Robert Burns, 1794
The lovely lass o' Inverness,|
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For, e'en to morn she cries, alas!
And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e.
2. "Drumossie moor, Drumossie day
3. "Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,|
Their graves are growin' green to see;
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's e'e!
4. "Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
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