Mary M'Kinnon's Lamen

    Tune—" Jockie's far awa."

Ye Dames severe, no longer scorn
The sufferings which I bear ;
To be at once for ever torn
From all I held so dear !
My heaving bosom burns—I sigh —
No comforter I see ;
Within a dreary Jail I lye,
And none to pity me.
  And none to pity me, not one,
    There's none to pity me ;
'Mongst all this numerous multitude,
  There's none to pity me.

Mary M'Kinnon is my name,
To misery I was born,
In gauds of Iron I did lye,
Distressed and foriorn ;
But now the day appointed's come,
When thousands do me see,
'Mongst all this numerous multitude,
There's none to pity me.

'Tis true I smote the gentle Youth ;
And took his life away—
Which all the riches I possess
Can never once repay ;
But then it was in passion keen—
A dismal hour for me ;
For I must end this earthly scene
Upon the fatal tree.

I once was pure and innocent,
As dew on summer morn ;
My life from day to day was spent
In joy without the thorn,
Till wicked man envied my lot—
My lot that was so free ;
He stole my heart in evil hour,
And left the wretch you see.

Come listen then, ye Damsels fair !
Who love the city gay,
I pray you of its wiles beware,
Since it will soon betray ;
For pleasure was my chief delight—
I lov'd the midnight glee :
O shun its cursed mad'ning joys—
It has deluded me !

And you, ye Lads ! as forth ye roam,
In quest of mirth and fun,
Forget not, in your idle brawls,
By this I was undone.
Provoke not the unfortunate—
They yet may virtuous be ;
Perhaps some sister of a friend
Should pity draw from thee.

Now my hour is come at last,
I've left the dreary cell,
M'Kinnon in her youthful bloom,
Now bids this world farewell !
Let every one a warning take,
My fatal end do see,
For now I bid the wo ld adieu,
Since none can pity ME !