My Bonie Mary

      Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine,      And fill it in a silver tassie;      That I may drink before I go,      A service to my bonie lassie.      The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith;      Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry;      The ship rides by the Berwick-law,      And I maun leave my bonie Mary.       The trumpets sound, the banners fly,      The glittering spears are ranked ready:      The shouts o' war are heard afar,      The battle closes deep and bloody;      It's not the roar o' sea or shore,      Wad mak me langer wish to tarry!      Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar-      It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary!