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!”