The Lovely Lass of Inverness

The lovely lass o' Inverness,Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;For e'en and morn she cries, alas!And aye the saut tear blins her ee: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 growing green to see;And by them lies the dearest ladThat ever blest a woman's ee!Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,A bluidy man I trow thou be;For monie a heart thou hast made sair,That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.