#Scots
Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot fo… Owre blate to seek, owre proud to… Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing doo…
Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d wi… A burden more than I can bear, I set me down and sigh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road,
O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse,
THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concer… I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne’er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae,
WHY am I loth to leave this eart… Have I so found it full of pleasi… Some drops of joy with draughts of… Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renew… Is it departing pangs my soul alar…
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
Wishfully I look and languish In that bonie face o’ thine, And my heart it sounds wi’ anguish… Lest my wee thing be na mine. [Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie…
O I’ve walked o’er yon countries… Among Airlin’s braw lasses I’ve h… Comin’ hame in the mornins, fin I… Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin’s f… O the first thing I did, fin I ga…
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving… The blinding sleet and snaw: While tumbling brown, the burn com…
THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,
Here lies a mock Marquis, whose t… If ever he rise, it will be to be…
PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay… As ever trod on airn; But now she’s floating down the N… And past the mouth o’ Cairn. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare…
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddi… Willie was a wabster guid Could stown a clue wi onie body. He had a wife was dour and din,
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…
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…