#Scots #XVIIICentury
O HAD each Scot of ancient times Been, Jeanie Scott, as thou art; The bravest heart on English grou… Had yielded like a coward.
HOW wisdom and Folly meet, mix,… How Virtue and Vice blend their b… How Genius, th’ illustrious fathe… Confounds rule and law, reconciles… I sing: If these mortals, the cri…
A Guide New—year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe—backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…
I dream’d I lay where flowers wer… Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singin… By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and da…
Sweet are the banks– the banks o’… The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu’ o’ care. Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…
ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stor… When deprived of her husband she l… In respect for the love and affect… She reduc’d him to dust and she dr… But Queen Netherplace, of a diff’…
Though cruel Fate should bid us p… Far as the Pole and Line, Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine: Though mountains rise, and deserts…
As I was a-wand’ring ae morning i… I heard a young ploughman sae swee… And as he was singin’, thir words… There’s nae life like the ploughma… The lav’rock in the morning she’ll…
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…
I AM a keeper of the law In some sma’ points, altho’ not a’… Some people tell me gin I fa’, Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho’ sma…
OH, open the door, some pity to s… Oh, open the door to me, oh, Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll e… Oh, open the door to me, oh. Cauld is the blast upon my pale ch…
Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;
Whom will you send to London town… To Parliament and a’ that? Or wha in a’ the country round The best deserves to fa’ that? For a’ that, and a’ that;
Dear Sir, I’ll gie ye some advice… You’ll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair, But try and paint the devil. To paint an Angel’s kittle wark,
Altho’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie, Yet happy, happy would I be Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg… When o’er the hill beat surly stor…