#Scots #XVIIICentury
A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie 's gien us a’ a jink,
O that I had ne’er been married, I wad never had nae care, Now I’ve gotten wife an’ weans, An’ they cry “ Crowdie ” evermair… Chorus:
CURSE on ungrateful man, that ca… And yet can starve the author of t… O thou, my elder brother in misfor… By far my elder brother in the Mu… With tears I pity thy unhappy fat…
NO more, ye warblers of the wood!… Nor pour your descant grating on m… Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in th… More welcome were to me grim Wint… How can ye charm, ye flowers, with…
Humid seal of soft affections, Tend’rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love’s first snow—drop, virgin kis… Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Ah, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye’ve born me: For sair contention I maun bear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne’er could lend on bill or band…
Sad bird of night, what sorrows ca… To vent thy plaints thus in the mi… Is it some blast that gathers in t… Threatening to nip the verdure of… Is it, sad oul, that Autumn strip…
EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’… Planted by Satan’s dibble; Poor silly wretch, he’s damned him… To save the Lord the trouble.
THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme… Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddes… That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and s…
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…
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary… And leave auld Scotia’s shore; Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary… Across th’ Atlantic roar. O sweet grows the lime and the ora…
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
I MURDER hate by flood or field… Tho’ glory’s name may screen us; In wars at home I’ll spend my blo… Life-giving wars of Venus. The deities that I adore
WHAT dost thou in that mansion f… Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind. ———No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
Musing on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying heav’n in warm devotion, For his weal where’er he be. Hope and Fear’s alternate billow
