#ScottishWriters
STILL anxious to secure your par… And not less anxious, sure, this n… A Prologue, Epilogue, or some suc… 'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if… So sought a poet, roosted near the…
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…
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…
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…
Is there for honesty poverty That hings his head, an’ a’ that; The coward slave - we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
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,
I GAT your letter, winsome Willi… Wi’ gratefu’ heart I thank you br… Tho’ I maun say’t, I wad be silly… And unco vain, Should I believe, my coaxin billi…
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,
KNOW thou, O stranger to the fam… Of this much lov’d, much honoured… (For none that knew him need be to… A warmer heart death ne’er made co…
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macn… She’s down in the yard, she’s kiss… She winna come hame to her ain Jo… O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M…
Ye banks, and braes, and streams a… The castle o’ Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your… Your waters never drumlie! There Simmer first unfald her rob…
Go fetch to me a pint o wine, And fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonie lassie: The boat rocks at the Pier o’ Lei…
KILMARNOCK wabsters, fidge an… An’ pour your creeshie nations; An’ ye wha leather rax an’ draw, Of a’ denominations; Swith to the Ligh Kirk, ane an’ a…
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,
MY blessin’s upon thy sweet wee l… My blessin’s upon thy e’e-brie! Thy smiles are sae like my blythe… Thou’s aye the dearer, and dearer… But I’ll big a bow’r on yon bonie…