#ScottishWriters
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.
I dream’d I lay where flowers wer… Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singin… By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and da…
FROM those drear solitudes and f… Where Infamy with sad Repentance… Where turnkeys make the jealous po… And deal from iron hands the spare… Where truant 'prentices, yet young…
THERE was once a day, but old T… That brave Caledonia, the chief o… From some of your northern deities… (Who knows not that brave Caledon… From Tweed to the Orcades was her…
STILL anxious to secure your par… And not less anxious, sure, this n… A Prologue, Epilogue, or some suc… 'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if… So sought a poet, roosted near the…
O THOU whom Poetry abhors, Whom Prose has turnèd out of doo… Heard’st thou yon groan?'proceed… 'Twas laurel’d Martial calling mu…
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an ho… Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander’d in those paths
Chorus’O gude ale comes and gud… Gude ale gars me sell my hose, Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon’ Gude ale keeps my heart aboon! I HAD sax owsen in a pleugh,
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…
'TWAS in the seventeen hunder ye… O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth…
YE flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonni…
Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…
HAS auld Kilmarnock seen the dei… Or great Mackinlay 1 thrawn his h… Or Robertson 2 again grown weel, To preach an’ read? “Na’ waur than a’! cries ilka chie…
OH, open the door, some pity to s… Oh, open the door to me, oh, Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll e… Oh, open the door to me, oh. Cauld is the blast upon my pale ch…
At a relic aul’ croft upon the hil… Roon the neuk frae Sprottie’s mil… Tryin’ a’ his life tae jine the ki… Lived Geordie MacIntyre. He had a wife as sweir’s himsel’