Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > Lyric gems of Scotland

145
Whate'er he said or might pretend,
Wha stole that heart o' thine, Mary;
True love, I'm sure, was ne'er his end,
Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary.
I spake sincere, ne'er flatter'd much,
Nor lichtly thought of thee, Mary;
Ambition, -wealth, nor naething such,
No, I lov'd only thee, Mary.
Tho' you've been false, yet while I live
Nae maid I'll woo like thee, Mary;
Let friends forget, as I forgive,
Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary
So then farewell! of this be sure,
Since you've been false to me, Mary,
For all the world I'd not endure
Half what I've done for thee, Mary !
MY OWN SWEET ROSE.
Words by John Bell.
Moderate
Music by Thomas Anderson.
am - bi - tion
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knows, To cher - ish in my ru - ral cot My own sweet Eose.
Her little fragile fairy form,
So slender, light, an' fair,
Whose yielding weakness softly claims
The gentle hand of care.
The love that sparkles in her e'e,
And in her bosom glows,
Still renders doubly dear to me
My own sweet Rose.
Should life her thousand ills impart,
An' grief an' cares combine,
To soothe her little throbbing heart
The grateful task be mine ;
Whatever clouds the skies deform —
Whatever tempest blows —
I'll shelter thee from every storm,
Mv own sweet Rose.