The Songstresses of Scotland, Volume 1

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Strahan, 1871 - Authors, Scottish - 334 pages

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Page 46 - Been fed this month and mair ; Mak haste and thraw their necks about, That Colin weel may fare ; And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared When he was far awa?
Page 44 - His breath like caller air ; His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, In troth I'm like
Page 177 - I last night supped in Mr Walter Scott's. He has the most extraordinary genius of a boy I ever saw. He was reading a poem to his mother when I went in. I made him read on : it was the description of a shipwreck. His passion rose with the storm. He lifted his eyes and hands. 'There's the mast gone,' says he; 'crash it goes ! — they will all perish ! ' After his agitation, he turns to me. 'That is too melancholy,' says he; 'I had better read you something more amusing.
Page 176 - The town is at present agog with the ploughman poet, who receives adulation with native dignity, and is the very figure of his profession, strong and coarse, but has a most enthusiastic heart of love. He has seen Duchess Gordon and all the gay world: his favourite for looks and manners is Bess Burnet - no bad judge, indeed . . . The man will be spoiled, if he can spoil; but he keeps his simple manners, and is quite sober.
Page 295 - Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu...
Page 45 - Is this a time to think o' wark ? Ye jades, lay by your wheel ; Is this the time to spin a thread, When Colin's at the door ? Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a' ; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa'.
Page 263 - Hae thrilled through a' my heart; The sang had mony an artfu' turn, My ear confessed 'twas fine, But I missed the simple melody I listened to langsyne. Ye sons to comrades o' my youth, Forgie an auld man's spleen, Wha midst your gayest scenes still mourns The days he ance has seen. When time has passed, and seasons fled, Your hearts will feel like mine, And aye the sang will maist delight That minds ye o
Page 266 - those aged elms ! Lay low yon mournfu' pine !' Na ! na ! our fathers' names grow there, Memorials o
Page 45 - And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he's weel ? Is this a time to think o
Page 267 - I missed the youthfu' bloom. At balls they pointed to a nymph Wham a' declared divine ; But sure her mother's blushing cheeks Were fairer far langsyne ! " In vain I sought in music's sound To find that magic art Which oft in Scotland's ancient lays Has thrilled through a' my heart: The sang had mony an artfu' turn ; My ear confessed 'twas fine ; But missed the simple melody I listened to langsyne.

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