#ScottishWriters
YE sons of old Killie, assembled… To follow the noble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce… To sit in that honoured station. I’ve little to say, but only to pr…
BEHIND yon hills where Lugar fl… 'Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, And I’ll awa to Nanie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud an’ sh…
WILL ye go to the Hielands, Lee… Will ye go to the Hielands wi’ me… Will ye go to the Hielands, Leezi… My pride and my darling to be.
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,
HEALTH to the Maxwell’s vetera… Health, aye unsour’d by care or gr… Inspir’d, I turn’d Fate’s sibyl l… This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o’ prief,
SHREWD Willie Smellie to Croch… The old cock’d hat, the grey surto… His bristling beard just rising in… 'Twas four long nights and days to… His uncomb’d grizzly locks, wild s…
BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie’s b… O Death, it’s my opinion, Thou ne’er took such a bleth’rin b… Into thy dark dominion!
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…
THE LAMP of day, with-ill presa… Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the west… Th’ inconstant blast howl’d thro’… And hollow whistled in the rocky c… Lone as I wander’d by each cliff…
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 THOU Great Being! what Thou… Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. Thy creature here before Thee sta…
WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye
Is there for honest poverty That hangs 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,
IT was a’ for our rightfu’ King We left fair Scotland’s strand; It was a’ for our rightfu’ King We e’er saw Irish land, My dear—
Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish nam… Sae famed in martial story! Now Sark rins over Solway sands,