#ScottishWriters
My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,
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…
Why, why tell thy lover Bliss he never must enjoy? Why, why undeceive him, And give all his hopes the lie? O why, while fancy, raptur’d slumb…
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…
SING on, sweet thrush, upon the… Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to… See aged Winter, 'mid his surly r… At thy blythe carol, clears his fu… So in lone Poverty’s dominion dre…
[First Setting] Comin thro’ the rye, poor body, Comin thro’ the rye, She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie Comin thro’ the rye.
Clarinda, mistress of my soul, The measur’d time is run! The wretch beneath the dreary pole… So marks his latest sun. To what dark cave of frozen night
O WERE my Love yon lilac fair, Wi’ purple blossoms to the spri… And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn
AN HONEST man here lies at res… As e’er God with his image blest; The friend of man, the friend of t… The friend of age, and guide of yo… Few hearts like his, with virtue w…
GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, tha… To see the miscreants feel the pai… Deal Freedom’s sacred treasures f… Till Slave and Despot be but thin…
An old song improved... Chorus: Carle, an’ the King come, Carle, an’ the King come, Thou shalt dance and I will sing,
Now westlin winds and slaught’ring… Bring autumn’s pleasant weather; And the moorcock springs, on whirr… Amang the blooming heather; Now waving grain, wide o’er the pl…
’Twas in the seventeen hunder year O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth…
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roa… Whom kingdoms on this day should h… An inmate in the casual shed, On transient pity’s bounty fed, Haunted by busy memory’s bitter ta…
