Page:Cream of Tannahill's songs (2).pdf/21

21 Dorothy, dozen'd wi' living her lane, Pu'd at her rock, wi' the tear in her e'e; She thought on the braw merry days that were gane, And caft a woo coggie for company. Now aye she sings wools me, aye she sings wools me, Coggie thou heals me, coggie thou heals me, Aye my best friend, when there's ony thing ails mo, Ne'er shall we part, till the day that I die.

MY MARY.

My Mary is a bonnie lassie, Sweet as dewy morn, When fancy tunes her rural rood, Beside the upland thorn. She lives ahint yon sunny knowe, Where flowers in wild profusion grow, Where spreadiug birks and hazels throw Their shadows o'er the burn.

'Tis no the streamlet skirted wood, Wi' a' its leafy bow'rs, That gars me wait in solitude Among the wild sprung flow'rs; But aft I cast a langing e'e, Down frae the bank out-owre the lea, There haply I my lass may see, As through the broom she scours.

Yestreen I met my bonny lassie Coming frae the town, We raptur'd sunk in ither's arms And prest the breckans down; The paitrick sung his e'oning note, The rye-craik rispt his clam'rous throat, While there the heav'nly vow I got, That erl'd her my own.