#Scots #XVIIICentury
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…
Will ye go the Highlands Leezie… Will ye go to the Highlands wi’ m… Will ye go to the Highlands Leezi… My pride and my darling to be.
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an ho… Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander’d in those paths
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… She’s down in the yard, she’s kiss… She winna come hame to her ain Jo… O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M…
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,
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…
THERE was a lass, and she was fa… At kirk or market to be seen; When a’ our fairest maids were met… The fairest maid was bonie Jean. And aye she wrought her mammie’s w…
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…
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…
O LEAVE novels, 1 ye Mauchline… Ye’re safer at your spinning-wheel… Such witching books are baited hoo… For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgi… Your fine Tom Jones and Grandiso…
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…
Yestreen I had a pint o’ wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o’ min… The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness
AS cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in’t but few: As cauld a minister’s e’er spak; Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.
I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, 'twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammy yet. I am my mammny’s ae bairn,
’Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier. An’ Charlie, he’s my darling,
