The goblet is sparkling with purpled-tinged wine, Bright glistens the eye of each guest, When into the hall comes the Minstrel divine, To the good he now brings what is best;...
Sweet faces, that from pictured casements lean As from a castle window, looking down On some gay pageant passing through a town, Yourselves the fairest figures in the scene;...
"Father!" a youthful hero said, bending his lofty brow "On the world wide I must go forth - then bless me, bless me, now! And, ere I shall return oh say, what goal must I have won -...
A fox, though young, by no means raw, Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw: 'Ho! neighbour wolf,' said he to one quite green, 'A creature in our meadow I have seen, -...
A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, Whom none of his sort had caught in a nap, Was finally caught in somebody's trap....
Said Fox, minus tail in a trap, "My friends! here's a lucky mishap: Give your tails a short lease!" But the foxes weren't geese, And none followed the fashion of trap. ...
The boats of Newhaven and Folkestone and Dover To Dieppe and Boulogne and to Calais cross over; And in each of those runs there is not a square yard Where the English and French haven't fought and fought hard!...
The Text is taken from Buchan's MSS., the Scots version being rather more condensed than the corresponding English broadside. There is a reference to this ballad in Munday's Downfall of Robert, Earl of Huntington (1598); but ea...
The tenant of a bog, An envious little frog, Not bigger than an egg, A stately bullock spies, And, smitten with his size, Attempts to be as big. With earnestness and pains,...
There was a little Fog Whose home was in a bog, And he worried 'cause he wasn't big enough. He sees an ox and cries: "That's just about my size, If I stretch myself - Say Sister, see me puff!" ...
Feathery frost on the window-pane, Who placed you there? "I cannot explain," Each little feather at once replied; "But this I know, I'm the children's pride, As they think I fell from an angel's wing,...
As it was but last week that I sint you a letther, You'll wondher, dear Judy, what this is about; And, throth, it's a letther myself would like betther, Could I manage to lave the contints of it out;...
Dear Judy, I sind you this bit of a letther, By mail-coach conveyance--for want of a betther-- To tell you what luck in this world I have had Since I left the sweet cabin, at Mullinafad....
A set of phrases learn'd by rote; A passion for a scarlet coat; When at a play, to laugh or cry, Yet cannot tell the reason why; Never to hold her tongue a minute,...
The gathering of dead wood - driven, pinched in faces between the strain of Van Gogh's setting - had all the more realism hastening down that leaden street. ...