Also known as 'On An Innkeeper In Tarbolton'
#Scots #XVIIICentury
OF a’ the airts the wind can blaw… I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers…
On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells… Could I describe her shape and mi… Our lasses a’ she far excels—— An she has twa sparkling, rogueish… She’s sweeter than the morning daw…
AS I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dew… Where the howlet mourns in her ivy… And tells the midnight moon her ca… The winds were laid, the air was s…
Is there a whim—inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot fo… Owre blate to seek, owre proud to… Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing doo…
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddi… Willie was a wabster guid Could stown a clue wi onie body. He had a wife was dour and din,
I hae seen the hairst o’ Rettie,… And twa—three aff the throne. I’ve heard o sax and seven weeks The hairsters girn and groan. But wi’ a covie Willie Rae
Blythe hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o’er me: Now nae langer sport and play,
Behold the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, the darling of my hear… Sever’d from thee, can I survive, But Fate has will’d and we must p… I’ll often greet the surging swell…
Chorus.'MY lady’s gown, there’s… And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t… But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone,
THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule m… The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest s… But an auld man shall never daunto… Refrain.—To daunton me, to daunto…
DEAR Myra, the captive ribband’s… ’Twas all my faithful love could g… And would you ask me to resign The sole reward that crowns my pai… Go, bid the hero who has run
O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Ran… The wale o’ cocks for fun an’ drin… There’s mony godly folks are think… Your dreams and tricks Will send you, Korah-like, a-sink…
It was in sweet Senegal that my f… For the lands of Virginia—ginia O… Torn from that lovely shore, and m… And alas! I am weary, weary O! Torn from &c.
O Thou dread Pow’r, who reign’st… I know Thou wilt me hear; When for this scene of peace and l… I make this pray’r sincere. The hoary Sire– the mortal stroke…
WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye
