#ScottishWriters
HERE I 'd come when weariest! Here the breast Of the Windberg’s tufted over Deep with bracken; here his crest Takes the west,
HAD cigarettes no ashes, And roses ne’er a thorn, No man would be a funker Of whin, or burn, or bunker. There were no need for mashies,
When captaines couragious, whom de… Did march to the siege of the citt… They mustred their souldiers by tw… And the formost in battle was Mar… When [the] brave sergeant-major wa…
Money taketh town and wall, Fort and ramp without a blow; Money moves the merchants all, While the tides shall ebb and flow… Money maketh Evil show
The gypsies came to our good lord’… And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very c… That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the sta…
MID April seemed like some Novem… When through the glassy waters, du… Our boat, like shadowy barques tha… Slipped down the long shores of th… Rounded a point,—and San Terenzo…
Where smooth the southern waters r… By rustling leagues of poplars gre… Beneath a veiled soft southern sun… We wandered out of yesterday, Went maying through that ancient…
There lived a king in southern lan… King Edward hight his name; Unwordily he wore the crown, Till fifty years were gane. He had a sister’s son o’s ain,
NIGHT. Ah, listen through the music, from… The 'melancholy long-withdrawing r… Beneath the Minster, and the wind… The wide North Ocean, marshalling…
As, to the pipe, with rhythmic fee… In windings of some old-world danc… The smiling couples cross and meet… Join hands, and then in line advan… So, to these fair old tunes of Fr…
I went to the mill, but the miller… I sat me down, and cried ochone! To think on the days that are past… Of Dickie Macphalion that’s slain… Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
Down by yon garden green, Sae merrily as she gaes; She has twa weel-made feet, And she trips upon her taes. She has twa weel-made feet;
There are laddies will drive ye a… To the burn frae the farthermost t… But ye mauna think driving is a’, Ye may heel her, and send her ajee… Ye may land in the sand or the sea…
O have ye na heard o the fause Sa… O have ye na heard o the keen Lor… How they hae taen bauld Kinmont W… On Hairibee to hang him up? Had Willie had but twenty men,
The soft wind from the south land… He set his strength to blow, From forests where Adonis bled, And lily flowers a-row: He crossed the straits like stream…