Mary Morrison

1.
O Mary, at thy window be!
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor.
How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure -
The lovely Mary Morison!
2.
Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd and said amang them a':-
' Ye are na Mary Morison!'
3.
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown:
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

Translation Index	Mary Morrison TUNE: Duncan Davison
Burns Original		Standard English Translation
1. O Mary, at thy window be! It is the wish'd, the trysted hour. Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor. How blythely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure - The lovely Mary Morison! 2. Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat but neither heard nor saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd and said amang them a':- ' Ye are na Mary Morison!' 3. O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? Or canst thou break that heart of his Whase only faut is loving thee? If love for love thou wilt na gie, At least be pity to me shown: A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison.		O Mary, at your window be! It is the wished, the trysted hour. Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor. How blythely would I bear the stuggle, A weary slave from sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure - The lovely Mary Morison Last night, when to the trembling string (violin?) The dance went through the lighted hall, To you my fancy took its wing, I sat but neither heard nor saw: Though this (girl) was fair, and that (girl) was lovely, And yonder (girl) the toast of all the town, I sighed and said among them all:- ' You are not Mary Morison! O Mary, can you wreck his peace Who for thy sake would gladly die? Or can you break that heart of his Whose only fault is loving you? If love for love you will not give, At least be pity to me shown: A thought ungentle cannot be The thought of Mary Morison.
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