Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listen the lambkins that bleat owre the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw ;
But to me its delightleas-my Nannnie's awa'
The snaw-drap and primrose our woodland adorn,
And violets bath in the west o' the morn ;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw!
They mind me o' Nannie-and Nannie's awa'
Thou laverock, that springs frae the dews of the laws,
The shepherd to warn of the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis, that hails the night fa' ;
Give over for pity-my Nannin's awa'.
Come, autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Natures decay;
The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw,
Alane can delight me-now Nannie's awa'.
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And his Highland Mary.
In green Caledonia there ne'er were twa lovers,
Sae enraptured and happy in each ithers arms,
As Burns the sweet bard, and his dear Highland Mary,
And fondly and sweetly he sang o'er her charms,
And lang will his sang sae enchanting and bonnie
Be heard wi' delight on his ain native plains,
And lang will the name o' his dear Highland Mary,
Be sacred to love in his heart-melting strains.
Oh, 'twas a May-day, and the flowers o' the summar,
Were blooming in wildness, a' lovely and fair ;
That our twa lovers met in a prove o' green bowers,
Which grew on the banks o' the clear winding Ayr ;
And oh, to them baith, 'twas a meeting fu' tender,
As it was the last for a while they could hae,
Sae, in love's purest raptures they feasted together,
Till the red setting sun show'd the close of the day.
Oh, Mary, dear Mary, exclaimed her fond lover,
Ye carry my heart, to the Highland with thee ;
Every burnie, every grove, and green bower,
May talk of the love of my lassie and me ;
My life's sweatest treasure, my ain charming Mary,
To the I'll be ever devoted and true ;
For the heart that is beating at hard in this bosom,
Is a heart that can never love ony but you.
O dinna bide lang in the Highlands my Mary,
O dinna bide lang in the Highland's, frae me ;
For I love thee sincerely, I love thee o'er dearly,
For to be happy, sae far my dear Mary, frae thee,
I winna bide lang, my dear lad, in the Highlands,
I canna bide lang for ye winna be there.
Altho' I hae friends I like weel in the Highlands,
The ane I love best's On the banks of the Ayr.
Then he kissed her red lips, they were sweeter than roses,
And he strained her lily white breast to his heart,
And his tears fell like dew-drops at e'en on her bosom,
And she said my fond lover, alas, we maun part,
Then farewell, he said, and flew frae his Mary,
Oh, farewell, said Mary she could say nae mair,
Oh little they kenn'd they had parted for ever,
When they parted that night on the banks of the Ayr.
Yet the green summer saw but a few sunny mornings,
Till she in the bloom of her beauty and pride,
Was laid in her grave like a bonnie young flower ;
In Greenock Kirk-yard, on the banks of the Clyde,
And Burns, the sweet bard, of his ain Caledonia,
Lamented his Mary in many a sad strain,
And sair did he weep for his dear Highland Mary,
And ne'er did his heart love sae deeply again.
Then bring me the lillies, and bring me the roses,
And bring me the daisies that grow in the vale,
And bring me the dew of the mild simmers ev'ning,
And bring me the breath o the sweet scented gale,
And bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom,
And bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e,
And I'll poor them a' down on thy grave, Highland Mary
For the sake o' thy Burns ha' dearly lo'ed thee.
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Probable period of publication:
1850-1870 shelfmark: APS.3.80.4
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