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[by Tannahill]
Through Cruikston Castle's lonely wa's
The wintry wind howls wild and dreary;
Though mirk the cheerless e'ening fa's,
Yet I ha'e vow'd to meet my Mary.
Yes, Mary, though the winds should rave
Wi' jealous spite to keep me frae thee,
The darkest stormy night I'd brave,
For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.
Loud o'er Cardonald's rocky steep
Rude Cartha pours in boundless measure;
But I will ford the whirling deep
That roars between me and my treasure.
Yes, Mary, though the torrent rave,
Wi' jealous spite, to keep me frae thee;
Its deepest flood I'd bauldly brave,
For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.
The watch-dog's howling loads the blast,
And makes the nightly wand'rer eerie;
But when the lonesome way is past,
I'll to this bosom clasp my Mary.
Yes, Mary, though stern winter rave
Wi' a' his storms to keep me frae thee,
The wildest, dreary night I'd brave,
For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee. |
