#ScottishWriters
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to… The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud shrill`s I hear the blas… I`m sure it`s winters fairly. CHORUS:Up in the morning`s no f…
A Tale “Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full… Gawin Douglas. When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neibors neibors meet;
My love, she’s but a lassie yet, My love, she’s but a lassie yet! We’ll let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae saucy yet! I rue the day I sought her, O!
LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s… His chicken heart so tender; But build a castle on his head, His scull will prop it under.
How can I keep my maidenhead, My maidenhead, my maidenhead; How can I keep my maidenhead, Among sae mony men, O. The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse,
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…
AMONG the heathy hills and ragge… 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…
Thou’s welcome, wean; mishanter fa… If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy ma… Shall ever daunton me or awe me, My bonie lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’…
HERE Souter Hood in death does… To hell if he’s gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep; He’ll haud it weel thegither.
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…
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…
FAIR maid, you need not take the… Nor idle texts pursue: 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant… Not Angels such as you.
O thou! whatever title suit thee,- Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clo… Wha in yon cavern, grim an’ sootie… Clos’d under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cooti…
By Allan stream I chanc’d to rove… While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi… The winds are whispering thro’ the… The yellow corn was waving ready: I listen’d to a lover’s sang,