  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 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 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 ourselves 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 kissed sae fondly! That dwelt 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. Robert Burns. |
|
