Go bring to me a pint o wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonie 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 bony Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are rankèd ready,
The sounds o war are heard afar,
The battle closes deep and bloody.
Tis not the roar o sea or shore,
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor sounds o war that's heard afar -
It's leaving thee, my bony Mary!