#ScottishWriters
As I was a-wand’ring ae morning i… I heard a young ploughman sae swee… And as he was singin’, thir words… There’s nae life like the ploughma… The lav’rock in the morning she’ll…
My heart is a—breaking, dear Titt… Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fello…
MARK yonder pomp of costly fashi… Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passio… Poor is all that princely pride. Mark yonder, &c. (four lines r…
THE WIND blew hollow frae the h… By fits the sun’s departing beam Look’d on the fading yellow woods, That wav’d o’er Lugar’s winding s… Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard,
I HAE been at Crookieden, My bonie laddie, Highland laddie, Viewing Willie and his men, My bonie laddie, Highland laddie. There our foes that burnt and slew…
ONCE fondly lov’d, and still rem… Sweet early object of my youthful… Accept this mark of friendship, wa… Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now… And when you read the simple artle…
Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d wi… A burden more than I can bear, I set me down and sigh: O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road,
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,
Should auld acquaintance be forgot… And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot… And auld lang syne! Chorus —For auld land syne, my de…
Chorus’O aye my wife she dang m… An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, If ye gie a woman a’ her will, Gude faith! she’ll soon o’er-gang… ON peace an’ rest my mind was ben…
LET other heroes boast their scar… The marks of sturt and strife: And other poets sing of wars, The plagues of human life: Shame fa’ the fun, wi’ sword and g…
O THAT I had ne’er been married… I wad never had nae care, Now I’ve gotten wife an’ weans, An’ they cry “Crowdie” evermair. Chorus.'Ance crowdie, twice cro…
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…
“O CAM ye here the fight to shun… Or herd the sheep wi’ me, man? Or were ye at the Sherra-moor, Or did the battle see, man?” I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
SHE’S fair and fause that causes… I lo’ed her meikle and lang; She’s broken her vow, she’s broken… And I may e’en gae hang. A coof cam in wi’ routh o’ gear,