The lovely lass o’Inverness,
Naejoy nor pleasure can she see;
For, e’ento morn she cries, alas!
And aye the sauttear blin’s her e’e.

“Drumossie moor, Drumossie day-
A waefu’ day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.

“Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growin’ green to see;
And bythem lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman’s e’e!

“Now waeto thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidyman I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou has made sair,
That ne’er did wrangto thine orthee!”