SongMary Morison

song—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 blythely was i bide the stour,

a weary slave frae sun to sun,

could i the rich reward secure,

the lovely mary morison.

yestreen, when to the trembling string

the dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',

to thee my fancy took its wing,

i sat, but her heard nor saw:

tho' this was fair, and that was braw,

and yooast of a' the town,

i sigh'd, and said among them a',

“ye are na mary morison.”

oh, mary, st thou wreck his peace,

wha for thy sake wad gladly die?

or st thou break that heart of his,

whase only faut is loving thee?

if love for

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