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　　Song—Will Ye Go To The Indies, My Mary?

　　Tune—“Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts, Marion.”

　　Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

　　And leave auld Scotia's shore?

　　Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

　　Across th' Atlantic roar?

　　O sweet grows the lime and the orange,

　　And the apple on the pine;

　　But a' the charms o' the Indies

　　Can never equal thine.

　　I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,

　　I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;

　　And sae may the Heavens forget me,

　　When I forget my vow!

　　O plight me your faith, my Mary,

　　And plight me your lily-white hand;

　　O plight me your faith, my Mary,

　　Before I leave Scotia's strand.

　　We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,

　　In mutual affection to join;

　　And curst be the cause that shall part us!

　　The hour and the moment o' time! Poems and Songs of Robert Burns