#ScottishWriters
THIS day, Time winds th’ exhaust… To run the twelvemonth’s length ag… I see, the old bald-pated fellow, With ardent eyes, complexion sallo… Adjust the unimpair’d machine,
MY father was a farmer upon the C… And carefully he bred me in decenc… He bade me act a manly part, thoug… For without an honest manly heart,… Then out into the world my course…
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…
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…
Humid seal of soft affections, Tend’rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love’s first snow—drop, virgin kis… Speaking silence, dumb confession,
O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… Tho’ father an’ mother an’ a’ shou… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… But warily tent when ye come to co…
THE KING’S most humble servant… Can scarcely spare a minute; But I’ll be wi’ you by an’ by; Or else the Deil’s be in it.
SHE’S fair and fause that causes… I lo’ed her meikle and lang; She’s broken her vow, she’s broken… And I may e’en gae hang. A coof cam in wi’ routh o’ gear,
Chorus.'She is a winsome wee th… She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo’esome wee thing, This dear wee wife o’ mine. I NEVER saw a fairer,
WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo, weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey l… On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus
CEASE, ye prudes, your envious r… Lovely Burns has charms’confess… True it is, she had one failing, Had a woman ever less?
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,
Here Holy Willie’s sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta’en some other way, I fear, the left—hand road. Stop! there he is, as sur’s a gun,
Nae lark in transport mounts the s… Or leaves wi’ early plaintive cry, But I will bid a last good—bye, My last farewell to Stirling O. Chorus: