"Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Now tired with wandering, haudawahame; Come to my bosom, my aeonly dearie, And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Loud blew the cauldwinter winds at our parting; It was nathe blast brought the tear in my e'e: Now welcome the Simmer, and welcome my Willie, The [...]
"O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten, An'kenye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten? She gottena coofwi' a clauto' siller, And broken the heart o'the barley Miller. The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy; A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady; The lairdwas a widdifu', bleerit [...]
"The night was still, and o'er the hill The moon shone on the castle wa'; The mavissang, while dew-drops hang Around her on the castle wa'; Saemerrily they danced the ring Fraeeenin' tillthe cockdid craw; And aye the o'erwordo'the spring Was ""Irvine's bairns are boniea'."""
"Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon, How can ye blumesae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu'o care! Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough! Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luvewas true. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That [...]
"Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return. AfthaeI rov'd byBonieDoon, [...]
"Talk not to me of savages, From Afric's burning sun; Nosavage e'ercould rend my heart, As Jessie, thou hast done: ButJessie's lovely hand in mine, A mutual faith to plight, Not even to view the heavenly choir, Would be so blest a sight."
Altho' my bed were in yonmuir, Amangthe heather, in my plaidie; Yet happy, happy would I be, Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy. When o'er the hill beat surly storms, And winter nights were dark and rainy; I'd seek some dell, and in my arms I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's Peggy. Were I a baron proud [...]
As I was a-wand'ring aemorning in spring, I heard a young ploughman saesweetly to sing; And as he was singin', thirwords he did say, - There's naelife like the ploughman's in the month o'sweet May. The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise fraeher nest, And mount i'the airwi' the dew on her breast, And wi'the [...]