GO, fetch to me a pint o wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go,
A service to my bonie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o Leith;
Fu loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry;
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonie Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready:
The shouts o war are heard afar,
The battle closes deep and bloody;
Its not the roar o sea or shore,
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry!
Nor shouts o war thats heard afar
Its leaving thee, my bonie Mary!
