Select Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern, Volume 1

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T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1810
 

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Page 163 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa?
Page 107 - Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring to me my sword ! And there's no a man in all Scotland, But I'll brave him at a word.
Page 68 - And are ye sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he's weel ? Is this a time to think o...
Page 163 - Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee ! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa...
Page 69 - Been fed this month and mair ; Mak haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare ; And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared When he was far awa?
Page 133 - Love wont to gae! 1 leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; But first it bow'd, and syne it brak, Sae my true Love did lichtly me. O waly waly, but love be bonny A little time while it is new; But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld And fades awa...
Page 123 - Lie slaughter'd on their native ground ; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door; In smoky ruins sunk they lie. The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war ; Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Page 124 - The pious mother, doom'd to death, Forsaken wanders o'er the heath ; The bleak wind whistles round her head, Her helpless orphans cry for bread ; Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of night descend : And stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.
Page iii - You are a good, worthy, honest fellow, and have a good right to live in this world — because you deserve it. Many a merry meeting this publication has given us, and possibly it may give us more, though, alas ! I fear it. This protracting, slow, consuming illness which hangs over me, will, I doubt much, my ever dear friend, arrest my sun before he has well reached his middle career, and will turn over the poet to far more important concerns than studying...
Page iv - Many a merry meeting this publication has given us, and possibly it may give us more, though, alas! I fear it. This protracting, slow, consuming illness which hangs over me, will, I doubt much, my ever -dear friend, arrest my s"un before he has well reached his middle career, and will turn over the poet to far more important concerns than studying the brilliancy of wit or the pathos of sentiment. However, hope is the cordial of the human heart, and I endeavour to cherish it as well as I can.

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