Poems and SongsBell and Daldy, 1858 - 272 strán (strany) |
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AE FOND KISS ae night ain dear amang ance auld auld lang syne baith Ballochmyle banks bird BIRKET FOSTER birks Birks of Aberfeldy blast blaw blest blink blithe bloom bonnie lass bosom braes braw breast cauld charms COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT Cutty-sark de'il dearie dewy e'en e'er Ev'n Evans fair Farewell fate flowers frae gi'e glen gude ha'e HALLOWE'EN hame HARRISON WEIR heart Heaven Highland hour ilka lassie lo'es Lord Lord Gregory luve Maggie Mary maun meikle mony morning MOUNTAIN DAISY mourn nae mair ne'er never Nith o'er out-owre owre Phillis pleasure poor pow'rs pride roar round rove Scotia's SHANTER sing snaw sparklin sweet sweetly Syne TAM O'SHANTER thee thegither There's thine thro TUNE TWA DOGS unco wander wastrie weary wee thing weel Whare Whyles wild Willie wind winter wooing o't wretched
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Strana 4 - pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to HEAVEN'S ETERNAL KING, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days : There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise,
Strana 254 - Then let us pray that come it may— As come it will for a' that— That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree and a' that; For a' that, and a' that, It's comin' yet for a' that, That man to man, the world o'er,
Strana 161 - Yet blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And monie a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Strana 253 - Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that? The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, What tho
Strana 2 - What mak's the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave : Weel pleased to think her bairn's respectit like the lave. O happy love ! where love like this is found ! O heartfelt raptures ! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare— "If Heav'na draught of heavenly
Strana 104 - wakes, And fondly broods with miser care! Time but the impression deeper makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy blissful place of rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ! I
Strana 180 - Caledonian Hunt's Delight." YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care ! Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons through the flowering thorn Thou minds me o
Strana 21 - S a sma' request : I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, And never miss't. Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin '. Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! An' naething now to big a new ane O' foggage green ! An' bleak December's winds ensuin', Thou saw the fields laid bare
Strana 157 - saw: Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, 1 sigh'd, and said amang them a', " Ye are na Mary Morison." O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die 1 Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Strana 79 - claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son take heed : Whene'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys owre dear, Remember Tam o