Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish DialectPrinted at the Star office for the author, 1826 - Всего страниц: 120 |
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aften alang Amang anither arms auld awee bailies bailiff baith band bard beast blaw Bohea bonnet borough braw brugh call'd castin chiel Cocknies cou'd death dram e'er fame fell fill'd fire fouk frae friends ga'e gang gart gi'e gowd grane Greece groun ha'e hail hair hame haud head heart hersel himsel hizzies hun'er i'the ilka in's in't INRURY Inverury ither kent KINTORE kirk lasses Lon'on town Lord LORD BYRON LORD COCHRANE mair maist maun mony mou's muse ne'er neist night o'er pistol POEM pouch poun pow'r Red Beard roun Sackbutt Sawny scene Scot shou'd shouther smile soger soul syne ta'en takin thee themsel's thou thro unto wame warle ween Wha's wham whan Whare Whase Whilk winna wou'd ye're
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Стр. 90 - Duns had threatened him even with imprisonment, but he was beyond their pale, for they really could have done nothing to him that would not have likely bettered his condition. Hear him: — Man ! me wi' jails ye canna fley ; Like a sheep cote, or auF swipe stye, My dwallin' is a rickle o' dry, Undrest stane wa's, An' like aul' dykes, ilk stormy day Drift thro
Стр. 91 - Folk, comin' in an' out, aft tell me. That it will fa', some night, an' fell me, Some mornin', soon, they'll hae to sheell me Out o' the ruins ; Therefore, to apprehend and jail me, I gi'e ye 'llowance. Immur'd in prison wa's, I'll fare, Ne doubt, as well as I do here ; An...
Стр. 29 - He gives us a glimpse of himself — . . . the man o' rhyme Just like a Cyclops, black an' grim, Sittin' in's smiddie, passin's time, Writin' a play, In hopes that cash in's pouch will chime For it some day — at the time when the establishment of large distilleries and other causes brought his little trade to the lowest ebb. Indeed he speaks then, of " half-a-crown a uke " being about the sum of his earnings. Under these circumstances, it is not to be wondered at, that he sometimes looked back...
Стр. 9 - They aften hae a moonlight flittin' ta'en, And thus the bitch to clip your bits o' knabry gi'en, Which sair'd them as they shoird been.
Стр. 77 - An' in his hip they ha'e their horn. An' push him headlong to the foot, Wi' the brutality o
Стр. 2 - Ae night a bardie about witching time, Frae Ardies nae langsyne was saunterin...
Стр. 10 - And forged ale sellers licences for drink, For which their heads should been put i'the mink ; And burghers made o...