The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland

470
But, dubious of my ain desert,
My sentiments I smother
With secret sighs I vex my heart,
For fear she love another.
Thus sung blate Edie by a burn
;
; ! ;
Flis Chirsty did o'erhear him :
She doughtna let her lover mourn,
But, ere he wist, drew near him.
She spak her favour with a look.
Which left nae room to doubt her
He wisely this white minute took.
And flung his arms about her.
My Chirsty ! Witness, bonnie stream,
Sic joys frae tears arising !
I wish this may na be a dream
Oh, love the maist surprising !
Time was too precious now for tauk ;
This point o' a' his wishes
He wadna with set speeches baulk,
But wared it a' on kisses.
MARY.
BURNS.
Tune— The Yoxve-buchis.
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia's shore ?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across the Atlantic's roar ?
Oh, sweet grow the lime and the orange^
And the apple on the pine
But a the charms o' the Indies
Can never equial thine.
;