| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Ah! tell me ye swains have ye seen my Pastora |
5-6 |
|
| 'Twas near a thicket's calm retreat |
6 |
3 |
| Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day |
7 |
3 |
| Hither, hither Mary, hither, hither come |
7-8 |
3 |
| Since [then] I'm doom'd this sad rever[s]e to prove |
8 |
2 |
| Beyond yon hill where Stinchar flows |
8-9 |
4 |
| With care I've search'd the village round |
10-11 |
3 |
| I have look'd into life and with truth I can say |
11 |
6 |
| In the downhill of life, I find I'm diclining [sic] |
12 |
4 |
| Ye sons of Hibernia, who snug on dry land |
13-15 |
12 |
| 'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town |
16 |
3 |
| 'Twas post meridian, half past four |
16-18 |
6 |
| In storms when clouds obscure the sky |
18-19 |
5 |
| Say, have you seen my Arabell? |
19 |
3 |
| Sea was calm, the sky serene, The |
20 |
3 |
| Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling |
20-21 |
3 |
| Our country is our ship, d' ye see |
21-22 |
3 |
| Come all hands ahoy to the anchor |
22-24 |
6 |
| One moon-shiney night, about two in the morning [sic] |
24-26 |
7 |
| Wealthy fool, with gold in store, The |
26 |
3 |
| Silver moon that shines so bright, The |
27 |
5 |
| When Bibo went down to the regions below |
27-28 |
3 |
| Assist me, ye lads who have hearts void of guile |
28-29 |
6 |
| O listen, listen to the voice of love |
29-30 |
3 |
| When the fancy-stirring bowl |
30-31 |
4 |
| One sweet May-morn, in woody dale |
31-32 |
5 |
| Tho' far beyond the mountains that look so distant here |
32-33 |
5 |
| Trees seem to fade as yon spot in viewing, The |
33-34 |
5 |
| Come, hail the day, ye sons of mirth |
34-35 |
8 |
| Ye sons of Columbia, O hail the great day |
36-37 |
5 |
| To the gods who preside o'er the nations below |
37-39 |
8 |
| Streamlet that flow'd round her cot, The |
39 |
2 |
| Ere around the huge oak that o'ershadows yon mill |
40 |
3 |
| Ah! where can fly my soul's true love? |
40 |
2 |
| When sailing with a fav'ring tide |
41 |
4 |
| John Bull, for pastime took a prance |
41-43 |
6 |
| At dead of night. the hour when courts |
43-44 |
4 |
| Let care be a stranger to each jolly soul |
44-45 |
5 |
| Kind husband will, after a conjugal strife, A |
45 |
4 |
| Of all that, strive to live and thrive |
46 |
4 |
| Sup of good whiskey will make you glad, A |
47-48 |
7 |
| I am lately return'd from the ocean |
48-50 |
7 |
| Night o'er the world her curtain hung |
50-51 |
3 |
| To hear a sweet goldfinch's sonnet |
51-52 |
3 |
| When first I slipp'd my leading strings to please her little Poll |
52-53 |
4 |
| Sweet inmate sensibility |
53 |
2 |
| By her own lovely self, that's my choice and delight |
53 |
2 |
| O fear not my courage, prov'd over and over |
54 |
4 |
| Adieu! adieu! my only life |
54-55 |
3 |
| My heart is as honest, and brave as the best |
55-56 |
2 |
| In the worlds, in the worlds crooked path, where I've been |
56 |
3 |
| With lovely suit and plaintive ditty |
56-57 |
2 |
| How happily my life I led |
57 |
2 |
| When to my pretty Poll I went |
58-59 |
8 |
| At dawn I rose with jocund glee |
59 |
2 |
| Though I am now a very little lad |
59-60 |
3 |
| Boys, when I play, cry, OH! crimini |
60-61 |
3 |
| Then farewell, my trim-built wherry |
62 |
3 |
| Dear sir, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale |
62-63 |
3 |
| Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear |
63 |
2 |
| Soft zephyr, on thy balmy wing |
63 |
3 |
| 'Twas near a rock, within a bay |
64 |
4 |
| Twins of Latona, so kind to my boon, The |
65 |
3 |
| You may talk of a brogue, and of Ireland sweet nation |
65-66 |
3 |
| Now driving thro' Highgate I stop'd a good while in 't |
66-67 |
5 |
| Arrah Tippo, your highness, give over your fun |
68-69 |
4 |
| Boder, O Mr. Dib, what d' ye mean by all that |
69-70 |
5 |
| Now spring her sweets discloses |
70-71 |
3 |
| O Logie of Buchan! O Logie the laird' |
71-72 |
5 |
| Lass of Peaties mill, The |
72-73 |
4 |
| 'Twas in that season of the year |
73-74 |
4 |
| Farewell to Lochaber and farewell my Jean |
74 |
3 |
| Our immortal poet's page |
75-77 |
8 |
| Curtis was old Hodge's wife |
77-78 |
6 |
| When last from the straights we had fairly cast anchor |
78-79 |
3 |
| Passing bell was heard to toll, The |
79-80 |
5 |
| O fortune, how strangely thy gifts are awarded |
81-82 |
8 |
| When first I went to school it was all my delight |
82-83 |
5 |
| Night reigns around, in sleep's soft arms |
84 |
3 |
| To Anacreon in Heaven where he sat in full glee |
84-86 |
6 |
| Echoing horn calls the sportsmen abroad, The |
86-87 |
2 |
| Plague of those musty old lubbers, A |
87-88 |
4 |
| O'er barren hills, and flowry dales |
88-89 |
3 |
| Young Teddy is an Irish lad |
88-90 |
3 |
| Tuneful lavrocks cheer the grove, The |
90 |
3 |
| Oh the hours I have past in the arms of my dear |
91 |
3 |
| Sweet music wakes the May day morn |
91-92 |
3 |
| Young Sandy's gone to kirk, I ken |
92-93 |
3 |
| Indeed, miss, such sweethearts as I am |
93 |
4 |
| I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hill |
94 |
4 |
| World's a strange world, child, it must be confest, The |
95 |
2 |
| Miss Jenny, don't think that I care for you |
95-96 |
3 |