The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Հատոր 2 |
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Amang auld banks bear bonie bosom braes Burns wrote charms CHORUS comes dear dearie death epigram fair Farewell fate fell flower frae give glen green grows hame hand happy head hear heart Highland hill hour I'll Jamie John kind King kiss land lass lassie leave light live look Lord mair Mary maun meet mind Miss monie morning ne'er never night o'er owre peace pleasure poor pride roar rose round sing song spring stream sweet tear tell thee There's thing Thomson thou thought thro true TUNE verses wander weary weel wife wild Willie wind written ye'll young
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Էջ 206 - Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that ! What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man, for a
Էջ 207 - He looks and laughs at a' that. A prince can mak' a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith, he mauna fa' that! For a
Էջ 135 - JOHN ANDERSON MY JO John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Էջ 202 - The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu...
Էջ 135 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony 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.
Էջ 130 - And mony a hill between ; But, day and night, my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Էջ 204 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will...