Ither laddies may ha’s finer claes, and may be better fed, But nane o’ them a’has sic a bonnie curly heid, O sie a blythe blink in their e’e, As my ain curly fair-hair’d
At on time, in America, many years ago, Large gray wolves wont to wander to and fro; And from the farm yards they carried pigs and calves away, Which they devoured ravenously, without dismay.
‘Twas in the year of 1746, on a fine summer afternoon, When trees and flowers were in full bloom, That widow Riddel sat knitting stockings on a little rustic seat, Which her only son
‘Twas in the year of 1849, and on the 20th of February, Lord Gough met and attacked Shere Sing right manfully. The Sikh Army numbered 40,000 in strength, And showing a front about two
Alas! Sir John Ogilvy is dead, aged eighty-seven, But I hope his soul is now in heaven; For he was a generous-hearted gentleman I am sure, And, in particular, very kind unto the poor.
Twas in the month of October, and in the year of 1899, Which the Boers will remember for a very long time, Because by the British Army they received a crushing blow; And were
King Robert the Bruce’s deadly enemy, John of Lorn, Joined the English with eight hundred Highlanders one morn, All strong, hardy, and active fearless mountaineers, But Bruce’s men attacked them with swords and spears.
Beautiful city of Edinburgh! Where the tourist can drown his sorrow By viewing your monuments and statues fine During the lovely summer-time. I’m sure it will his spirits cheer As Sir Walter Scott’s monument
Alas! now o’er the civilised world there hangs a gloom For brave General Gordon, that was killed in Khartoum, He was a Christian hero, and a soldier of the Cross, And to England his
‘Twas on a Monday morning, and in the year of 1884, That a fire broke out in Bailie Bradford’s store, Which contained bales of jute and large quantities of waste, Which the brave firemen
On the Gilfillan burial day, In the Hill o’ Balgay, It was a most solemn sight to see, Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee, All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan
‘TWAS in the month of December, and in the year l883, That a monster whale came to Dundee, Resolved for a few days to sport and play, And devour the small fishes in the
Alas! England now mourns for her poet that’s gone- The late and the good Lord Tennyson. I hope his soul has fled to heaven above, Where there is everlasting joy and love. He was
Kind Christians, pray list to me, And I’ll relate a sad story, Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age, Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage. Poor girl, she
Ye sons of Germany, your noble Emperor William now is dead. Who oft great armies to battle hath led; He was a man beloved by his subjects all, Because he never tried them to
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