O Mary, at thy window be! It is the wish'd, the trysted hour Those smiles and glances let me see That make the miser's treasure poor How blithely wad I bide the stoure A weary slave frae sun to sun Could I the rich reward secure -- The lovely Mary Morison Yestreen, when to trembling string The dance gaed thro' the lighted To thee my fancy took its wing I sat, but neither heard nor saw Tho' this was fair, and that was braw And yon the toast of a' the town I sigh'd and sang amang them a': -- 'Lovely lovely Mary Morison!'