HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There Simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom! Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace We tore oursels asunder; But oh! 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 kiss'd sae fondly! And closed for aye the sparkling glance, That dwelt on me sae kindly! muddy may S. f. unfold birch cold loved And mould'ring now in silent dust, TO MARY IN HEAVEN Thou lingering star, with lessening ray, My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget? Can I forget the hallow'd grove, To live one day of parting love? Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? The group that follow are addressed either to unknown divinities or to girls who inspired only a passing devotion. In the case of Bonnie Lesley, there was no question of a love-affair: the song is merely a compliment to a young lady he met and admired. Auld Rob Morris is probably purely dramatic. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, birch THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue; Her lips like roses wat wi' dew, went, road last night got, eyes wet |