ROBERT BURNS
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luvc am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o 5 life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve, And fare thee weel a while'
And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
��5-rc? Lament -for Culloden
^HE lovely lass o' Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e'en and morn she cries, 'Alas' '
And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e 'Drumossic moor, Drumossic day,
A wacfu' 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 growing green to sec ;
And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman's e'e'
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
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