Here stand my books, line upon lin… They reach the roof, and row by ro… They speak of faded tastes of mine… And things I did, but do not, kno… Old school books, useless long ago…

Four-and-twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh… And he playd o’er them a’. He kickd the ba with his right foo…

Swift as sound of music fled When no more the organ sighs, Sped as all old days are sped, So your lips, love, and your eyes, So your gentle-voiced replies

Clavers and his Highlandmen Came down upo’ the raw, man, Who being stout, gave mony a clout… The lads began to claw then. With sword and terge into their ha…

The man whom once, Melpomene, Thou look’st on with benignant sig… Shall never at the Isthmus be A boxer eminent in fight, Nor fares he foremost in the fligh…

In twilight of the longest day I lingered over Lucian, Till ere the dawn a dreamy way My spirit found, untrod of man, Between the green sky and the grey…

There are laddies will drive ye a… To the burn frae the farthermost t… But ye mauna think driving is a’, Ye may heel her, and send her ajee… Ye may land in the sand or the sea…

Light has flown! Through the grey The wind’s way The sea’s moan Sound alone!

Ah, listen through the music, from… The 'melancholy long-withdrawing r… Beneath the Minster, and the wind… The wide North Ocean, marshalling… Even so forlorn—in worlds beyond o…

Come, all you brave gallants, and… With hey down, down, an a down, That are in the bowers within; For of Robin Hood, that archer go… A song I intend for to sing.

The gypsies came to our good lord’… And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very c… That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the sta…

Here be the fairest homes the land… The silvery-cliffed Colonus; alwa… The nightingale doth haunt and sin… For well the deep green gardens do… Groves of the God, where winds ma…

Mysterious Benedetta! who That Reynolds or that Romney drew Was ever half so fair as you, Or is so well forgot? These eyes of melancholy brown,

HAD cigarettes no ashes, And roses ne’er a thorn, No man would be a funker Of whin, or burn, or bunker. There were no need for mashies,

As I came in by Dunidier, An doun by Netherha, There was fifty thousand Hielanme… A marching to Harlaw. (Chorus) Wi a dree dree dradie dr…