#ScottishWriters
HOW wisdom and Folly meet, mix,… How Virtue and Vice blend their b… How Genius, th’ illustrious fathe… Confounds rule and law, reconciles… I sing: If these mortals, the cri…
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…
O HAD each Scot of ancient times Been, Jeanie Scott, as thou art; The bravest heart on English grou… Had yielded like a coward.
THE KING’S most humble servant… Can scarcely spare a minute; But I’ll be wi’ you by an’ by; Or else the Deil’s be in it.
How can I keep my maidenhead, My maidenhead, my maidenhead; How can I keep my maidenhead, Among sae mony men, O. The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
NO 1 sculptured marble here, nor… “No storied urn nor animated bust;… This simple stone directs pale Sc… To pour her sorrows o’er the Poet… ADDITIONAL STANZASShe mou…
My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are p… And proper young lasses and a’, ma… But ken ye the Ronalds that live… They carry the gree frae them a’,… Their father’s laird, and weel he…
If ye gae up to yon hill—tap, Ye’ll there see bonie Peggy; She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth’s a leddy. There Sophy tight, a lassie brigh…
WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye
When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market—days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
THE FRIEND whom, wild from Wi… The fumes of wine infuriate send, (Not moony madness more astray) Who but deplores that hapless frie… Mine was th’ insensate frenzied pa…
Chorus.'Lassie wi’the lint-whit… Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks, Wilt thou be my Dearie, O? NOW Nature cleeds the flowery le…
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…
WHEN Princes and Prelates, And hot-headed zealots, A’ Europe had set in a low, a low… The poor man lies down, Nor envies a crown,