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Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain ;
For I maun cross the main.
He turn'd him right and round about
With Adieu for evermore !
The sodger frae the wars returns,
But I hae parted frae my love,
Never to meet again,
Never to meet again.
When day is gane, and night is come,
I think on him that 's far awa',
The lee-lang night, and weep.
There'll never be Peace
yon castle wa', at the close of the day, I heard a man sing, tho' his head it was grey;
And as he was singing, the tears fast down came, There 'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. lee-lang] live-long.
main] the high sea.
The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars,
We darena weel say 't, tho' we ken wha 's to blameThere 'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd. It brak the sweet heart of my faithful auld dameThere 'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin' I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown ;
Wee Willie Gray
WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet;
Peel a willow-wand to be him boots and jacket:
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet ;
Twice a lily flower will be him sark and cravat :
To a Mouse
WEE, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Which mak's thee startle
I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
'S a sma' request :
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
And never miss 't!
bickering brattle] scurrying rush. daimen-icker] odd ear of corn. lave] remainder.
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste,
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
foggage] aftermath. hald] hold, shelter. thy lane] alone.
but] without. cranreuch] hoar-frost.
HERE's a health to them that's away,
Here's a health to them that 's away,
Here's a health to them that were here short syne,
But canna be here the day.
It's guid to be merry and wise,
It's guid to be honest and true ;
Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 'What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl ? I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.
short syne] a short time ago.
70* A Man's a Man for a' that
Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, and a' that?
but] nothing but.