#Scots #XVIIICentury
Chorus:—Bonie wee thing, cannie w… Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. Wishfully I look and languish
Where braving angry Winter’s stor… The lofty Ochels rise, Far in their shade my Peggy’s cha… First blest my wondering eyes. As one who by some savage stream
Here’s a health to them that’s awa… Here’s a health to them that’s awa And wha winna wish guid luck to ou… May never guid luck be their fa’! It’s guid to be merry and wise,
What will I do gin my Hoggie die, My joy, my pride, my Hoggie: My only beast, I had nae mae, And vow but I was vogie. The lee-lang night we watch’d the…
Upon that night, when fairies ligh… On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz… On sprightly coursers prance; Or for Colean the route is ta’en,
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,
Coming thro’ the rye, poor body, Coming thro’ the rye, She draiglet a’ her petticoatie Coming thro’ the rye. O, Jenny’s a’ wat, poor body;
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, 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…
CEASE, ye prudes, your envious r… Lovely Burns has charms’confess… True it is, she had one failing, Had a woman ever less?
Auld Coila now may fidge fu’ fain… She’s gotten poets o’ her ain— Chiels wha their chanters winna ha… But tune their lays, Till echoes a’ resound again
The winter it is past, and the sum… And the small birds, they sing on… Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I… Since my true love is parted from… The rose upon the breer, by the wa…
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…
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous bea… O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase th…
IN wood and wild, ye warbling thr… Your heavy loss deplore; Now, half extinct your powers of s… Sweet Echo is no more. Ye jarring, screeching things arou…
