WHERE hae ye been sae braw, lad? Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O? Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad? Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O? Chorus.-An ye had been whare I hae been,
Chorus.-An’ O my Eppie, my jewel, my Eppie, Wha wad na be happy wi’ Eppie Adair? BY love, and by beauty, by law, and by duty, I swear to be true to my Eppie
YE flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings
MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passion, Poor is all that princely pride. Mark yonder, &c. (four lines repeated). What are the showy treasures,
O THOU, the first, the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever been Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav’d their heads Beneath Thy forming hand,
FY, let us a’ to Kirkcudbright, For there will be bickerin’ there; For Murray’s light horse are to muster, And O how the heroes will swear! And there will be Murray, Commander, And Gordon,
May-, 1786.I LANG hae thought, my youthfu’ friend, A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento: But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in
DEAR Myra, the captive ribband’s mine, ‘Twas all my faithful love could gain; And would you ask me to resign The sole reward that crowns my pain? Go, bid the hero who has run
WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things, The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
WHY, ye tenants of the lake, For me your wat’ry haunt forsake? Tell me, fellow-creatures, why At my presence thus you fly? Why disturb your social joys, Parent, filial, kindred ties?- Common friend to
THE LAST time I came o’er the moor, And left Maria’s dwelling, What throes, what tortures passing cure, Were in my bosom swelling: Condemn’d to see my rival’s reign, While I in secret languish;
I DREAM’D I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singing, By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro’ the woods
Chorus-Fairest maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou wert wont to do? FULL well thou know’st I love thee dear, Couldst thou to
SIR, Yours this moment I unseal, And faith I’m gay and hearty! To tell the truth and shame the deil, I am as fou as Bartie: But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal, Expect me