Beneath the Willow Tree/Despairing Mary

by Robert Tannahill

For other versions of this work, see Despairing Mary.

Despairing Mary.

Mary, why thus waste thy youth time in sorrow?
See as around you the flowers sweetly blow,
Blythe sets the sun o'er the wild cliffs o' Jura,
Blythe sings the mavis in ilka green shaw;
How can this heart ever mair think of pleasure,
Simmer may smile, but delight I have nane;
Cauld in the grave lies my heart I only treasure,
Nature seems dead, since my Jamie is gane.

This kerchief he gave me, a true lover's token,
Dear, dear to me was the gift for his sake,
I wear't near my heart, but this poor heart is broken,
Hope died wi' Jamie, and left it to break.
Sighing for him, I lie down in the e'ening,
Sighing for him, I awake in the morn,
Spent were my days, a' in secret repining,
Peace to this besom can never return.

Oft have we wandered in sweetest retirement,
Telling our loves 'neath the moon's silent beam;
Sweet were our meetings of tender endearments,
But fled are these joys like a fleet passing dream;
Cruel remembrance! ah, why wilt thou wreck me,
Brooding o'er joys that for ever are flown,
Cruel remembrance! in pity forsake me,
Flee to some bosom where grief is unknown.