The Lovely Lass Of Inverness

The lovely lass o’ Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e’en and morn she cries, ‘alas!’ And aye the saut tear blins her ee: ‘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 growing green to see; And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman’s ee! Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, A bluidy man I trow thou be; For mony a heart thou hast made sair, That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee.’