MARY RAY AN’ ME.
Reading edition
Bonnie Mary Ray an’ me Wer’ barnish sweethearts lang, But I was wild an’ yūng, an’ she Was niver reetly strang; Sooa frinds o’ beàth sides threep’t it sair ’At partit we sud be— An’ life was darken’t t’ lang-er t’ mair To Mary Ray an’ me. But yance lāl Mary Ray an’ me Met oot on Woker Broo, When t’ clouds burn’t reid far oot at sea, An’ t’ sūn com’ bleezin’ through, An’ sent ya lang-droan glissenin’ ray Across that dowly sea, Like t’ promish of a happier day To Mary Ray an’ me. An’ “Sees t’e, Mary Ray,” I says, “That lang low line o’ leet;— It cūms to say oor leàter days May yit be fair an’ breet, An’ t’ cloods ’at darken owre us noo May rive like yon we see, An’ t’ sūn o’ love cūm glentin through, To shine on thee an’ me.” But Mary lean’t her sinkin heid Ageàn my heavin’ breist “Tūrn roond,” she said, “an’ say asteed, What reads t’e here i’ t’ East; For t’ East’s mair sure to guide us reet, If dark an’ coald it be; It’s liker life—nor that reid leet— To Mary Ray an’ thee.” I turn’t an’ leùk’t wid bodeful glooar, Whoar o’ was coald an’ gray, An’ like a ghost reàse t’ white church tooar, To freeten whope away; An’ Woker’s shadow heap’t a gloom Owre beck, an’ field, an’ tree, ’At said far darker days mud cūm To Mary Ray an’ me. An’ niver mair on Woker Broo I strowl’t wid Mary Ray; They partit us that winter through— An’ than I went away. An’ Mary in her grave they’d laid When I com’ back frae t’ sea;— ’Twas true what Woker’s shadow said To Mary Ray an’ me.
