Page:Lament of Flora M'Donald.pdf/7

 7 THE LORD'S MARIE. The Lord's Marie has kepp'd her locks Up wi' a gowden kanc, An' she has put on her net-silk hose, An' awa to the trusle has gane. O saft, sali, Tell the dew on her locks, An' satt, ali, on opster brow; Ae sweet drap fell on her strawberry lips An' I kiss'd it aff I trow: " O whar gat ye that Ical maiden, “ Sac jumpy lac' and sna'? “ O whar gat ye that young damsel, “ Wha dings our lasses a'! " O whar gat ve that bonnie, bonnie lase, " Wi' learen in her c'e? " O here's ae drap o' the damask wine, " Sweet maiden, will ye pree?" Fu' white, white was her bonnie neck, Twist wil the satin twine, But ruddie, ruddie grew her hawse, While she sirp'o the bluid-red wine. " Come here's thy health young stranger fair, " Wha wears the gowden kame-- This night will meny drink thy heahb, " And kenna wha to name." Play me np Sweet Marie," I cry'd, And loud the Piper blew - But the Fiddler play'd ay struntom struna, Au' down bus bow he threw,