Lament for Culloden
By Robert Burns, (1759-1796)

  • The lovely lass o’ Inverness,

  • Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
  • For e’en and morn she cries, Alas!
  • And aye the saut tear blins her ee:
  • Drumossie moor-Drumossie day-
  • A waefu’ day it was to me!
  • For there I lost my father dear,
  • My father dear, and brethren three.
  • Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
  • Their graves are growing green to see:
  • And by them lies the dearest lad
  • That ever blest a woman’s ee!
  • Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
  • A bluidy man I trow thou be;
  • For mony a heart thou hast made sair
  • That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee.
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