tho' this was fair, and that was braw,

and yon the toast of a' the town,

i sigh'd, and said among them a',

“ye are na mary morison.”

oh, mary, canst thou wreck his peace,

wha for thy sake wad dly 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.