Marie, la petite fille ©

She wis such a bonnie lassie wi’ a twinkle in her een
When Mary sailed awa’ wi’ the Fleet o’ the French Marine
Frae Dumbarton Rock in her prettiest frock she had feenished potty trainin’
She wis only wee, she’d had her tea, it wis dull an’ dreich an’ it wis rainin’

There wis naewhere else tae go, for Mary an’ her freen’s
She didnae even know that they had taken her tae France
‘Till she wis in her teens, eatin’ up a’ yon French runner beans
An’ learnin’ frae the ither lassies, how tae dae the can-can dance

She grew up tae be beautiful, fu’ o’ grace an’ inteligence
Merriein’ the Dauphin, her Prince, he wis elegant
He sat oan the throne as Francis the second
Daein’ everythin’ for oor Mary, whenever she beckoned

Their merriege lasted for only a year
Wi’ Mary cryin’ mony a tear
For Francis her lover, her Prince an’ her Dauphin
Had lain doon an’ deid in a wee fit o’ coughin’

Mary wisnae happy tae be leavin’ France.
Wonderin’ whit future wid be waitin’ her at hame.
An’ so she decided tae lose hersel’ in dance.
Tae forget a’ her worries, an’ a’ her claims tae fame.
She wid merry a wee Lord wi’ a mansion hoose in Ayr
So long as he had the room, for a big dance flerr.