#ScottishWriters
CLARINDA, mistres of my soul, The measur’d time is run! The wretch beneath the dreary pole So marks his latest sun. To what dark cave of frozen night
O saw ye bonie Lesley As she gaed o’er the Border? She 's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her,
WHAT dost thou in that mansion f… Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind. ———No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,
Inhuman man! curse on thy barb’rou… And blasted by thy murder—aiming e… May never pity soothe thee with a… Nor never pleasure glad thy cruel… Go live, poor wanderer of the wood…
Nae gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae fa… Shall ever be my muse’s care; Their titles a’ are empty show; Gie me my Highland Lassie, O. Within the glen sae bushy, O,
WHEN Guilford good our pilot sto… An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
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…
Chorus.'Bonie wee thing, cannie… Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. WISHFULLY I look and languish
Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…
THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme… Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddes… That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and s…
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…
'TWAS in the seventeen hunder ye… O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth…
Let other poets raise a fracas Bout vines, and wines, an drucken… An crabbit names an stories wrack… An grate our lug: I sing the juice Scotch bear can…
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…