Chorus.—Hey, my winsome Mary,—
Mary fondly free !
Hey, my winsome Mary,
; Mary, mine to be !
Winsome, handsome Mary,
Who so fair as she ?
My own Highland lassie.
Dear as life to me !w^
130 MacColl's Poems.
Long ere in my bosom
Lodged Love's arrow keen,
Often with young Mary
In Gleiism'^oil I've beeii ;
Happy hours ! succeeded
By affection true,
Till there seem'd 'neath heaven
No such loving two !
Cnoiius.— Hey, my &o.
Often I and Mary
Desert haunts have sought,
Innocent of any
Evil deed or thought,
—
Cupid, sly enchanter.
Tempting us to stray
Where the leafy greenwood
Keeps the sun at bay.
Chorus.— Hey, my &c.
What although all Albin
And its wealth were mine,
How, without thee, da'^^Ung,
Could I fail to pine '/
As my bride to kiss tboo
I would prize far more
Than the all of treasure 4-:->
Europe has in store.
Chorus.—Hey, my &c.
tMacColl's Poems.
Fairer is tlio bosom
Of my loving one
Than the downy phimage
Of the floating swan ;
Hers the sHra waist graceful,
And the nock whose hue
Matches well the sea-gull's
Out on Gairloch blue.
Chorus — Hey, my &c.
What a wealth of tresses
Mary dear can show !
Crown of lustre rarer
Ne'er graced maiden brow.
'Tis but little dressing
Need those tresses rare,
Falhng fondly, proudly
O'er her shoulders fair.
Chorus.—Hey, my &o
Hers are teeth whose whiteness
Snow alone can peer ;
Hers the breath all fragrance,
Voice of loving cheer,
—
Cheeks of cherry ripeness,
Eyelids drooping down
'Neath a forehead never
Shadowed by a frown.
Chorus.—Hey, my &c.132
nMacColl's Poems.
Out on roj'al splendours !
Love best makes bis bed
'Mong the leaver and grasses
Of the sylvan shade,
Where the blissful breezes
Tell of bloom and balm,
And health-giving streamlets
Sing their ceaseless psalm.
Chorus. - Hey, my &c
Chobus.-
No mere music art-born
There our pleasures crowned
Music far more cheering
Nature for us found,
—
Jjarks in air, and thrushes
On each flow'ring thorn,
And the cuckoo hailing
Summer's gay return !
-Hey, my winsome Mary,
—
Mary fondly free !
Hey, my winsome Mary,
Mary, mine to be !
Winsome, handsome Mary,
Who so fair as sha ?
My own Highland lassie.
Dear as life to me !
