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Lord Gregory

O mirk, mirk is this midnight hour, And loud the tempest's roar: A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory ope thy door. An exile frae her father's ha', And a' for loving thee; At least some pity on me shae, If love it may na be. Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove, By bonie 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 ay 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 dart of Heaven that flashest by, O wilt thou give me rest! Ye mustering thunders from above Your willing victim see! But spare, and pardon my fause Love, His wrangs to Heaven and me!


Laura Fraser

About this work

This is a song by Robert Burns. It was written in 1793 and is read here by Laura Fraser.

Themes for this song

anguish class love

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