#ScottishWriters
SWEET naïveté of feature, Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Not to thee, but thanks to Nature… Thou art acting but thyself. Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected…
Now simmer blinks on flow’ry braes… And o’er the crystal streamlet pla… Come, let us spend the lightsome d… In the birks of Aberfeldie! Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
The heather was blooming, the mead… Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at… O’er moors and o’er mosses and mon… At length they discover’d a bonie… Chorus.-I rede you, beware at the…
WHY am I loth to leave this eart… Have I so found it full of pleasi… Some drops of joy with draughts of… Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renew… Is it departing pangs my soul alar…
Should auld acquaintance be forgot… And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot… And auld lang syne! Chorus —For auld land syne, my de…
Sweet fa’s the eve on Craigieburn… And blythe awakens the morrow, But a’ the pride o’ spring’s retur… Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading tr…
IT was a’ for our rightfu’ King We left fair Scotland’s strand; It was a’ for our rightfu’ King We e’er saw Irish land, My dear—
Tune - “Laggan Burn.” Here’s to thy health, my bonie las… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee.
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…
LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s… His chicken heart so tender; But build a castle on his head, His scull will prop it under.
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the puddin—race… Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to… The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud shrill`s I hear the blas… I`m sure it`s winters fairly. CHORUS:Up in the morning`s no f…
Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…
Now westlin winds and slaught’ring… Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather; The moorcock springs on whirring w… Amang the blooming heather: Now waving grain, wide o’er the pl…
There’s nane that’s blest of human… But the cheerful and the gay, man. Here’s a bottle and an honest frie… What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end,