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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!"

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