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6 -MO BHEANNACHD ORT, A MHAIRl-MY BLESSJNGS ON THEE, MARY
KEY E7. — Moderato.
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|.n 11 .,1 ^M •"
( Mo I bheannachd ort, a
Chor. My blessings on tliee, Mary,
Ir :d .S| 11, .,1| :d .,n Ir :d.
I Mhkiri, A I chailin cliaomh nam | blh,th - shuil.
My bounie blue - eyed Ma - ry:
(.d is ., s :1 ., 1 ]r' :1 .,d' 11 ., s :d ., r in .r :r.
i An I sir tliu tuille Igraidh orm, 'S mo 1 cliridh' gii sgaineadh | cheana leis?
The love I bear my fair one Is all my lieart can carry, Q.
C 'arson, a bharda 's snain duibb?
Ciod air 'tha chlar a' bruadar ?
'S a liuthad mais' 'us buaidh 'tha
Gun ghuth err', fuaight' ri m' leannan-sa.
I^Iar ghrian-ghath air uchd fairge.
Mar eal' air broilleach balbh-shruth.
Mar lilidh bheag nan tolman
Tha gilead dealbh na cailin ud.
Ged tha 'fait buidhe 'seòladh
M' a slinnein sneachd, mar òr-neul
Air gnùis grian-fheasgair òg-mhios,
Gur fada spòrs o'n ainuir ghrinn.
'S ged tha na milte 'g aoradh dhi,
Cha toir gin uam ihein i ;—
Eidh ban- aig aingle 'n naomhachd,
Ach bui Jhnidh 'n ceutachd Mali orr
Why doth each minstrel slumber ?
What can each harp encumber ?
When of the sweetest numbers
Sae worthy is my Mary, O !
Jjike sunbeam on the ocean,
Like swan on Shira's bosom,
Like April's brightest blossom,
Sae bright is sure my Mary, !
Wi' wavin' locks sae gowan
Her snowy neck surroundin',
There's naething vain or proud in
The heart o' smiling Mary, O !
Wi' thousands to adore her
She loves me only surer ; —
An angel may be purer,
But not man- sweet than Mary, i
C'iclic words and translation by EvAN MAC CoLL, the Lochflne Bard
The air is usually called " Siijhean donn an t-svgraidk."

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