A Dictionary of Lowland Scotch

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Priv. print. at the Ballantyne Press, 1888 - 398 pagine
 

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Pagina 86 - Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted ; Five scimitars wi' murder crusted ; A garter, which a babe had strangled ; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain son o...
Pagina 131 - OLD King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.
Pagina 323 - Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a : A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Pagina 313 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim...
Pagina 23 - Coffins stood round, like open presses; That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; And by some devilish cantrip slight Each in its cauld hand held a light— By which heroic Tam was able To note upon the haly table, A murderer's banes in gibbet aims; Twa span-lang, wee unchristen'd bairns; A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; Five tomahawks, wi...
Pagina 54 - A marquis, duke, and a' that ; But an honest man 's aboon his might— Guid faith, he mauna fa' that ! For a
Pagina 287 - But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
Pagina 75 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that ; The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that ; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Pagina 120 - But a' your doings to rehearse, Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, Sin' that day Michael* did you pierce, Down to this time, Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse, In prose or rhyme. An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin, A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin, Some luckless hour will send him linkin, To your black pit ; But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin, An' cheat you yet. But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an...
Pagina 16 - For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne.

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