The Poetical Works of Robert Burns: Including Several Pieces Not Inserted in Dr. Currie's Edition; Exhibited Under a New Plan of Arrangement, and Preceded by a Life of the Author, and a Complete Glossary ...

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Сторінка 90 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Сторінка 183 - 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. — ROBERT BURNS. AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? 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...
Сторінка 16 - Tam wi' furious ettle ; But little wist she Maggie's mettle — Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o...
Сторінка 192 - JOHN ANDERSON MY JO John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie 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...
Сторінка 11 - O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! But pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white - then melts for ever; Or like the Borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride: That hour, o...
Сторінка 232 - Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie die ? She may gae to — France for me ! Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Сторінка 15 - And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main; Till first ae caper, syne anither, Tarn tint his reason a' thegither, And roars out: "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" And in an instant all was dark ; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When plundering herds assail their byke; As open pussie's mortal foes, When, pop!
Сторінка 13 - Nae cotillion brent new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o...
Сторінка 181 - O, WERT thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.
Сторінка 12 - Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares: Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd; And past the birks and meikle stane, Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And thro...

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