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25 Scottish Songs, Op. 108: No. 8, The Lovely Lass of Inverness
Antonio Pappano
,
Ian Bostridge
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The lovely lass o' Inverness
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see
For e'en and morn she cries "Alas!"
And a' the sorry blinds her e'en
Dramasie Muir, Dramasie Day
A waeful day it was to me
For there I lost my father dear
My father dear, and brethren three
The winding-sheets, the bloody clay
Their graves are growing green to see
And by them lies her dearest lad
That ever bless'd her woman's knee
Now wey to thee, thou cruel Lord
A bloody man I true thou be
For many a heart thou hast made sore
That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee