The works of Robert Burns; with an account of his life, and a criticism on his writings

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1800
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Page 109 - 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 strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa', Let him follow me!
Page 302 - 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.
Page 18 - Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender ; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder ; But, Oh ! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early ! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary...
Page 216 - 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
Page 41 - A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison! Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed thro...
Page 302 - MY JO. JOHN Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie 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...
Page 123 - AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min' ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne ? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.
Page 345 - As fair art thou, my bonnie 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...
Page 334 - Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.
Page 307 - Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o' young men; They flatter, she says, to deceive me; But wha can think sae o

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