  Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, An' fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink before I go A service to my bonnie lassie: The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are rankÉd ready; The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's not the roar o' sea or shore Wad make me langer wish to tarry; Nor shout o' war that's heard afar— It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary. R. Burns |
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