#Scots #XVIIICentury
Air—“Deil tak the wars.” Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passio… Poor is all that princely pride.
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,
Here lies John Bushby—honest man, Cheat him, Devil—if you can!
Chorus.'MY lady’s gown, there’s… And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t… But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone,
FOR thee is laughing Nature gay, For thee she pours the vernal day; For me in vain is Nature drest, While Joy’s a stranger to my brea…
A Guide New—year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe—backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…
HERE’S to thy health, my bonie l… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee. O dinna think, my pretty pink,
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flower and spreading tre… There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver. Oh I had wooers aught or nine,
When Januar’ wind was blawing cau… As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na whare to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met,
The Author’s Only Pet Yowe An Unco Mournfu’ Tale As Mailie, an’ her lambs thegithe… Was ae day nibbling on the tether, Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,
WHILE new-ca’d kye rowte at the… An’ pownies reek in pleugh or brai… This hour on e’enin’s edge I take… To own I’m debtor To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik,
NOW Nature hangs her mantle gree… On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o’ daisies… Out o’er the grassy lea; Now Phoebus cheers the crystal st…
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…
LET not Woman e’er complain Of inconstancy in love; Let not Woman e’er complain Fickle Man is apt to rove: Look abroad thro’ Nature’s range,
Ye gallants bright, I red ye righ… Beware o’ bonnie Ann; Her comely face sae fu’ o’ grace, Your heart she will trepan. Her een sae bright, like stars by…