My Bonie Mary

Go, fetch to me a pinto’ wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go,
A service to my bonie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith;
Fu’loud the wind blaws fraethe Ferry;
The ship rides bythe Berwick-law,
And I maunleave my bonie Mary.

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready:
The shouts o’ war are heard afar,
The battle closes deep and bloody;
It’s not the roar o’ sea orshore,
Wadmakme langer wish to tarry!
Nor shouts o’war that’s heard afar-
It’s leaving thee, my bonieMary!