Oh , dry the saut tear frae thine e'e, Mary!
Oh, dry the saut tear frae thine e'e!
And look not sae sadly on me, Mary,
Oh, look not sae sadly on me!
There's Ane that will aye be thy stay, Mary,
Thy wounds He will tenderly bind;
They'll all pass away like the wind, Mary,
They'll all pass away like the wind!

It's no' me that's deein ava, Mary,
Its no' me that's deein ava:
It's but the worn clay drappin aff, Mary,
It's but the auld house gaun to fa';
It's but the caged bird gettin free, Mary,
That soon will soar singin awa';
It's no' me that's deein' ava, Mary,
It's no' me that's deein ava.

This tenement's gaen to decay, Mary,
I feel as if 'twerena the same;
I'm sick o' this cauld house o' clay, Mary,
I weary to win awa' hame.
Oh! sweet shall oor meetin' be there, Mary,
Nae sigh o'er the sorrowfu' past;
The hame where the hert's never sair, Mary,
And wrangs are a' richted at last.

And there we'll be aye young again, Mary,
The fields will forever be green;
And nae lang regrets o' oor ain, Mary,
And death never enter the scene.
I've them wi' me ye canna see, Mary,
I feel the firm grip o' a haun';
Tho' a' here is darkness to thee, Mary,
They're leadin me into the dawn.

The dear anes that left us lang syne, Mary —
Ah, left us oor wearifu' lane,
But never were oot o' oor min', Mary —
Are a' comin' roun' me again.
Ah! there's oor ain Willie and Jean, Mary!
And wi' them a bricht-shinin' train,
Wha say through their pityin' e'en, Mary,
Ye winna be left a' your lane.

Then dry the saut tear frae thine e'e, Mary,
Then dry the saut tear frae thine e'e!
And look not sae sadly on me, Mary,
Oh! look not sae sadly on me.
The grief that is turnin' thee grey, Mary,
Nae doubt for some good is design'd,
'Twill all, like the wind, pass away, Mary,
'Twill all pass away like the wind.