#ScottishWriters
HERE awa, there awa, wandering W… Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame… Come to my bosom, my ain only dear… Tell me thou bring’st me my Willi… Winter winds blew loud and cauld a…
Talk not of love, it gives me pain… For love has been my foe; He bound me in an iron chain, And plung’d me deep in woe. But friendship’s pure and lasting…
BEHOLD the hour, the boat arriv… 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…
THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,
ALTHO’ my back be at the wa’, And tho’ he be the fautor; Altho’ my back be at the wa’, Yet, here’s his health in water. O wae gae by his wanton sides,
HER flowing locks, the raven’s wi… Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to clin… And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew,
AGAIN the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho’ scarce in maiden pri… Are so much nearer Heaven. No gifts have I from Indian coast…
THERE’S Death in the cup, so be… Nay, more’there is danger in tou… But who can avoid the fell snare, The man and his wine’s so bewitchi…
FROM those drear solitudes and f… Where Infamy with sad Repentance… Where turnkeys make the jealous po… And deal from iron hands the spare… Where truant 'prentices, yet young…
WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless… First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d… He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! 'twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly ey…
In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are p… And proper young lasses and a’, ma… But ken ye the Ronalds that live… They carry the gree frae them a’,… Their father’s laird, and weel he…
O WHY the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder? I’m twenty-three, and five feet ni… I’ll go and be a sodger! I gat some gear wi’ mickle care,
Scots, what 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;
FATE gave the word, the arrow sp… And pierc’d my darling’s heart; And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. By cruel hands the sapling drops,
HOW can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego’ He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove,
