#ScottishWriters
THERE’S Death in the cup, so be… Nay, more’there is danger in tou… But who can avoid the fell snare, The man and his wine’s so bewitchi…
WHA will buy my troggin, fine ele… Broken trade o’ Broughton, a’ in… Chorus.'Buy braw troggin frae t… Wha wants troggin let him come to… There’s a noble Earl’s fame and h…
Tune - “Galla Water.” Altho’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie; Yet happy, happy would I be, Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg…
It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light… I held away to Annie: The time flew by wi’ tentless heed
AS Tam the chapman on a day, Wi’Death forgather’d by the way, Weel pleas’d, he greets a wight so… And Death was nae less pleas’d wi… Wha cheerfully lays down his pack,
FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and… The wretch’s destinie! M’Pherson’s time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.'Sae rantingly, sae want…
FATE gave the word, the arrow sp… And pierc’d my darling’s heart; And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. By cruel hands the sapling drops,
O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour… Those smiles and glances let me se… That makes the miser’s treasure po… How blythely wad I bide the stour…
Upon that night, when fairies ligh… On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz… On sprightly coursers prance; Or for Colean the route is ta’en,
Wishfully I look and languish In that bonie face o’ thine, And my heart it sounds wi’ anguish… Lest my wee thing be na mine. [Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie…
HAIL, thairm-inspirin’, rattlin’… Tho’ fortune’s road be rough an’ h… To every fiddling, rhyming billie, We never heed, But take it like the unback’d fill…
The man, in life wherever plac’d, Hath happiness in store, Who walks not in the wicked’s way, Nor learns their guilty lore! Nor from the seat of scornful prid…
On a bank of flowers in a summer d… For summer lightly drest, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie, wand’ring thro the w…
YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain… For few sic feasts you’ve gotten; And fix your claws in Nicol’s hea… For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.
O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well,