#ScottishWriters
HOW cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter
My heart’s in the Highlands, my h… My heart’s in the Highlands, a-ch… Chasing the wild-deer, and followi… My heart’s in the Highlands, wher… Farewell to the Highlands, farewe…
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,
Wha is that at my bower-door? O wha is it but Findlay; Then gae your gate, ye’se nae be h… Indeed maun I, quo’ Findlay. What mak ye, sae like a thief?
THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,
Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d wi… A burden more than I can bear, I set me down and sigh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road,
Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…
There was three kings unto the eas… Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They took a plough and plough’d hi…
THE LADDIES by the banks o’ N… Wad trust his Grace 1 wi a’, Jami… But he’ll sair them, as he sair’d… Turn tail and rin awa’, Jamie. Chorus.'Up and waur them a’, Ja…
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…
The sun lies clasped in amber clou… Half hidden in the sea, And o’er the sands the flowing tid… Comes racing merrilee. The hawthorn hedge is white with b…
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.
As down the burn they took their w… And thro’ the flowery dale; His cheek to hers he aft did lay, And love was aye the tale. With “Mary, when shall we return,
OF a’ the airts the wind can blaw… I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers…
Air—“Deil tak the wars.” Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passio… Poor is all that princely pride.