Go fetch to me a pint o’ wine,
An’ fill it in a silver tassie,
That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonnie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith,
Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are rankèd ready;
The shouts o’ war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and ******
But it ’s no the roar o’ sea or shore
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shout o’ war that ’s heard afar—
It ’s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary!