Mary Morison - Caprice

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!'