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The Trogger.

2018-11-12T18:28:57+00:00Categories: None, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Wha will buy my troggin, fine election ware, Broken trade o' Broughton, a' in high repair? Chorus-Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee; Whawants trogginlet him come to me. There's a noble Earl's fame and high renown, For an auldsang-it's thought the gudes were stown- Buy braw troggin, &c. Here's the worth o' Broughton

Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear

2018-11-12T18:25:54+00:00Categories: 1771-1779, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Ah, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For saircontention I maunbear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne'er could lend on billorband, That five per cent. might blest me; And borrowing, on the titherhand, The deila anewadtrust me. Yet I, a coin-denied wight, By Fortune quite discarded;

Handsome Nell^1

2018-11-12T18:25:55+00:00Categories: 1771-1779, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Once I lov'd a bonie lass, Ay, and I love her still; And whilst that virtue warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I haeseen, And mony full as braw; But, for a modest gracefu' mein, The like I never saw. A bonielass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e;

I Dream’d I Lay

2018-11-12T18:25:55+00:00Categories: 1771-1779, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam; List'ning to the wild birds singing, Bya falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; Tress with aged arms were warring, O'er the swelling drumliewave. Such was my life's deceitful morning, Such the pleasures

Montgomerie’s Peggy

2018-11-12T18:25:55+00:00Categories: 1771-1779, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

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

On Chloris Being Ill

2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:00Categories: 1795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Chorus-Long, long the night, Heavy comes the morrow While my soul's delight Is on her bed of sorrow. Can I cease to care? Can I cease to languish, While my darling Fair Is on the couch of anguish? Long, long, &c. Ev'ry hope is fled, Ev'ry fear is terror, Slumber ev'n I dread, Ev'ry dream

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