AS on the banks o’ wandering Nith, Ae smiling simmer morn I stray’d, And traced its bonie howes and haughs, Where linties sang and lammies play’d, I sat me down upon a craig, And
BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardonessp, With grateful, lifted eyes, Who taught that not the soul alone, But body too shall rise; For had He said “the soul alone From death I will deliver,” Alas,
AS I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dewy air, Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. The winds were laid, the
John Anderson, my jo John, When we were first acquent Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is bald, John, Your locks are like the snow;
O KEN ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, An’ ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten? She gotten a coof wi’ a claut o’ siller, And broken the heart o’
Chorus. —O lovely Polly Stewart, O charming Polly Stewart, There’s ne’er a flower that blooms in May, That’s half so fair as thou art! THE FLOWER it blaws, it fades, it fa’s, And art
FAIR the face of orient day, Fair the tints of op’ning rose; But fairer still my Delia dawns, More lovely far her beauty shows. Sweet the lark’s wild warbled lay, Sweet the tinkling rill
LORD ADVOCATEHE clenched his pamphlet in his fist, He quoted and he hinted, Till, in a declamation-mist, His argument he tint it: He gapèd for’t, he grapèd for’t, He fand it was awa, man;
EXPECT na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble bluid, Because ye’re surnam’d like His Grace- Perhaps related to
O LADY Mary Ann looks o’er the Castle wa’, She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba’, The youngest he was the flower amang them a’, My bonie laddie’s young, but he’s growin’
Chorus.-Bonie lassie, will ye go, Will ye go, will ye go, Bonie lassie, will ye go To the birks of Aberfeldy! NOW Simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o’er the crystal streamlets plays; Come
HOW wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite, How Virtue and Vice blend their black and their white, How Genius, th’ illustrious father of fiction, Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction, I sing: If
‘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 darling, My darling, my darling, Charlie, he’s my darling, The young
O HAD the malt thy strength of mind, Or hops the flavour of thy wit, ‘Twere drink for first of human kind, A gift that e’en for Syme were fit. JERUSALEM TAVERN, DUMFRIES.
NAE heathen name shall I prefix, Frae Pindus or Parnassus; Auld Reekie dings them a’ to sticks, For rhyme-inspiring lasses. Jove’s tunefu’ dochters three times three Made Homer deep their debtor; But, gien the
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