#ScottishWriters
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon… How can ye bloom sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonni…
THE LAMP of day, with-ill presa… Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the west… Th’ inconstant blast howl’d thro’… And hollow whistled in the rocky c… Lone as I wander’d by each cliff…
Chorus.-O lovely Polly Stewart, O charming Polly Stewart, There’s ne’er a flower that blooms… That’s half so fair as thou art! The flower it blaws, it fades, it…
ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ fr… A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind momento: But how the subject—theme may gang…
How can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my Sailor lad; How can I the thought forego, He’s on the seas to meet the foe: Let me wander, let me rove,
‘And send the godly in a pet to pr… O Thou, that in the heavens does… Wha, as it pleases best Thysel’, Sends ane to heaven an’ ten to hel… A’ for Thy glory,
IN wood and wild, ye warbling thr… Your heavy loss deplore; Now, half extinct your powers of s… Sweet Echo is no more. Ye jarring, screeching things arou…
O COULD I give thee India’s we… As I this trifle send; Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. But golden sands did never grace
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll… Warring sighs and groans I’ll wag… Who shall say that Fortune grieve…
GO fetch to me a pint o’ wine, An’ fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o’ Lei…
A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie 's gien us a’ a jink,
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving… The blinding sleet and snaw: While tumbling brown, the burn com…
HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv… In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae… Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d 'Mang heaps o’ clavers: And och! o’er aft thy joes hae sta…
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent; But now your brow is bled, John,
