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For works with similar titles, see Mary.

113—MARY

Kind, kind and gentle is she, Kind is my Mary,
The tender blossom on the tree, Cannot compare wi' Mary,
Her brow is fair as winter's snow, Her cheek's wi' modest roses blow,
And dove-like glances sweetly flow, Frae oot the e'en o' Mary,
Sae kind, kind and gentle is she, Kind is my Mary,
The tender blossom on the tree, Cannot compare wi' Mary.

See yon proud and haughty lass, Her head wi' pride and folly toss'd
Ne'er look on her, but let her pass, Be sure it is not Mary,
Sae kind, kind and gentle is she, Kind is my Mary,
The tender blossom on the tree, Cannot compare wi' Mary.

But see ye one o' modest air, Be deck'd wi' beauty saft and rare,
That mak's your heart feel sweetly sair, O weel ye ken my Mary
Sae kind, kind and gentle is she, Kind is my Mary,
The tender blossom on the tree, Cannot compare wi' Mary.