Old Scotch Songs and PoemsOxford University Press, 1927 - 463 стор. |
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A'll aald airlay Allan Ramsay auld AUTHOR UNKNOWN awld baith bawbee blaw boanay boatie rows bonnie braw broom of Cowdenknows Christkirk dear doon fair fal da ra foak frae gaid gang glen Green that day haim hame heart heer hert hillz hoos hundred pipers Hwair hwaw hwawr Hwun Joak keeng koa hee laddie laird lass lassie leik Lintun Lizzy Lindsay mair moarnin muckul nair ne'er never nikht nivvur Perthshire Perthshire Scotch plaid pretty rikht shee shuid Sir Patrick Spens sweet tay mee thair thay thee There's Thoa thoakht thum thur thut troo uboot ufoar foak upoan usually printed uwaw uway weel weif wull wunnay yung yursel
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Сторінка 270 - And tauld the king o me, To send us out, at this time of the year, To sail upon the sea? " " Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem ; The king's daughter of Noroway, Tis we must fetch her hame.
Сторінка 96 - A chain of gold ye sail not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair ; Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfrey fresh and fair ; And you, the foremost o' them a', Shall ride our forest queen " — But aye she loot the tears down fa
Сторінка 274 - He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in. ' Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, And let na the sea come in.
Сторінка 140 - I've heard them lilting, at our ewe-milking Lasses a' lilting before dawn of day : But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning, The Flowers of the forest are a
Сторінка 108 - Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, Whene'er we meet alane, I wish nae mair to lay my care, — I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld ; But she gars a' my spirits glow, At wauking of the fauld.
Сторінка 276 - A' for the sake of their true loves, For them they'll see nae mair. O lang lang may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand ! And lang lang may the maidens sit, Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves, For them they'll see nae mair.
Сторінка 120 - Dumblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossom, And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green ; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o
Сторінка 290 - O that I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says, 'Haste, and come to me!
Сторінка 258 - Grumlie swore by the light o' the moon. And the green leaves on the tree, That he could do more work in a day Than his wife could do in three. His wife rose up in the morning Wi' cares and troubles enow— John Grumlie, bide at hame, John, And I'll go haud the plow.
Сторінка 168 - Tis beneath the spreading birk, In the glen without the name, Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie, When the kye comes hame. There the blackbird bigs his nest For the mate he loes to see, And on the topmost bough, O, a happy bird is he; Where he pours his melting ditty, And love is a' the theme, And he'll woo his bonny lassie When the kye comes hame.