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Poem by Robert Burns

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THE lovely lass o Inverness,
  Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For een and morn she cries, alas!
  And aye the saut tear blins her ee:
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 womans ee!
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
  A bluidy man I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou hast made sair,
  That neer did wrang to thine or thee.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. The Chevaliers Lament
  2. Last May a Braw Wooer
  3. When First I Saw
  4. Frae the Friends and Land I Love
  5. Young Jamie, Pride Of A the Plain

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