Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary?

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auldScotia’s shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th’ Atlantic roar?

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
Buta’the charms o’ the Indies
Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn bythe Heavens to be true;
And saemay the Heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow!

O plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily-white hand;
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia’s strand.

We haeplighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join;
And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour and the moment o’time!