When day is done I steal away To fold my hands in rest, And of my hours this moment grey I love the best; So quietly I sit alone

Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gles… “That’s whit I hate maist aboot f… Noo jist hae a keek at yon ferm—ho… Weel, think o’ it, doon in the dun… A’ hell’s fairly belchin’ oot yonn…

“This bunch of violets,” he said, “Is for my daughter dear. Since that glad morn when she was… It is today a year. She lives atop this flight of stai…

My first I wed when just sixteen And he was sixty—five. He treated me like any queen The years he was alive. Oh I betrayed him on the sly,

Three men I saw beside a bar, Regarding o’er their bottle, A frog who smoked a rank cigar They’d jammed within its throttle. A Pasha frog it must have been

My Louis loved me oh so well And spiered me for his wife; He would have haled me from the he… That was my bawdy life: The mother of his bairns to be,

Mud is Beauty in the making, Mud is melody awaking; Laughter, leafy whisperings, Butterflies with rainbow wings; Baby babble, lover’s sighs,

Life, you’ve been mighty good to m… Yet here’s the end of the trail; No more mountain, moor and sea, No more saddle and sail. Waves a—leap in the laughing sun

My virtues in Carara stone Cut carefully you all my scan; Beneath I lie, a fetid bone, The marble worth more than the man… If on my pure tomb they should gra…

We have no aspiration vain For paradise Utopian, And here in our sun—happy Spain, Though man exploit his fellow man, To high constraint we humbly yield…

When a man gits on his uppers in a… An’ he ain’t got nothin’ comin’ an… An’ he’s in a fix for lodgin’ an’… An’ you’d fancy he’d been boozin’,… When he’s feelin’ sneakin’ sorry a…

“Lord God of Hosts,” the people p… “Make strong our arms that we may… Our cursed foe and win the day.” “Lord God of Battles,” cries the… “Guide us to strike a bloody blow,

Grand—daughter of the Painted Nai… As if they had been dipped in gore… I’d like to set you lugging pails And make you scrub the kitchen flo… I’m old and crotchety of course,

Heaven’s mighty sweet, I guess; Ain’t no rush to git there: Been a sinner, more or less; Maybe wouldn’t fit there. Wicked still, bound to confess;

Of all the meals that glad my day My morning one’s the best; Purveyed me on a silver tray, Immaculately dressed. I rouse me when the dawn is bright…