Highland Mary

Will you leave the hills of Scotland? Your childhood’s happy home, To brave the dangers of the deep, In foreign lands to roam⁠— Say, Mary, will you, for my sake Leave yonder joyous cot⁠— Your youthful friends and scenes so dear, To share a soldier’s lot?

The battle’s din, my Mary, Has never met thine ear, The woodlands’ songsters melody Is all that thou dost hear. The vivid flash of musketry⁠— The cannon’s thundering roar Must meet thine eye, burst on thine ear Sounds never heard before.

And now, fond one, I’ve told you all. And I can say no more⁠— “Will you go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave old Scotia’s shore?”