Late at e’en, drinking the wine, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing. ‘What though ye be my sister’s lor…
We redeth oft and findeth ywrite - And this clerkes wele it wite - Layes that ben in harping Ben yfounde of ferli thing. Sum bethe of wer and sum of wo,
(From The Point of View, U.S.,… “THE LOVE I bear you, dearest, Would make the sweetest tale, We’d sail upon a sea of bliss, And I would lift the sail.
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a… For you but not for me: And the little devils how they sin… For you but not for me. O death, where is thy sting-a-ling…
There were three ravens sat on a t… They were as black as they might b… The one of them said to his mate, ‘Where shall we our breakefast tak… ‘Downe in yonder greene field,
Soldiers who wish to be a hero Are practically zero. But those who wish to be civilians… Jesus, they run into millions.
THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte, —Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule. When thou from hence away art past…
IT fell on a day, and a bonnie si… When green grew aits and barley… That there fell out a great disput… Between Argyll and Airlie. Argyll has raised an hunder men,
O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn-side Where I and my Love wont to gae! I leant my back unto an aik,
Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my C… Titan shineth clear. Corydon. Who is it that calleth C… Who is it that I hear? Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, ca…
My one, the sister without peer, The handsomest of all! She looks like the rising morning… At the start of a happy year. Shining bright, fair of skin,
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,
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers, O, my Gawd, how they could love, They swore to be true to each othe… As true as the stars above; He was her man, but he done her wr…
ICHOT a burde in boure bryht, That fully semly is on syht, Menskful maiden of myht; Feir ant fre to fonde; In al this wurhliche won
YE Highlands and ye Lawlands, O where hae ye been? They hae slain the Earl of Murray… And hae laid him on the green. Now wae be to thee, Huntley!