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John Anderson, my Jo
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237
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Awa, Whigs, awa
|
238
|
|
Ca’ the Ewes to the Knowes
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238
|
|
Merry hae I been teethin’ a heckle
|
239
|
|
The Braes of Ballochmyle
|
239
|
|
To Mary in Heaven
|
239
|
|
Eppie Adair
|
240
|
|
The Battle of Sherriff-muir
|
240
|
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Young Jockey was the blithest lad
|
241
|
|
O Willie brewed a peck o’ maut
|
241
|
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The braes o’ Killiecrankie, O
|
241
|
|
I gaed a waefu’ gate yestreen
|
242
|
|
The Banks of Nith
|
242
|
|
Tam Glen
|
242
|
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Frae the friends and land I love
|
243
|
|
Craigie-burn Wood
|
243
|
|
Cock up your Beaver
|
244
|
|
O meikle thinks my luve o’ my beauty
|
244
|
|
Gudewife, count the Lawin
|
244
|
|
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame
|
245
|
|
The bonnie lad that’s far awa
|
245
|
|
I do confess thou art sae fair
|
245
|
|
Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide
|
246
|
|
It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face
|
246
|
|
When I think on the happy days
|
247
|
|
Whan I sleep I dream
|
247
|
|
“I murder hate by field or flood”
|
247
|
|
O gude ale comes and gude ale goes
|
247
|
|
Robin shure in hairst
|
248
|
|
Bonnie Peg
|
248
|
|
Gudeen to you, Kimmer
|
248
|
|
Ah, Chloris, since it may na be
|
249
|
|
Eppie M’Nab
|
249
|
|
Wha is that at my bower-door
|
249
|
|
What can a young lassie do wi’ an auld man
|
250
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