‘O WHA will shoe my bonny foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will bind my middle jimp Wi’ a lang, lang linen band? ‘O wha will kame my yellow hair,
‘Oh, you must answer my questions… Sing ninety-nine and ninety, Or you’re not God’s, you’re one o… And you are the weaver’s bonny.’ ‘What is whiter than the milk?
My friend iudge not me, Thou seest I iudge not thee: Betwixt the stirrop and the ground… Mercy I askt, mercy I found.
O WALY, waly, up the bank, And waly, waly, doun the brae, And waly, waly, yon burn-side, Where I and my Love wont to ga… I lean’d my back unto an aik,
MY heart is high above, my body i… For I am set in luve as well as I… I luve my lady pure and she luvis… I am her serviture, she is my sove… She is my very heart, I am her ho…
Please God, forsake your water an… And fling the bitter cress you eat… Put by your rosary. In Mary’s nam… To mildewing monks in Rome. Spring’s at work in gardens bright…
THE Indian weed withered quite; Green at morn, cut down at night; Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay: Thus think, then drink Tobacco… And when the smoke ascends on high…
All night I muse, all day I cry, Ay me! Yet still I wish, though still de… Ay me! I sigh, I mourn, and say that sti…
AS I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane: The tane unto the tither did say, ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the da… ‘—In behint yon auld fail dyke
God and the soldier All men adore In time of trouble, And no more; For when war is over
AS ye came from the holy land Of Walsinghame, Met you not with my true love By the way as you came? How should I know your true love,
The sea hath many thousand sands, The sun hath motes as many; The sky is full of stars, and Lov… As full of woes as any: Believe me, that do know the elf,
She’ll be comin’ round the mountai… When she comes. She’ll be comin’ round the mountai… When she comes. She’ll be comin’ round the mountai…
BALOW, my babe, lie still and sl… It grieves me sore to see thee wee… Wouldst thou be quiet I’se be gla… Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad: Balow my boy, thy mother’s joy,
Westron wind, when wilt thou blow That small rain down can rain? Christ, that my love were in my ar… And I in my bed again!