184 quotes
O whistle, an' I'll come to you, my lad:
O whistle, an' I'll come to you, my lad:
Tho' father and mither should baith gae mad,
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creeping alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swats and an auld Scottish sang.
Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonie gem.
From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,
"An honest man's the noblest work of God."
The Cotter's Saturday Night (1786)
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Johnson's The Scots Musical Museum (1787)
Drumossie moor — Drumossie day —
A waefu' day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
O, saw ye bonnie Leslie
As she gaed o’er the border?
She’s gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
To see her is to love her,
And love but her forever;
For nature made her what she is,
And ne’er made sic anither!
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand.
Johnson's The Scots Musical Museum (1787)
Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho' sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.
Tam o' Shanter (1790)
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert were a paradise
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
The mother may forget the child
That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done for me!
All in this mottie, misty clime,
I backward mus'd on wasted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime
An' done nae-thing,
But stringing blethers up to rhyme
For fools to sing.
The Vision (1785)
I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks,
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks,
With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil,
All in all he's a problem must puzzle the devil.
Sketch inscribed to Charles James Fox (1800)
While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
O little did my mother think
When first she cradled me,
That I would turn a rovin’ boy
And die on the gallows tree.
Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
Were twisted gracefu' round her brows,
I took her for some Scottish Muse,
By that same token,
An' come to stop those reckless vows,
Would soon be broken.
The Vision (1786)
My curse upon thy venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortured gums alang;
And through my lugs gies monie a twang,
Wi' gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo!
Johnson's The Scots Musical Museum (1787)