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Robert Burns

Mary Morison

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 wad 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 neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
    And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
    'Ye arena Mary Morison.'

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
    Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
    Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wiltna gie,
    At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be
    The thought o' Mary Morison.

 
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About the poet
Robert Burns
 
By the same poet
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Lament for Culloden
Auld Lang Syne
Jean
My Bonnie Mary
John Anderson, my Jo
The Banks o' Doon
Ae Fond Kiss
Bonnie Lesley
Highland Mary
O were my Love yon Lilac fair
A Red, Red Rose
The Farewell
Hark! the Mavis
 
Related books
Robert Burns at amazon.com


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