by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)

O Mary, at thy window be!
Language: Scottish (Scots) 
Available translation(s): FRE
O Mary, at thy window be!
  It is the wish'd the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
  That makes the miser's treasure poor.
  How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
  Could I the rich reward secure -- 
The lovely Mary Morison!

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
  The dance gaed thro the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
  I sat, but neither heard or saw:
  Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
  I sigh'd, and said amang them a' -- 
"Ye are na Mary Morison!"

O, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
  Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
  Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
  At least be pity to me shown:
A thought ungentle canna be
  The thought o' Mary Morison.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Cambridge edition, Boston and New York, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1897, page 299.


Authorship

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Researcher for this text: Pierre Mathé [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 158