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the lovely lass o' inverness
the lovely lass o' inverness,
nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
for, e'en to morn she cries, alas!
and aye the saut tear blin's her e'e.
“drumossie moor, drumossie day—
a waefu' day it was to me!
for there i lost my father dear,
my father dear, and brethren three.
“their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
their graves are growin' green to see;
and by them lies the dearest lad
that ever blest a woman's e'e!
“now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
a bluidy man i trow thou be;
for mony a heart thou has made sair,
that ne'er did wrang to thine or thee!”