ROBERT BURNS
And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'cd me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.
��516 O were my Love yon Lilac fair
OWERE my Love yon lilac fair, WV purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa', And I mysel a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa'; O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.
��5/7 A Red, Red Rose
OMY Luve 's like a red, red rose That 's newly sprung in June: O my Luve 's like the melodic That 's sweetly play'd in tune!
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