Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/325
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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
259
TO MARY.
TUNE—'EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.'
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,And leave auld Scotia's shore?Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,Across the Atlantic's roar?
O sweet grows the lime and the orange,And the apple on the pine;But a' the charms o' the IndiesCan never equal thine.
I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;And sae may the Heavens forget me,When I forget my vow!
O plight me your faith, my Mary,And plight me your lily-white hand;O plight me your faith, my Mary,Before I leave Scotia's strand.
We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,In mutual affection to join,And curst be the cause that shall part us!The hour, and the moment o' time!
MARY MORISON.
TUNE—'BIDE YE YET.'
O Mary, at thy window be,It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!Those smiles and glances let me see,That make the miser's treasure poor;How blithely wad I bide the stoure,A weary slave frae sun to sun;Could I the rich reward secure,The lovely Mary Morison.
Yestreen, when to the trembling stringThe dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',To thee my fancy took its wing,I sat, but neither heard or saw:Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,And yon the toast of a' the town,I sigh'd, and said amang them a','Ye are na Mary Morison.'
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?Or canst thou break that heart of his,Whase only faut is loving thee?If love for love thou wilt na gie,At least be pity to me shown!A thought ungentle canna beThe thought o' Mary Morison.
A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON.
TUNE—'FINLAYSTON HOUSE.'
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,And pierc'd my darling's heart;And with him all the joys are fledLife can to me impart!By cruel hands the sapling drops,In dust dishonour'd laid:So fell the pride of all my hopes,My age's future shade.
The mother-linnet in the brakeBewails her ravish'd young;So I, for my lost darling's sake,Lament the live-day long.Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,Now, fond, I bare my breast,O, do thou kindly lay me lowWith him I love, at rest!