#ScottishWriters
HOW cold is that bosom which foll… How pale is that cheek where the r… How silent that tongue which the e… How dull is that ear which to flat… If sorrow and anguish their exit a…
Now in her green mantle blythe Na… And listens the lambkins that blea… While birds warble welcomes in ilk… But to me it’s delightless-my Nan… The snawdrap and primrose our wood…
Guid—Mornin’ to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev’ry new birth—day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My bardship here, at your Levee
Clarinda, mistress of my soul, The measur’d time is run! The wretch beneath the dreary pole… So marks his latest sun. To what dark cave of frozen night
YE hypocrites! are these your pra… To murder men and give God thanks… Desist, for shame!—proceed no furt… God won’t accept your thanks for…
Blythe hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o’er me: Now nae langer sport and play,
O wilt thou go wi’ me, sweet Tibb… O wilt thou go wi’ me, sweet Tibb… Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be d… Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbi… I care na thy daddie, his lands an…
Talk not of love, it gives me pain… For love has been my foe; He bound me in an iron chain, And plung’d me deep in woe. But friendship’s pure and lasting…
THERE was a wife wonn’d in Cock… Scroggam; She brew’d gude ale for gentlemen; Sing auld Cowl lay ye down by me, Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
Scots, what hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;
Here awa’, there awa’, wandering,… Here awa’, there awa’, haud awa’ h… Come to my bosom, my ae only deary… Tell me thou bring’st me my Willi… Loud tho’ the winter blew cauld on…
O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… Tho’ father an’ mother an’ a’ shou… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… But warily tent when ye come to co…
A Tale “Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full… Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neibors neibors meet;
Wae is my heart, and the tear’s in… Lang lang Joy’s been a stranger t… Forsaken and friendless, my burden… And the sweet voice o’ Pity ne’er… Love thou hast pleasures, and deep…
THERE 1 was a lad was born in K… But whatna day o’ whatna style, I doubt it’s hardly worth the whil… To be sae nice wi’ Robin. Chor.—Robin was a rovin’ boy,