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Walter Scott, 1886 - 266 стор.

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Сторінка 15 - I'm sae happy, I shall have delight To hear their little plaints, and keep them right. Wow ! Jenny, can there greater pleasure be, Than see sic wee tots toolying at your knee ; When a' they ettle at — their greatest wish, Is to be.
Сторінка 16 - May sic ill luck befa' that silly she Wha has sic fears, for that was never me ! Let fowk bode weel, and strive to do their best ; Nae mair's required, — let Heaven make out the rest. I've heard my honest uncle aften say That lads should a...
Сторінка 9 - I careless cried, and lap in o'er the dyke. I trow, when that she saw, within a crack, She cam wi' a right thieveless errand back ; Misca'd me first, then bade me hound my dog, To wear up three waff ewes stray'd on the bog. I leugh, and sae did she ; then wi...
Сторінка 101 - THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL.(i) THE lass of Patie's mill, So bonny, blyth, and gay, In spite of all my skill, She stole my heart away. When tedding of the hay, Bare-headed on the green, Love 'midst her locks did play, And wanton'd in her een. Her arms white, round, and smooth, Breasts rising in their dawn, To age it would give youth To press 'em with his hand : Thro' all my spirits ran An extasy of bliss, When I such sweetness fand Wrapt in a balmy kiss.
Сторінка 11 - Where a' the sweets o' spring an' simmer grow : Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin, The water fa's an' maks a singan din : A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses, wi' easy whirls, the bord'ring grass.
Сторінка 114 - At wauking of the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly Whene'er I whisper love, That I look down on a
Сторінка 102 - She smiles like a May morning, When Phoebus starts frae Thetis' lap, The hills with rays adorning : White is her neck, saft is her hand, Her waist and feet's fu' genty ; With ilka grace she can command ; Her lips, O wow ! they're dainty.
Сторінка 112 - Speak well, and do better; for that's the best gate To win a young widow, my laddie. The widow she's youthfu', and never...
Сторінка 26 - What fouk say o' me, Bauldy, let me hear ; Keep naething up, ye naething hae to fear. Bauldy. Weel, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a' That ilk ane tauks about ye, but a flaw. When last the wind made Glaud a roofless barn ; When last the burn bore down my mither's yarn ; When Brawny elf-shot never mair came hame ; When Tibby kirn'd an' there nae butter came ; When Bessy Freetock's chuffy-cheeked wean To a fairy turn'd, and cou'dna stand its lane ; When Wattie wander'd ae night thro...

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