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Table of Contents

THE BIRDS OF ANGUS OGUE

Hither and thither,

And to and fro,

They thrid the Maze

Of Weal and Woe:

O winds that blow

For golden weather

Blow me the birds,

All white as snow

On the hillside heather—

Blow me the birds

That Angus know:

Blow me the birds,

Be it Weal or Woe!