#Scots #XVIIICentury
1 Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, 2 Ca’ them where the heather g… 3 Ca’ them where the burnie ro… 4 My bonie dearie. 5 Hark! the mavis’ evening san…
I Hae a wife o’ my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll tak Cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie Cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend,
Here lies a mock Marquis, whose t… If ever he rise, it will be to be…
TRUE hearted was he, the sad swa… And fair are the maids on the bank… But by the sweet side o’ the Nith… Are lovers as faithful, and maiden… To equal young JESSIE seek Sco…
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,
LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands… He aften did assist ye; For had ye staid hale weeks awa, Your wives they ne’er had miss’d y… Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye pre…
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…
Now simmer blinks on flow’ry braes… And o’er the crystal streamlet pla… Come, let us spend the lightsome d… In the birks of Aberfeldie! Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
Inscribed to Robert Aiken, Esq. Let not Ambition mock their usefu… Their homely joys and destiny obsc… Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainf… The short and simple annals of the…
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad! Whare hae ye been sae brankie O? Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad? Cam ye by Killiecrankie O? An ye had been whare I hae been,
THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concer… I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne’er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae,
THOU of an independent mind, With soul resolv’d, with soul resi… Prepar’d Power’s proudest frown t… Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; Virtue alone who dost revere,
Sweet fa’s the eve on Craigieburn… And blythe awakens the morrow, But a’ the pride o’ spring’s retur… Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading tr…
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…
LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s… His chicken heart so tender; But build a castle on his head, His scull will prop it under.