Cream of Tannahill's Songs (3)/My Mary
For other versions of this work, see My Mary.
MY MARY.
My Mary is a bonnie lassie,
Sweet as dewy morn,
When fancy tunes her rural reed,
Beside the upland thorn.
She lives ahint yon sunny knowe,
Where flowers in wild profusion grow,
Where spreading birks and hazels throw
Their shadows o'er the burn.
Sweet as dewy morn,
When fancy tunes her rural reed,
Beside the upland thorn.
She lives ahint yon sunny knowe,
Where flowers in wild profusion grow,
Where spreading birks and hazels throw
Their shadows o'er the burn.
'Tis no the streamlet skirted wood,
Wi' a' its leafy bow'rs,
That gars me wait in solitude
Among the wild sprung flow'rs;
But aft I cast a langing e'e,
Down frae the bank out-owre the lea,
There haply I my lass may see,
As through the broom she scours.
Wi' a' its leafy bow'rs,
That gars me wait in solitude
Among the wild sprung flow'rs;
But aft I cast a langing e'e,
Down frae the bank out-owre the lea,
There haply I my lass may see,
As through the broom she scours.
Yestreen I met my bonny lassie
Coming frae the town,
We raptur'd sunk in ither's arms
And prest the breckans down;
The paitrick sung his e'ening note,
The rye-craik rispt his clam'rous throat,
While there the heav'nly vow I got,
That erl'd her my own.
Coming frae the town,
We raptur'd sunk in ither's arms
And prest the breckans down;
The paitrick sung his e'ening note,
The rye-craik rispt his clam'rous throat,
While there the heav'nly vow I got,
That erl'd her my own.