Song—Will Ye Go To The Indies,My Mary?

Tune—"Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts, Marion."

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

And leave auld Scotia's shore?

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

Across th' Atlantic roar?

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,

And the apple on the pine;

But a' the charms o' the Indies

Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,

I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;

And sae may the Heavens forget me,

When I forget my vow!

O plight me your faith, my Mary,

And plight me your lily-white hand;

O plight me your faith, my Mary,

Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,

In mutual affection to join;

And curst be the cause that shall part us!

The hour and the moment o' time!