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Scotland’s Nostradamus and the Queen of the Fairies
True Thomas sat on Huntley bank,
And he beheld a lady gay;
A lady that was brisk and bold,
Come riding o’er the ferny brae.
Her skirt was of the grass green silk,
Her mantle of the velvet fine;
At every lock of her horse’s mane,
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.
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