S?TCH SONOS: Gred be your woods, end fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie; There simmer first unfauMs her robes, And there they hngest tarry; For there I took the last farewell Of my dear Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom; As underneath her fragrant shade I claspM her to my bosom: The go/den hours on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life, Was my mvoet H?ldand Mary. ' Wi' mony a vow and 1ock'd embrace, Our parting was fu' tender;. And pledging aft to meet again, We tore o,reelves assunder. But O! fell death's. untimely frost, That nipt my flower see early;. Now green's the sod, and eauld's tim slay That wraps my. Highland Mary. 0 pale, pale now those rosy lips, I oft has kisn'd see fondly; And elos'd for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me 9ae kindly*. And mouldsring now in silent dust That heart that io'ed me dearly| But still within my b(mom's core 8hell live my Highland Mary. BuT am you sure the news is tru? And are you sure he's well? 75
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