Lyrics by Robert Burns
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,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp’d 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 lock’d 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 kiss’d sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mould’ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
From By the Shores of Silver Lake
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