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460. Song—The Lovely Lass o' Inverness

 THE LOVELY lass o’ Inverness,
 Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For, e’en to morn she cries, alas!
 And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e.
“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 growin’ green to see; And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman’s e’e! “Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, A bluidy man I trow thou be; For mony a heart thou has made sair, That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee!”

Poem by Robert Burns
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