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Song—Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary?

Tune—"Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts, Marion."

     Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
     And leave auld Scotia's shore?
     Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
     Across th' Atlantic roar?

     O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
     And the apple on the pine;
     But a' the charms o' the Indies
     Can never equal thine.

     I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
     I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
     And sae may the Heavens forget me,
     When I forget my vow!

     O plight me your faith, my Mary,
     And plight me your lily-white hand;
     O plight me your faith, my Mary,
     Before I leave Scotia's strand.

     We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
     In mutual affection to join;
     And curst be the cause that shall part us!
     The hour and the moment o' time!

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