Rigs o' barley (1821)/Mary's dream

by John Lowe

For other versions of this work, see Mary's Dream (Lowe).

MARYS DREAM.

The lovely moon had climb'd the hill
Where eagles big aboon the Dee,
And like looks of a lovely dame,
Brought joy to every body's ee;
A' but sweet Mary, deep in sleep,
Her thoughts on Sandie far at sea;
A voice drap saftly on her ear,
'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!'

She lifted up her waukening een,
To see from whence the voice might be,
and there she saw her Sandie stand,
Pale, bending on her his hollow ee!
O Mary, dear, lament nae mair,
I'm in death thraws below the sea;
Thy weeping makes me sad in bliss,
Sae, Mary weep nae mair for me!

'The wind slept when we left the bay,
But soon it waked and raised the main,
And God he bore us down the deep,
Who strave with him but strave in vain!
He stretch'd his arm, and took me up,
Tho' laith I was to gang but thee:
I look frae heaven aboon the storm,
Sae, Mary, weep nae mair tor me!

'Take off thae bride sheets frae thy bed,
Which thou hast faulded down for me;
Unrobe thee of thy earthly stole ———
I'll meet wi' thee in heaven hie.'
Three times the grey cock flapt his wing,
To mark the morning lift her ee,
And thrice the passing spirit said,
Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!

FINIS.