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By Ochtertyre grows the aik
By yon castle wa', at the close of the day
Can I cease to care
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west
Cauld is the e'enin' blast ...,
Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing
Clarinda, mistress of my soul
Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er
Come, let me take thee to my breast
Coming through the rye, poor body
little, and cantie wi' mair
Could aught of song declare my pains
Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life
Dear — I'll gie ye some advice
Deluded swain, the pleasure
Dire was the hate at old Harlaw
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ?
Duncan Gray came here to woo
Earth'd up here lies an impo' hell
Fair maid, you need not take the hint
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame
Farewell, dear Friend ! may guid luck hit you
Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains
Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye
Farewell, thou stream that winding flows
Farewell, ye dangeons dark and strong.
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped
Fill me with the rosy wine
Fintray, my stay in worldly strife
First when Maggy was my care
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near
Frae the friends and land I love
From thee, Eliza, I must go
From those drear solitudes and frowzy cells
Friday first's the day appointed
Full well thou know'st I love thee dear
Fy, let us a' to Kircudbright
Gane is the day, and mirk's the night
Gat ye me, O gat ye me.
Go fetch to me a pint o'wine
Grant me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live ,
Gudeen to you, Kimmer .
Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore
Had I the wyte, had I the wyte
Hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' Willie!
Hark! the mavis' evening sang
He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist.
He who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead
Hee balou! my sweet wee Donald
He looked Just as your Sign-post lions do
Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad
Her flowing locks, the raven's wing.
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie.
Here Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct.
Here comes Burns .
Here is the glen, and here the bower
Here lie Willie Michie's banes
Here lies a mock Marquis whose titles were shamm'd .
Here lies a rose, a budding rose
Here lies John Bushby, honest man !
Here lies Johnny Pidgeon
Here sowter Hood in Death does sleep.
Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd
Here's a bottle and an honest friend !
Here's a health to them that's awa
Here's to thy health, my bonie lass
Hey, the dusty miller.
His face with smile eternal drest
Honest Will to heaven is gane
How can my poor heart be glad
How cruel are the parents
How daur ye ca me howlet-faced.
How lang and dreary is the night.
How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon
How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace
Husband, husband, cease your strife.
1 am a keeper of the law .
I am my mammie's ae bairn
'I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn
I coft a stane o haslock woo'
I do confess thou art sae fair
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
1 gaed a waefu' gate yestreen
I gaed up to Dunse
I had sax owsen in a pleugh
I hae a wife o'my ain .
I married with a scolding wife :
I met a lass, a bonie lass
I murder hate by field or flood .
If thou should ask my love
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap
If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue
Ilk care and fear, when thou art near
I'll ay ca' in by yon town
In coming by the brig o' Dye
In Mauchline there dwells six proper young Belles .
In politics if thou wouldst mix
In simmer when the hay was mawn
In this strange land, this uncouth clime.
In Torbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men .
In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer
In wood and wild, ye warbling throng
Instead of a Song, boys, I'll give you a Toast
Is there a whim-inspired fool
Is there, for honest poverty.
It is na, Jean, thy bonie face
It was a' for our rightfu’ King .
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral
It was the charming month of May
It was upon a Lammas night
Jenny M'Craw, she has ta’en to the heather
Jockey's ta’en the parting kiss .
John Anderson my jo, John
Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief
Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose ?
Know thou, O stranger to the fame
Lament him, Mauchline husbands a'.
Landlady, count the lawin
Lass, when your mither is frae hame.
Last May a braw wooer came down the lang glen
Let not woman e'er complain
Let other heroes boast their scars
Light lay the earth on Billy's breast
Like Esop's lion, Burns says, sore I feel
Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours
Lord, to account who dares Thee call
Lord, we thank an' Thee adore
Loud blaw the frosty breezes
Louis, what reck I by thee
Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
Maxwell, if merit here you crave .
Musing on the roaring ocean
My blessings on ye, honest wife
My bottle is my holy pool
My Chloris, mark how green the groves.
My Father was a Farmer upon the Carrick border, O.
My Harry was a gallant gay
My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie
My heart is sair, I dare na tell.
My heart is wae, and unco wae
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here
o could I give thee Yndings
No Stewart art thou, Galloway
Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green
Now health forsakes that angel face
Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays
Now Kennedy, if foot or horse
Now nature cleeds the flowery lea
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes
Now spring has clad the groves in green
Now westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns
O bonie was yon rosy brier
O cam ye here the fight to shun
can ye labour lea,
O Death, hadst thou but spar'd his life
Ogie my love brose, brose
O Goudíe ! terror o' the Whigs
O how can I be blithe and glad
O how shall I, unskilfu', try
O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten.
O Kenmure's on and awa', Willie!
O, Lady Mary Ann
O Lassie, art thou sleeping yet?
O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles
O leeze me on my spinnin wheel
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide
O Lord, when hunger pinches sore
O luve will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen
O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet
O Mary, at thy window be
O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
O meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty
O merry hae I been teethin' a heckle
O were my love yon lilac fair
O, wert thou in the cauld blast
wha is she that lo'es me
O wha my babie-clouts will buy?
O wha will to Saint Stephen's house
O, whar did ye get that hauyer meal bannock?
O whare live ye, my bonie lass
O whistle, and i'll come to you, my lad.
O why the deuce should I repine .
0, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut
O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Oye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains
Of a the airts the wind can blaw
Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace
Oh! had each Scot of ancient times
Oh! I am come to the low countrie
Oh, open the door, some pity to shew
On'a bank of flowers, in a summer day
On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells
One night as I did wander
One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell
On peace and rest my mind was bent
Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair
Out over the Forth I look to the north