#ScottishWriters
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… She’s down in the yard, she’s kiss… She winna come hame to her ain Jo… O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M…
OF Lordly acquaintance you boast, And the Dukes that you dined wi’… Yet an insect’s an insect at most, Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Qu…
Oh wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter the… Or did misfortune’s bitter storms
ITHERS seek they ken na what, Features, carriage, and a’ that; Gie me love in her I court, Love to love maks a’ the sport. Let love sparkle in her e’e;
O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly? O saw ye my Dear, my Philly, She’s down i’ the grove, she’s wi’… She winna come hame to her Willy. What says she my dear, my Philly?
CA’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. Hark! the mavis’ evening sang
HERE Brewer Gabriel’s fire’s ex… And empty all his barrels: He’s blest’if, as he brew’d, he… In upright, honest morals.
INSTEAD of a Song, boy’s, I’ll… Here’s to the memory of those on t… That we lost, did I say?'nay, b… For their fame it will last while… The next in succession I’ll give…
I HAE a wife of my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll take Cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie Cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend,
YON wandering rill that marks the… And glances o’er the brae, Sir, Slides by a bower, where mony a fl… Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir; There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay,
1 Upon a simmer Sunday morn, 2 When Nature’s face is fai… 3 I walked forth to view the cor… 4 An’ snuff the caller air. 5 The risin’ sun owre Galston m…
AMONG the heathy hills and ragge… The roaring Fyers pours his mossy… Till full he dashes on the rocky m… Where, thro’ a shapeless breach, h… As high in air the bursting torren…
STILL anxious to secure your par… And not less anxious, sure, this n… A Prologue, Epilogue, or some suc… 'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if… So sought a poet, roosted near the…
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous bea… O, 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…
YOUR News and Review, sir. I’ve read through and through, sir… With little admiring or blaming; The Papers are barren Of home-news or foreign,