O WHAT a plague is love! How shall I bear it? She will inconstant prove, I greatly fear it. She so torments my mind
Every year Grandma gets a tin of… She always says, 'Ah my favouri… Even before she opens the wrapping Grandpa always says, 'Well, I k… Its two pairs of socks. Just what…
She’ll be comin’ round the mountai… When she comes. She’ll be comin’ round the mountai… When she comes. She’ll be comin’ round the mountai…
BYTUENE Mershe ant Averil When spray biginneth to spring, The lutel foul hath hire wyl On hyre lud to synge: Ich libbe in love-longinge
SISTER, awake! close not your e… The day her light discloses, And the bright morning doth arise Out of her bed of roses. See the clear sun, the world’s bri…
Moo, moo, brown cow Have you any milk? Yes miss, three jugs smooth as sil… One for you, And one for me,
I WISH I were where Helen lies, Night and day on me she cries; O that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirconnell lea! Curst be the heart that thought th…
AS I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane: The tane unto the tither did say, ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the da… ‘—In behint yon auld fail dyke
The voice that beautifies the land… The voice above, The voice of thunder Within the dark cloud Again and again it sounds,
Anonymous English Christmas carol… (first published in the children’s… On the first day of Christmas, My true love sent to me A partridge in a pear tree.
MY heart is high above, my body i… For I am set in luve as well as I… I luve my lady pure and she luvis… I am her serviture, she is my sove… She is my very heart, I am her ho…
The following Epilogue to “The Padlock” was written by a very worthy Clergyman, soon after the first representation of that opera. The author of this little poem died in the Summer of 1...
I know a funny little man, As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody’s house. There’s no one ever sees his face,
HEY nonny no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is ‘t not fine to dance and sing When the bells of death do ring? Is ’t not fine to swim in wine,
The king sits in Dumferling toune… Drinking the blude-reid wine: “O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine?” Up and spak an eldern knicht,