The works of Robert Burns; with an account of his life, and a criticism on his writings, Volume 4 (Google eBook)

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Page 216 - FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. 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, The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho
Page 343 - bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will love 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: I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve
Page 293 - see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o
Page 123 - We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae mornin sun till dine:. But seas between us braid hae roar'd, Sin auld lang syne. For auld, kc. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine ; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang sine. For auld,
Page 342 - E. 343 A RED RED ROSE. O MY luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my luve's like the melodic That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will
Page 343 - O my luve's like the melodic That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
Page 41 - March, 1793. MARY MORISON. Tune—" BIDE YE YET." O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.' Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blythly wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun ; Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison.
Page 109 - Now's the day and now's the hour: See the front o' battle lour: See approach proud Edward's powerChains and slavery ! Wha will be a traitor-knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? \Vha sae base as be a slave ? Let him turn and flee
Page 297 - It is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But by my sooth she'll wait a wee ! We are nafou, 8cc. Wha first shall rise to gang awa', A cuckold, coward loun is he!. Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
Page 302 - 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

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