The Text is taken from Scott's Minstrelsy (1803). It would be of great interest if we could be sure that the reference to 'Hive Hill' in 8.1 was from genuine Scots tradition. In Wager's comedy The Longer thou Lived the more Foo...
I was drifting in the drizzle past the Cecil in the Strand, Which, I'm told, is very tony, and its front looks very grand; And I somehow fell a-thinking of a pub I know so well,...
A close-fist had his money hoarded Beyond the room his till afforded. His avarice aye growing ranker, (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) He was perplex'd to choose a banker;...
Now that we've done our best and worst, and parted, I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend. (O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted) I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;...
Come calf now to mother, Come lamb that I choose, Come cats, one and t' other, With snowy-white shoes, Come gosling all yellow, Come forth with your fellow, Come chickens so small,...
Hate is the cask of the Dana'des; Vengeance, distraught, has red and brawny arms, With which she hurls into her empty dark Buckets of blood and tears from dead men's eyes. ...
Pussy can sit by the fire and sing, Pussy can climb a tree, Or play with a silly old cork and string To 'muse herself, not me. But I like Binkie my dog, because He knows how to behave;...
At Hilton Hall, long years ago, there lived a Brownie that was the contrariest Brownie you ever knew. At night, after the servants had gone to bed, it would turn everything topsy-turvy, put sugar in the salt-cellars, pepper...
The change has come, and Helen sleeps-- Not sleeps; but wakes to greater deeps Of wisdom, glory, truth, and light, Than ever blessed her seeking sight, In this low, long, lethargic night,...
Deep in a valley, green with ancient beech, And wandered through of one small, silent stream, Whose bear-grassed banks bristled with brush and burr, Tick-trefoil and the thorny marigold,...
The charge of the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade Down the hill, down the hill, thousands of Russians, Thousands of horsemen, drew to the valley ? and stayed;...
The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away, The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers. Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May. ...
The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother's breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest. He nothing knows of change or death-- Her face his holy skies;...