#Scots
O that I had ne’er been married, I wad never had nae care, Now I’ve gotten wife an’ weans, An’ they cry “ Crowdie ” evermair… Chorus:
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 hea…
DEAR SIR, at ony time or tide, I’d rather sit wi’ you than ride, Though 'twere wi’ royal Geordie: And trowth, your kindness, soon an… Aft gars me to mysel’ look blate—
Behind yon hills, where Lugar flo… 'Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, And I’ll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and sh…
WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo, weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey l… On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus
If ye gae up to yon hill—tap, Ye’ll there see bonie Peggy; She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth’s a leddy. There Sophy tight, a lassie brigh…
Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the west, For there the bonie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best. There wild woods grow and rivers r…
O ROUGH, rude, ready-witted Ran… The wale o’ cocks for fun an’ drin… There’s mony godly folks are think… Your dreams and tricks Will send you, Korah-like, a-sink…
O stay, sweet warbling wood—lark,… Nor quit for me the trembling spra… A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing fond complaining. Again, again that tender part,
O DEATH, had’st thou but spar’d… Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchanged the wife, And a’ been weel content. Ev’n as he is, cauld in his graff,
DAUGHTER of Chaos’ doting year… Nurse of ten thousand hopes and fe… Whether thy airy, insubstantial sh… (The rights of sepulture now duly… Spread abroad its hideous form
IN Politics if thou would’st mix, And mean thy fortunes be; Bear this in mind, be deaf and bli… Let great folk hear and see.
O COULD I give thee India’s we… As I this trifle send; Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. But golden sands did never grace
Musing on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Wearying heav’n in warm devotion, For his weal where’er he be. Hope and Fear’s alternate billow
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,
