O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn-side Where I and my Love wont to gae! I leant my back unto an aik,
It takes strength to be firm, it t… It takes strength to conquer, it t… It takes strength to be certain, i… It takes strength to fit in, it ta… It takes strength to feel a friend…
The king sits in Dumferling toune… Drinking the blude-reid wine: “O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine?” Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Said Santa Claus One winter’s night, ‘I really think it’s only right That gifts should have a little sa… ‘Bout where they’ll be on Chris…
HIERUSALEM, my happy home, When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall I see? O happy harbour of the Saints!
I eat my peas with honey; I’ve done it all my life. It makes the peas taste funny, But it keeps them on the knife.
YE Highlands and ye Lawlands, O where hae ye been? They hae slain the Earl of Murray… And hae laid him on the green. Now wae be to thee, Huntley!
Nerve thy soul with doctrines nobl… Noble in the walks of time, Time that leads to an eternal, An eternal life sublime. Life sublime in moral beauty,
Jhesu Cryste, yn Trynyté, Oonly God and persons thre, Graunt us wele to spede, And gyf us grace so to do That we may come thy blys unto,
She sat down below a thorn, Fine flowers in the valley; And there she has her sweet babe b… And the green leaves they grow rar… ‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonnie bab…
O Burr, O Burr, what hast though… Thou hast shooted dead great Hami… You hid behind a bunch of thistle, And shooted him dead with a great… Caption on a wax tableau of Vice…
Rain on the green grass, And rain on the tree, And rain on the house top, But not on me!
My friend iudge not me, Thou seest I iudge not thee: Betwixt the stirrop and the ground… Mercy I askt, mercy I found.
I SAW my Lady weep, And Sorrow proud to be advanced s… In those fair eyes where all perfe… Her face was full of woe; But such a woe (believe me) as win…
BYTUENE Mershe ant Averil When spray biginneth to spring, The lutel foul hath hire wyl On hyre lud to synge: Ich libbe in love-longinge