#ScottishWriters
A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink, A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink, A’ ye wha live and never think, Come, mourn wi’ me! Our billie 's gien us a’ a jink,
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.
BEHOLD, my love, how green the… The primrose banks how fair; The balmy gales awake the flowers, And wave thy flowing hair. The lav’rock shuns the palace gay,
Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, Wi’ saut tears tricklin down your… Our bardie’s fate is at a close, Past a’ remead! The last, sad cape-stane o’ his wo…
ALTHO’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie; Yet happy, happy would I be, Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg… When o’er the hill beat surly stor…
THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme… Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddes… That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and s…
Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble blui… Because ye’re surnam’d like His G…
Upon that night, when fairies ligh… On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz… On sprightly coursers prance; Or for Colean the route is ta’en,
My love, she’s but a lassie yet, My love, she’s but a lassie yet! We’ll let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae saucy yet! I rue the day I sought her, O!
I dream’d I lay where flowers wer… Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singin… By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and da…
I GAT your letter, winsome Willi… Wi’ gratefu’ heart I thank you br… Tho’ I maun say’t, I wad be silly… And unco vain, Should I believe, my coaxin billi…
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…
HOW cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter
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…
EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’… Planted by Satan’s dibble; Poor silly wretch, he’s damned him… To save the Lord the trouble.