Inverness

  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!”