the lovely lass of inverness - ludwig van beethoven lyrics
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the lovely lass o’ inverness
nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
for e’en [to]1 morn she cries, (alas!)
and ay the saut tear blins 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 has made sair
that ne’er did wrang to thine or thee! »
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