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Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy;
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her and love forever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met, or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas, forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.



Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough!
Thou minds me o' the happy days

When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.








Aft hae I roved by bonie Doon,
To see the woodbine twine;
And ilka bird.sang o' its luve,
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree;

And my fause luver staw my rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.




O luve will venture in where it daur na weel be seen,
O luve will venture in where wisdom ance hath been;
But I will doun yon river rove, amang the wood sae green,
And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonie mou;
The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue;
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear,
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer;
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air;

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey,
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day,
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away;
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.


The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near,
And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear;
The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear;

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.







I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above
That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove;
And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.


O saw ye bonie Lesley

As she gaed o'er the Border?
She's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley;

Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Lesley;

The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonie face,

And say, "I canna wrang thee."
The Powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha'na steer thee;
Thou 'rt, like themsel, sae lovely

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,

Return to Caledonie!

That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.




Duncan Gray cam here to woo
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),
On blythe Yule Night when we were fou

(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).






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Ye banks and braes and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Summer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry!

For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As, underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder.

But O fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly!
And closed for ay the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust

That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has aften led,


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