the lovely lass o' inverness

    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.

    “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 by them lies the dearest lad

    that ever blest a woman's e'e!

    “now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,

    a bluidy man i trow thou be;

    for mony a heart thou has made sair,

    that ne'er did wrang to thine or thee!”