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!
My friend iudge not me, Thou seest I iudge not thee: Betwixt the stirrop and the ground… Mercy I askt, mercy I found.
A lthough things are not perfect B ecause of trial or pain C ontinue in thanksgiving D o not begin to blame E ven when the times are hard
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, So I drank soda instead. I really felt proud inside, Mom,
Have you ever heard the torrent of… As it curses it’s way to Vitipura… Through rapids vitriolic and catar… To it’s final foul mutterings in…
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,
HEY nonny no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is ‘t not fine to dance and sing When the bells of death do ring? Is ’t not fine to swim in wine,
SAYS Tweed to Till— ‘What gars ye rin sae still?’ Says Till to Tweed— ‘Though ye rin with speed And I rin slaw,
I wish I were where Helen lies; Night and day on me she cries; Oh that I were where Helen lies On fair Kirconnell lea! Curst be the heart that thought th…
Whan bells war rung, an mass was s… A wat a’ man to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret’s w… With mony a sad sigh and groan. “Are ye sleeping, Margret,” he sa…
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,
IN Scarlet town, where I was bor… There was a fair maid dwellin’, Made every youth cry Well-a-way! Her name was Barbara Allen. All in the merry month of May,
AS ye came from the holy land Of Walsinghame, Met you not with my true love By the way as you came? How should I know your true love,
There is a Lady sweet and kind, Was never face so pleased my mind; I did but see her passing by, And yet I love her till I die. Her gesture, motion, and her smile…
O MY deir hert, young Jesus swei… Prepare thy creddil in my spreit, And I sall rock thee in my hert And never mair from thee depart. But I sall praise thee evermoir