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(38) Page 28 - My Mary
28 THE POCKET SONGSTER ;
I'll doat on ilka spot
Wbare I hae been wi' thee ;
I'll call to mind some fond love-tale,
By every burn an' tree.
'Tis liope that cheers the mind,
Though lovers absent be ;
An' when I think I see thee still,
I'll think I'm stjll vvi' thee. Miss Blamirc,
MY MARY.
" Wilt thou gang, my artless maid,
Owre this dewy grassy glade,
To yonder coolin* woodland shade,
Wilt thou gang, my Mary.
" Come an' scent the fragrant spring,
Hear the bonnie blackbirds sing
Sweet notes o' mirth an' joy, that ring
The woods an' glens, my Mar
'* Sweet the eve, the sky serene,
Mild an' gracefu' ilka scene, —
Consenting words are in thy een.
Then come awa, my Mary."
Now they wend the glade alang,
* Now they roam the woods amang,.
But Jamie heeds nor scene nor sang, —
He gazes t)n his Mary.

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