Select Scottish Ballads ...

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John Pinkerton
J. Nichols, 1783 - Ballads, Scots
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Page 127 - Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone ; My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.
Page 127 - I'll never love thee more. As Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone : My thoughts did evermore disdain A rival on my throne. He either fears his fate too...
Page 61 - Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy that luve of mine, Gude faith, I freely bought A wedding sark of holland fine, Wi...
Page 63 - Tull Edenburrow they led him thair, And on a gallows hung : They hung him high aboon the rest, He was sae trim a boy ; Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best, My handsome Gilderoy.
Page xxxix - Dream, as quoted in the second Dissertation, prefixed by Mr Pinkerton to his Select Scottish Ballads, 2 vols. The dreamer journeys towards heaven, accompanied and assisted by a celestial guide : Through dreadful dens, which made my heart aghast, He bare me up when I began to tire. Sometimes we clamb o'er craggy mountains high, And sometimes stay'd on ugly braes of sand ; They were so stay that wonder was to see : But, when I fear'd, he held me by the hand.
Page xxiii - ... ghastly appearance of such a landscape by the light of the moon — objects like these diffuse a gloom over the fancy...
Page 114 - While our bottle drowns our care. Fa, la, ra, &c. Wine will make us red as rofes, And our forrows quite forget : Come let us fuddle all our nofes, Drink ourfelves quite out of debt. Fa, la, ra, &c. When grim death is looking for us, We are toping at our bowls, Bacchus joining in the chorus : Death, be gone, here's none but fouls.
Page 75 - And every ane togidder call, To God to be our gyd : For als lang leivis the mirry man, As dois the wrech, for ocht he can ; Quhen deid him ftreks, he wait nocht quhan, And chairgis him to byd.
Page 131 - Came wading, barefoot, a' her lane : My heart grew light, I ran, I flang My arms about her lily neck, And kiss'd and clapp'd her there fu' lang ; My words they were na mony feck.
Page 145 - Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor?" But neer a word wad ane o them speak, For barring of the door.

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