With a Little Bit of Luck

O Mary, at thy window be
It is the wish that tries to do
Those smiles and glances let me see
That mak the miser's treasure poor
How blithely wad I bide the stour
A weary slave frae sun to sun
Could I the rich reward secure
The lovely Mary Morrison

Yestreen, when to the stented strain
The dance gat through the lighted haw
To thee my fancy took its wing
I sat that neither heard nor saw
Though this was fair, and that was braw
And yon the toast o' a' the town
I sighed and said among them all
"Ye are nae Mary Morrison."

O Mary, canst thou wreak his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly dae
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whose only fault is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt nae gie
At least be pity to me shown
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morrison