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 windingsheet 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!”