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    Lass of Inverness

    by Robert Burns
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    Tune--"_Lass of Inverness._"

    [As Burns passed slowly over the moor of Culloden, in one of his
    Highland tours, the lament of the Lass of Inverness, it is said, rose
    on his fancy: the first four lines are partly old.]

    I.

    The lovely lass o' Inverness,
    Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
    For e'en and morn, she cries, alas!
    And ay 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.

    II.

    Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,
    Their graves are growing 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 host made sair,
    That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.
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