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Poor little Heart!
192
Poor little Heart!
Did they forget thee?
Then dinna care! Then dinna care!
Proud little Heart!
Did they forsake thee?
Be debonnaire! Be debonnaire!
Frail little Heart!
I would not break thee—
Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me?
Gay little Heart—
Like Morning Glory!
Wind and Sun—wilt thee array!
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They that see but your head dinna see your height.
When ye ca' the dog out o' your ain kail-yaird, dinna ca't into mine.
Dinna streetch yer airm farther than yer sleeve'll let ye.
Mony ways to kill a dog though ye dinna hang him.
Old English Lullaby
Hush, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder will rocke her sweete,-
Balow, my boy!
When that his toile ben done,
Daddie will come anone,-
Hush thee, my lyttel one;
Balow, my boy!
Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce
Fayries will come to daunce,-
Balow, my boy!
Oft hath thy moder seene
Moonlight and mirkland queene
Daunce on thy slumbering een,-
Balow, my boy!
Then droned a bomblebee
Saftly this songe to thee:
'Balow, my boy!'
And a wee heather bell,
Pluckt from a fayry dell,
Chimed thee this rune hersell:
'Balow, my boy!'
Soe, bonnie, dinna greit;
Moder doth rock her sweete,-
Balow, my boy!
Give mee thy lyttel hand,
Moder will hold it and
Lead thee to balow land,-
Balow, my boy!
poem by Eugene Field
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Altho' He Has Left Me
Altho' he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow,
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Here's To Thy Health
Tune - "Laggan Burn."
Here's to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care,
How lang ye look about ye.
Thou'rt aye sae free informing me,
Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I'll be as free informing thee,
Nae time hae I to tarry:
I ken thy frien's try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance,
But fortune may betray thee.
I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me;
For I'm as free as any he;
Sma' siller will relieve me.
I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it;
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.
But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And, aye until ye try them,
Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;
They may prove waur than I am.
But at twal' at night, when the moon shines bright,
My dear, I'll come and see thee;
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
Nae travel makes him weary.
poem by Robert Burns
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Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy wades through water, feeling with his toes for the bottom: The echoes are the bottom.
quote by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wade In The Water
(first release, live version minneapolis, december 22, 1961traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, who are these children all dressed in red?
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Must-a-be the children that moses lead
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well out of the mountain come fire an smoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Jehovah nobody be he couldve spoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, Im walkin down the highway an the waters gettin low
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Walkin down the highway, nowhere to go
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
But its wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lass That Made the Bed to Me, The
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day:
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And Kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An bade her make a bed to me;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank - "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."
Chorus - The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me,
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.
She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head:
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kis,
I put my arms about her neck.
Chorus: -...
"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said,
"And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
O wrang ma my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And aye she wist na what to say:
I laid her 'tween me and the wa';
The lassie thocht na lang till day.
Chorus: -...
Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall make the bed to me."
Chorus: - ...
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lass That Made the Bed to Me
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day:
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And Kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An bade her make a bed to me;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank - "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."
Chorus - The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me,
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.
She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head:
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kis,
I put my arms about her neck.
Chorus: -...
"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said,
"And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
O wrang ma my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And aye she wist na what to say:
I laid her 'tween me and the wa';
The lassie thocht na lang till day.
Chorus: -...
Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall make the bed to me."
Chorus: - ...
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
poem by Robert Burns
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Donald Caird's Come Again
Chorus
Donald Caird's
come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Tell the news in brugh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird can lilt and sing,
Blithely dance the Hieland fling,
Drink till the gudeman be blind,
Fleech till the gudewife be kind;
Hoop a leglin, clout a pan,
Or crack a pow wi' ony man;
Tell the news in brugh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again.
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Tell the news in brugh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird can wire a maukin,
Kens the wiles o' dun-deer staukin',
Leisters kipper, makes a shift
To shoot a muir-fowl in the drift;
Water-bailiffs, rangers, keepers,
He can wauk when they are sleepers;
Not for bountith or reward
Dare ye mell wi' Donald Caird.
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Gar the bagpipes hum amain,
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird can drink a gill
Fast as hostler wife can fill;
Ilka ane that sells gude liquor
Kens how Donald bends a bicker;
When he's fou he's stout and saucy,
Keeps the cantle o' the cawsey;
Hieland chief and Lawland laird
Maun gie room to Donald Caird!
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Tell the news in brugh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again!
Sleek the amrie, lock the kist,
Else some gear may weel be mist;
Donald Caird finds orra things
Where Allan Gregor fand the tings;
Dunts of Kebbuck, taits o' woo,
Whiles a hen and whiles a sow,
Webs or duds frae hedge or yard-
'Ware the wuddie, Donald Caird!
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Dinna let the Shirra ken,
Donald Caird's come again!
On Donald Caird the doom was stern,
Craig to tether, legs to airn;
But Donald Caird wi' mickle study,
Caught the gift to cheat the wuddie;
Rings of airn, and bolts of steel,
Fell like ice frae hand and heel!
Watch the sheep in fauld and glen,
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Donald Caird's come again!
Dinna let the Justice ken,
Donald Caird's come again!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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