THE lovely lass o' Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e'en and 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 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 monie a heart thou hast made sair, That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SIBYLLA'S DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE AFRICAN CHIEF by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SWITZERLAND by JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES VENUS AND ADONIS by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HYMN OF PAN by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY LET HER SLEEP! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS LET ME FORGET by OMA CARLYLE ANDERSON |