Fordham, Mary Weston
Will you leave the hills of Scotland?
Your childhood's happy home,
To brave the dangers of the deep,
In foreign lands to roam--
Say, Mary, will you, for my sake
Leave yonder joyous cot--
Your youthful friends and scenes so dear,
To share a soldier's lot?
The battle's din, my Mary,
Has never met thine ear,
The woodlands' songsters melody
Is all that thou dost hear.
The vivid flash of musketry--
The cannon's thundering roar
Must meet thine eye, burst on thine ear
Sounds never heard before.
And now, fond one, I've told you all,
And I can say no more--
"Will you go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave old Scotia's shore?"