383. Song-My Wife's a winsome wee thing
Chorus.-She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo’esome wee thing, This dear wee wife o’ mine. I NEVER saw a fairer, I never lo’ed a dearer,
434. Song-Thou hast left me ever, jamie
THOU hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me ever; Thou has left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me ever: Aften hast thou vow’d that Death Only should us sever; Now thou’st
227. Verses on Friars' Carse Hermitage (First Version)
THOU whom chance may hither lead, Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou deckt in silken stole, Grave these maxims on thy soul. Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,
456. Epitaph on Captain Lascelles
WHEN Lascelles thought fit from this world to depart, Some friends warmly thought of embalming his heart; A bystander whispers-“Pray don’t make so much o’t, The subject is poison, no reptile will touch it.”
215. Song-Hey, the Dusty Miller
HEY, the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour, Dusty was the kiss That I gat frae
72. Song-Young Peggy Blooms
YOUNG Peggy blooms our boniest lass, Her blush is like the morning, The rosy dawn, the springing grass, With early gems adorning. Her eyes outshine the radiant beams That gild the passing shower, And
145. Song-Yon Wild Mossy Mountains
YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide, That nurse in their bosom the youth o’ the Clyde, Where the grouse lead their coveys thro’ the heather to feed, And the shepherd tends his
101. Song-Composed in Spring
AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues: Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep’d in morning dews. Chorus.-And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn
58. Epitaph on Holy Willie
HERE Holy Willie’s sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta’en some other way, I fear, the left-hand road. Stop! there he is, as sure’s a gun, Poor, silly body,
281. Sonnet to R. Graham, Esq., on Receiving a Favour
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains, A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns: Friend of my life! my ardent spirit burns, And all the tribute of my heart returns, For
122. The Lass o' Ballochmyle
‘TWAS even-the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang; The zephyr wanton’d round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang: In ev’ry glen the mavis sang, All nature list’ning seem’d
435. Song-Where are the Joys I have met
WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning, That danc’d to the lark’s early song? Where is the peace that awaited my wand’ring, At evening the wild-woods among? No more a winding
158. Song-The Bonie Moor-hen
THE HEATHER was blooming, the meadows were mawn, Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, O’er moors and o’er mosses and mony a glen, At length they discover’d a bonie moor-hen. Chorus.-I
429. Song-Come let me take thee to my breast
COME, let me take thee to my breast, And pledge we ne’er shall sunder; And I shall spurn as vilest dust The world’s wealth and grandeur: And do I hear my Jeanie own That
388. Extempore on some commemorations of Thomson
DOST thou not rise, indignant shade, And smile wi’ spurning scorn, When they wha wad hae starved thy life, Thy senseless turf adorn? Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae, Wi’ meikle honest toil, And