My Mary |
Robert Tannahill
My Mary is a bonny lassie, Sweet as dewy morn, When Fancy tunes her rural reed. Beside the upland thorn: She lives ahint yon sunny knowe, Where flow'rs in wild profusion grow, Where spreading birks and hazels throw Their shadows o'er the burn. | 2. '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. |
3. Yestreen I met my bonnie lassie Coming frae the town, We raptur'd sunk in ither's arms And prest the breckans down; The pairtrick sung his e'ening note, The rye-craik rispt his clam'rous throat,* While there the heav'nly vow I got That arl't her my own. |