#Scots #XVIIICentury
HE who of Rankine sang, lies stif… And a green grassy hillock hides h… Alas! alas! a devilish change inde…
How can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my Sailor lad; How can I the thought forego, He’s on the seas to meet the foe: Let me wander, let me rove,
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…
O were my Love yon Lilack fair, Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring… And I, a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing. How I wad mourn, when it was torn
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…
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,
AS I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dew… Where the howlet mourns in her ivy… And tells the midnight moon her ca… The winds were laid, the air was s…
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear… Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear… Ye Jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maun blame —you…
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,
KNOW thou, O stranger to the fam… Of this much lov’d, much honoured… (For none that knew him need be to… A warmer heart death ne’er made co…
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…
YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain… For few sic feasts you’ve gotten; And fix your claws in Nicol’s hea… For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.
WHEN Guilford good our pilot sto… An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
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…
LET not Woman e’er complain Of inconstancy in love; Let not Woman e’er complain Fickle Man is apt to rove: Look abroad thro’ Nature’s range,
