My Bonny Mary
Go fetch to me a pint o’ wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonny lassie;
The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith,
Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry;
The ship rides by the Berwick law,
And I maun leave my bonny Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready;
The shouts o’ war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it’s not the roar o’ sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o’ war that’s heard afar—
It’s leaving thee, my bonny Mary.