#ScottishWriters
CA’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. Hark! the mavis’ evening sang
My mither sent me tae the moss For to gaither peats and dross. I cowpit the cairt and hanged the… An whistle ow’r the lave o’t. My mither sent me tae the well
Nae lark in transport mounts the s… Or leaves wi’ early plaintive cry, But I will bid a last good—bye, My last farewell to Stirling O. Chorus:
GO fetch to me a pint o’ wine, An’ fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o’ Lei…
O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
‘TWAS on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier. Chorus.’An’ Charlie, he’s my da…
DOES haughty Gaul invasion threa… Then let the louns beware, Sir; There’s wooden walls upon our seas… And volunteers on shore, Sir: The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
The man, in life wherever plac’d, Hath happiness in store, Who walks not in the wicked’s way, Nor learns their guilty lore! Nor from the seat of scornful prid…
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,
NO cold approach, no altered mien… Just what would make suspicion sta… No pause the dire extremes between… He made me blest’and broke my he…
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,
CURSE on ungrateful man, that ca… And yet can starve the author of t… O thou, my elder brother in misfor… By far my elder brother in the Mu… With tears I pity thy unhappy fat…
Sleep’st thou, or wak’st thou, fai… Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy. Now, to the streaming fountain,
Duncan Gray came here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooin o’t! On blythe Yule night when we were… Ha, ha, the wooin o’t! Maggie coost her head fu high,
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.