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‹‹‹ prev (18) Page 12Page 12Thou art gane awa frae me, Mary

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thee. Ma- rj;Thou'rt still the mis-tress
of my heart. Think what you will of
me, Ma - ry.
Whate'er he said, or might pretend,
That staw that heart o' thine, Mary ;
True love, I'm sure, was ne'er his end,
Or nae sic love as mine, Mary.
I spake sincere, nor llatter'd much,
Nae selfish thoughts in me, Mary ;
Ambition, wealth, nor naething such:
No I I lov'd onl}^ thee, Mary.
Tho' you've been false, yet, while I live,
I'll lo'e nae maid but tht^e, Mary ;
Let friends forget, as I forgive
Thy wrangs to them and me, Mary.
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