Print This Page#01314 Print This Page
On the bonny hills of Scotland where the bluebells they do grow,
There lived a farmer's daughter down by the lowlands low;
She watched her flocks the whole day long down by the banks of Clyde,
And though her cot was poor and low, she was called the village pride.
A hunter down from Palacetown a-hunting came this way,
He hunted through the lowlands where Mary's cottage lay;
And many a glance he cast upon down by the farm so fair,
And wondered how so sweet a flower could bloom and flourish there.
Young Harry came to Mary's house his heart was filled with woe,
Saying, "Mary, my love, Mary, far from you I must go;
My regiment has been called upon and I received command,
To go and leave the lowland glen for India's burning sand.
"Oh Mary, dearest Mary, this grieves me to the heart,
I wish you were my wedded wife this night before we part,
So you could come along with me and be my heart's desire,
To go and be my wedded wife dressed up in man's attire."
When we arrived in Palacetown the people wondered there,
To see so sweet a creature so beautiful and fair;
The people all admired her as she stood on the parade,
And wondered how a soldier's coat could win so fair a maid.
Now it's far across the ocean young Harry he must go,
He little knew the danger that he must undergo;
Young Harry he fought manfully while Mary did her best,
And as she stopped to dress his wounds a bullet pierced her breast
"I fear you're deadly wounded love," young Harry he did say,
I see your life blood flowing, your lips are like the clay;
The first time ever I saw you it was you that I adored,
Though they lift their eyes no more to rise on India's burning shore."
Collected from Theresa White (b.ca.1934) of Port au Port, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA). Leach also collected another variant as Bonnie Hills Of Scotland from John Kehoe (b.1864) of Flatrock, NL.
