To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
neer made sic anither!
Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,
hearts o men adore thee.
The Deil he couldna scaith1 thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
Hed look into thy bonnie
And say, I canna wrang thee!
The Powers aboon will tent2 thee,
Misfortune shana steer3 thee:
Thourt like themsel sae
That ill theyll neer let near thee.
Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
again sae bonnie!
YE banks and braes and streams around
The castle o Montgomery,
Green be your woods,
and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!1
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the
For there I took the last fareweel
O my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloomd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorns blossom,
their fragrant shade
I claspd her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew oer me and my
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi monie a vow and lockd embrace
Our parting was fu tender;
And, pledging aft to meet
We tore oursels asunder;
But oh! fell Deaths untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
greens the sod, and caulds the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kissd sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that loed me dearly!
still within my bosoms core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,
Wi purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter
When wearied on my little wing;
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By autumn wild and winter
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu May its bloom renewd.
O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa,
And I mysel a drap o dew,
her bonnie breast to fa;
O there, beyond expression blest,
Id feast on beauty a the night;
Seald on her
silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fleyd awa by Phbus light.
O MY Luves like a red, red rose
Thats newly sprung in June:
O my Luves like the melodie
sweetly playd in tune!
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
the seas gang dry:
Till a the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi the sun;
I will luve thee still, my
While the sands o life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
it were ten thousand mile.
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