|
It was a’ for our rightfu’ king
|
291
|
|
O steer her up and haud her gaun
|
291
|
|
O ay my wife she dang me
|
291
|
|
O wert thou in the cauld blast
|
292
|
|
The Banks of Cree
|
292
|
|
On the seas and far away
|
292
|
|
Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes
|
293
|
|
Sae flaxen were her ringlets
|
293
|
|
O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
|
294
|
|
How lang and dreary is the night
|
294
|
|
Let not woman e’er complain
|
294
|
|
The Lover’s Morning Salute to his Mistress
|
295
|
|
My Chloris, mark how green the groves
|
295
|
|
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe
|
296
|
|
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks
|
296
|
|
Farewell, thou stream, that winding flows
|
296
|
|
O Philly, happy be the day
|
297
|
|
Contented wi’ little and cantie wi’ mair
|
297
|
|
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy
|
298
|
|
My Nannie’s awa
|
298
|
|
O wha is she that lo’es me
|
299
|
|
Caledonia
|
299
|
|
O lay thy loof in mine, lass
|
300
|
|
The Fête Champêtre
|
300
|
|
Here’s a health to them that’s awa
|
301
|
|
For a’ that, and a’ that
|
301
|
|
Craigieburn Wood
|
302
|
|
O lassie, art thou sleeping yet
|
302
|
|
O tell na me o’ wind and rain
|
303
|
|
The Dumfries Volunteers
|
303
|
|
Address to the Wood-lark
|
304
|
|
On Chloris being ill
|
304
|
|
Their groves o’ sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon
|
304
|
|
’Twas na her bonnie blue een was my ruin
|
305
|
|
How cruel are the parents
|
305
|
|
Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
|
305
|
