Lord Gregory

 

 

Lord Gregory

O mirk, mirk is the midnight hour.
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wand’rer seeks thy tow’r,
Lord Gregory, ope thy door
An exile frae her father’s ha’,
And a’ for loving thee,
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory mind’st thou not the grove
By bonnie Irwine side,
Where first I own’d that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied.
How aften didst thou pledge and vow
Thou wad for aye be mine!
And my fond heart itsel’ sae true,
It ne’er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast:
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest by,
O, wilt thou bring me rest!
Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see;
But spare and pardon my fause Love
His wrangs to Heaven and me.

By: Robert Burns