Though Missouri'stide may majestic glide,
There's a curse on the soil it laves;
The Ohio, too, may be fair, but who
In vain do springtime's many charms essay
To chase the gloom in Aray's glen to-day ;
The strains that there once charmed my listening ear
Can ne'er again avail my heart to cheer.
When that fair star, so late my soul's delight,
She died — as die the roses
On the ruddy clouds of dawn,
When tlie envious sun discloses
His flame and morning's gone.
Chorus.—Hey, my winsome Mary,—
Mary fondly free !
Hey, my winsome Mary,
; Mary, mine to be !