#Scots #XVIIICentury
YE flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonni…
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…
Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour:
Lassie wi’ the lintwhite locks, Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks, An wilt thou be my Dearie O. Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea…
Coming thro’ the rye, poor body, Coming thro’ the rye, She draiglet a’ her petticoatie Coming thro’ the rye. O, Jenny’s a’ wat, poor body;
Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy looks wave in the breeze… All freshly steep’d in morning dew… And maun I still on Menie doat,
My Son, these maxims make a rule, An’ lump them aye thegither; The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither: The cleanest corn that ere was dig…
THOU, who thy honour as thy God… Who, save thy mind’s reproach, nou… To thee this votive offering I im… The tearful tribute of a broken he… The Friend thou valued’st, I, the…
Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dea… Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dea… Thou art sweet as the smile when f… And soft as their parting tear– J… Although thou maun never be mine,
O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour… Those smiles and glances let me se… That makes the miser’s treasure po… How blythely wad I bide the stour…
REVERED defender of beauteous… Of Stuart, a name once respected; A name, which to love was the mark… But now 'tis despis’d and neglecte… Tho’ something like moisture congl…
Whoe’er thou art, O reader, know, That Death has murder’d Johnie; An’ here his body lies fu’ low - For saul he ne’er had ony.
When chapman billies leave the str… And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market—days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
ONE night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld tree root; Auld Ayr ran by before me,
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…
