Allan Cunningham

Mary Halliday

BONNIE Mary Halliday,
  Turn again, I call you;
If you leave your father’s ha’
  Sorrow will befall you;
The cushat, hark, a tale of woe	
  Is to its true love telling,
And Annan stream in drowning wrath
  Is through the greenwood swelling.

Gentle Mary Halliday,
  Born to be a lady,
Upon the Annan’s woody side
  Thy saddled steed stands ready;
For thy haughty kinsman’s threats
  Will thy true faith falter?
The bridal banquet ’s ready made,
  The priest stands by the altar.

Bonnie Mary Halliday,
  Turn again, I tell you;
For wit and grace and loveliness,
  What maiden can excel you?
Though Annan has its beauteous dames,
  And Corrie mony a fair one,
We canna spare thee frae our sight,
  Thou lovely and thou rare one.

Gentle Mary Halliday,
  When the cittern ’s sounding
We ’ll miss the music of thy foot
  Amang the blythe lads bounding,—
The summer sun will freeze our blood,
  The winter moon will warm us,
Ere the like o’ thee will come again
  To cheer us and to charm us.