#ScottishWriters
Wee, sleeket, cowrin, tim’rous bea… Oh, what a panic’s in thy breastie… Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase th…
I’M now arrived’thanks to the g… Thro’ pathways rough and muddy, A certain sign that makin roads Is no this people’s study: Altho’ Im not wi’ Scripture cram’…
Thou lingering star, with less’nin… That lov’st to greet the early mor… Again thou usherast in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary, dear departed shade
O GOWDIE, terror o’ the whigs, Dread o’ blackcoats and rev’rend w… Sour Bigotry, on her last legs, Girns an’ looks back, Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues
HOW can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego’ He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove,
O COULD I give thee India’s we… As I this trifle send; Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. But golden sands did never grace
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll… Warring sighs and groans I’ll wag… Who shall say that Fortune grieve…
O Thou! whatever title suit thee— Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clo… Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie, Clos’d under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cooti…
There was three kings unto the eas… Three kings both great and high, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They took a plough and plough’d hi…
THAT there is a falsehood in his… I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave… And sure they do not lie.
It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light… I held away to Annie: The time flew by wi’ tentless heed
O, once I lov’d a bonnie lass, Aye, and I love her still; And whilst that virtue warms my br… I’ll love my handsome Nell. As bonnie lasses I hae seen,
IN wood and wild, ye warbling thr… Your heavy loss deplore; Now, half extinct your powers of s… Sweet Echo is no more. Ye jarring, screeching things arou…
LORD, we thank, and thee adore, For temporal gifts we little merit… At present we will ask no more’ Let William Hislop give the spiri…
“PRAISE Woman still,” his lords… “Deserv’d or not, no matter?” But thee, whom all my soul adores, Ev’n Flattery cannot flatter: Maria, all my thought and dream,