#Scots #XVIIICentury
Her flowing locks, the raven’s win… Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to clin… And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew,
Fair Empress of the poet’s soul, And Queen of poetesses; Clarinda, take this little boon, This humble pair of glasses: And fill them up with generous jui…
HEY, the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat,
Here lies John Bushby—honest man, Cheat him, Devil—if you can!
When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market—days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
At a relic aul’ croft upon the hil… Roon the neuk frae Sprottie’s mil… Tryin’ a’ his life tae jine the ki… Lived Geordie MacIntyre. He had a wife as sweir’s himsel’
FATE gave the word, the arrow sp… And pierc’d my darling’s heart; And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. By cruel hands the sapling drops,
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—
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…
When Princes and Prelates and het… All Europe hae set in a lowe, The poor man lies down, nor envies… And comforts himsel with a mowe. And why shouldna poor folk mowe, m…
THOU, who thy honour as thy God… Who, save thy mind’s reproach, nou… To thee this votive offering I im… The tearful tribute of a broken he… The Friend thou valued’st, I, the…
O Thou dread Power, who reign’st… I know thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and l… I make this prayer sincere. The hoary Sire —the mortal stroke…
O Thou, the first, the greatest f… Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever b… Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav’d their…
Among the heathy hills and ragged… The roaring Fyers pours his mossy… Till full he dashes on the rocky m… Where, thro’ a shapeless breach, h… As high in air the bursting torren…
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort n… Far, far from thee, I wander here… Far, far from thee, the fate sever… At which I most repine, Love. Chorus.—O wert thou, Love, but ne…
