#ScottishWriters
Wee, sleeket, cowrin, tim’rous bea… Oh, what a panic’s in thy breastie… Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase th…
THE GLOOMY night is gath’ring… Loud roars the wild, inconstant bl… Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o’er the plain; The hunter now has left the moor.
PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay… As ever trod on airn; But now she’s floating down the N… And past the mouth o’ Cairn. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare…
GANE is the day, and mirk’s the… But we’ll ne’er stray for faut o’… Gude ale and bratdy’s stars and mo… And blue-red wine’s the risin’ sun… Chorus.'Then gudewife, count th…
HOW cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter
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…
BUT lately seen in gladsome green… The woods rejoic’d the day, Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing… In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled
HEALTH to the Maxwell’s vetera… Health, aye unsour’d by care or gr… Inspir’d, I turn’d Fate’s sibyl l… This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o’ prief,
There’s nane that’s blest of human… But the cheerful and the gay, man. Here’s a bottle and an honest frie… What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end,
The Author’s Only Pet Yowe An Unco Mournfu’ Tale As Mailie, an’ her lambs thegithe… Was ae day nibbling on the tether, Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,
Last May a braw wooer cam down th… And sair wi’ his love he did deave… I said there was naething I hated… The deuce gae wi ‘m to believe me,… The deuce gae wi ’m to believe me.
DEAR SIR, at ony time or tide, I’d rather sit wi’ you than ride, Though 'twere wi’ royal Geordie: And trowth, your kindness, soon an… Aft gars me to mysel’ look blate—
THINE be the volumes, Jessy fai… And with them take the Poet’s pra… That Fate may, in her fairest pag… With ev’ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enroll thy name:
Is there for honesty poverty That hings his head, an’ a’ that; The coward slave - we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
FINTRY, my stay in wordly strif… Friend o’ my muse, friend o’ my li… Are ye as idle’s I am? Come then, wi’ uncouth kintra fleg… O’er Pegasus I’ll fling my leg,