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ain dear amang ance auld bard Beneath Birks of Aberfeldy blate blaw blest bloom bonnie bonnie Doon bosom braes braw breast BRIG brunstane canna cauld charms Cutty-sark dearest deil e'en e'er fair fate flowers fortune's frae glen green guid hame heart Heaven honest honour horse-leech hour humble ilka ither John Anderson John Barleycorn Laird lasses lassie life's lo'e Lord Gregory Mailie maun mind mony morning mourn muckle muse nae mair Nancy Nature's ne'er neebor never night o'er Out-owre owre pleasure poor posie pride rhyme roar round sang Scotland sing smile song soul stream sugh swearin sweet Syne tear tell tender thee thegither There's thou thought unco wander warlock weary weel Whare Whyles wild winds winter wretch younkers
Page 132 - 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 grey, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a
Page 13 - And sage experience bids me this declare — ' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Page 74 - But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an
Page 142 - As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : And I will luve thee still, my Dear, While the sands o
Page 137 - 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
Page 139 - My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Page 130 - Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the West, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild woods grow, and rivers row, 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...
Page 12 - But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neibor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Wi...
Page 131 - 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.