Mary MorisonText: Robert Burns (1780??)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 the trembling string The dance gaed thro, the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took..