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y bonie ary

go, fetch to a pt o&039; e,

and fill it a silver tassie;

that i ay drk before i go,

a service to y bonie ssie

the boat rocks at the pier o&039; leith;

fu&039; loud the d bws frae the ferry;

the ship rides by the berwick-w,

and i aun leave y bonie ary

the trupets und, the banners fly,

the glitterg spears are ranked ready:

the shouts o&039; war are heard afar,

the battle closes deep and bloody;

it&039;s not the roar o&039; sea or shore,

wad ak nr wish to tarry!

nor shouts o&039; war that&039;s heard afar—

it&039;s leavg thee, y bonie ary!