Whistle Ow'r The Lave O't
My mither sent me tae the moss
For to gaither peats and dross.
I cowpit the cairt and hanged the horse
An whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the well
Better her had gaen hersel'.
I fell ower and broke my pail,
An' whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the sea
For tae gaither mussels three,
A sailor lad fell in wi' me
An' whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the moss
For tae gaither peats and dross.
I cowpit the cairt and hanged the horse,
And whistle ow'r the lave o't.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Edward, Edward
'Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude
And why sae sad gang ye, O?'
'O I hae killed my hawk sae gude,
Mither, mither;
O I hae killed my hawk sae gude,
And I hae nae mair but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
Edward, Edward;
Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
My dear son, I tell thee, O.'
'O I hae killed my red-roan steed,
Mither, mither;
O I hae killed my red-roan steed,
That was sae fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was auld, and ye've plenty mair,
Edward, Edward;
Your steed was auld, and ye've plenty mair;
Some ither dule ye dree, O.'
'O I hae killed my father dear,
Mither, mither;
O I hae killed my father dear,
Alas, and wae is me, O!'
'And whatten penance will ye dree for that,
Edward, Edward?
Whatten penance will ye dree for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mither, mither;
I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I'll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
Mither, mither;
I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
For here never mair maun I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
When ye gang ower the sea, O?'
'The warld's room: let them beg through life,
Mither, mither;
The warld's room: let them beg through life;
For them never mair will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
My dear son, now tell me, O?'
'The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither;
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:
Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!'
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bloody Sun
“O WHERE have ye been the morn sae late,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
O where have ye been the morn sae late?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“By the water-gate, by the water-gate,
O dear mither.”
“And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“I watered my steeds with water frae the lake,
O dear mither.”
“Why is your coat sae fouled the day,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
Why is your coat sae fouled the day?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay,
O dear mither.”
“And where gat ye thae sleeves of red,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where gat ye thae sleeves of red?
And I wot I hae but anither.”
“I have slain my ae brither by the weary water-head,
O dear mither.”
“And where will ye gang to mak your mend,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where will ye gang to mak your mend?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The warldis way, to the warldis end,
O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave your father dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your father dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The wood to fell and the logs to bear,
For he’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave your mither dear,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your mither dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The wool to card and the wool to wear,
For ye’ll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave for your wife to take,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave for your wife to take?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“A goodly gown and a fair new make,
For she’ll do nae mair for my body’s sake,
O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave your young son fair,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your young son fair?
And I wot ye hae not anither.”
“A twiggen school-rod for his body to bear,
Though it garred him greet he’ll get nae mair,
O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet?
And I wot ye hae not anither.”
“Wild mulberries for her mouth to eat,
She’ll get nae mair though it garred her greet,
O dear mither.”
“And when will ye come back frae roamin’,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
And when will ye come back frae roamin’?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“When the sunrise out of the north is comen,
O dear mither.”
“When shall the sunrise on the north side be,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall the sunrise on the north side be?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“When chuckie-stanes shall swim in the sea,
O dear mither.”
“When shall stanes in the sea swim,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall stanes in the sea swim?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“When birdies’ feathers are as lead therein,
O dear mither.”
“When shall feathers be as lead,
My merry son, come tell me hither?
When shall feathers be as lead?
And I wot I hae not anither.”
“When God shall judge between the quick and dead,
O dear mither.”
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edward, Edward
'WHY does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
And why sae sad gang ye, O?'
'O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
And I had nae mair but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
Edward, Edward;
Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
My dear son, I tell thee, O.'
'O I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
That erst was sae fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,
Edward, Edward;
Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;
Some other dule ye dree, O.'
'O I hae kill'd my father dear,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my father dear,
Alas, and wae is me, O!'
'And whatten penance will ye dree for that,
Edward, Edward?
Whatten penance will ye dree for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mither, mither;
I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I'll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
Mither, mither;
I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
For here never mair maun I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
When ye gang owre the sea, O?'
'The warld's room: let them beg through life,
Mither, mither;
The warld's room: let them beg through life;
For them never mair will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
My dear son, now tell me, O?'
'The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither;
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:
Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!'
Edward, Edward
Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid,
Edward, Edward?
Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid?
And why sae sad gang ye, O?
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither,
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
And I had nae mair bot hee, O.
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward,
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee, O.
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither,
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and frie, O.
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward,
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie, O.
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither,
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas, and wae is mee, O.
And whatten penance wul ye drie for that,
Edward, Edward?
And whatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me, O.
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither,
Il set my feit in yonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea, O.
And what wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha',
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha',
That were sae fair to see, O?
Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa',
Mither, mither,
Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee, O.
And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Whan ye gang ovir the sea, O?
The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
Mither, mither,
The warldis room, let them beg thrae life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.
And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell mee, O.
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither,
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Sic counseils ye gave to me, O.
poem by Thomas Percy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Outlaw
Oh, I wadna be a yeoman, mither, to follow my father's trade,
To bow my back in miry banks, at pleugh and hoe and spade.
Stinting wife, and bairns, and kye, to fat some courtier lord,-
Let them die o' rent wha like, mither, and I'll die by sword.
Nor I wadna be a clerk, mither, to bide aye ben,
Scrabbling ower the sheets o' parchment with a weary weary pen;
Looking through the lang stane windows at a narrow strip o' sky,
Like a laverock in a withy cage, until I pine away and die.
Nor I wadna be a merchant, mither, in his lang furred gown,
Trailing strings o' footsore horses through the noisy dusty town;
Louting low to knights and ladies, fumbling o'er his wares,
Telling lies, and scraping siller, heaping cares on cares.
Nor I wadna be a soldier, mither, to dice wi' ruffian bands,
Pining weary months in castles, looking over wasted lands.
Smoking byres, and shrieking women, and the grewsome sights o' war-
There's blood on my hand eneugh, mither; it's ill to make it mair.
If I had married a wife, mither, I might ha' been douce and still,
And sat at hame by the ingle side to crack and laugh my fill;
Sat at hame wi' the woman I looed, and wi' bairnies at my knee:
But death is bauld, and age is cauld, and luve's no for me.
For when first I stirred in your side, mither, ye ken full well
How you lay all night up among the deer out on the open fell;
And so it was that I won the heart to wander far and near,
Caring neither for land nor lassie, but the bonnie dun deer.
Yet I am not a losel and idle, mither, nor a thief that steals;
I do but hunt God's cattle, upon God's ain hills;
For no man buys and sells the deer, and the bonnie fells are free
To a belted knight with hawk on hand, and a gangrel loon like me.
So I'm aff and away to the muirs, mither, to hunt the deer,
Ranging far frae frowning faces, and the douce folk here;
Crawling up through burn and bracken, louping down the screes,
Looking out frae craig and headland, drinking up the simmer breeze.
Oh, the wafts o' heather honey, and the music o' the brae,
As I watch the great harts feeding, nearer, nearer a' the day.
Oh, to hark the eagle screaming, sweeping, ringing round the sky-
That's a bonnier life than stumbling ower the muck to colt and kye.
And when I'm taen and hangit, mither, a brittling o' my deer,
Ye'll no leave your bairn to the corbie craws, to dangle in the air;
But ye'll send up my twa douce brethren, and ye'll steal me frae the tree,
And bury me up on the brown brown muirs, where I aye looed to be.
Ye'll bury me 'twixt the brae and the burn, in a glen far away,
Where I may hear the heathcock craw, and the great harts bray;
And gin my ghaist can walk, mither, I'll go glowering at the sky,
The livelong night on the black hill sides where the dun deer lie.
In the New Forest, 1847.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whistle by Flo-Rida
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby (ohh baby ohh baby poooo)
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go
I'm betting you like bebop
And I'm betting you love creep mode
And I'm betting you like girls that give love to girls
And stroke your little ego
I bet you're guilty your honor
But that's how we live in my genre
When I hell I pay the rottweiler
There's only one flo, and one rida
I'm a damn shame
Order more champagne, pull a damn hamstring
Tryna put it on ya
Bet your lips spin back around corner
Slow it down baby take a little longer
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go
Whistle baby, whistle baby,
Whistle baby, whistle baby
It's like everywhere I go
My whistle ready to blow
Shorty don't leave a note
She can get any by the low
Permission not approved
It's okay, it's under control
Show me soprano, cause girl you can handle
Baby we start snagging, you come in part clothes
Girl I'm losing wing, my bucatti the same road
Show me your perfect pitch,
You got it my banjo
Talented with your lips, like you blew out candles
So amusing, now you can make a whistle with the music
Hope you ain't got no issue, you can do it
Give me the perfect picture, never lose it
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go
Whistle baby, whistle baby,
Whistle baby, whistle baby
Go girl you can work it
Let me see your whistle while you work it
I'mma lay it back, don't stop it
Cause I love it how you dropp it, dropp it, dropp it, on me
Now, shorty let that whistle blow
Yeah, baby let that whistle blow
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Let me know
Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it
And we start real slow
You just put your lips together
And you come real close
Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby
Here we go
Whistle baby, whistle baby,
Whistle baby, whistle baby
poem by Shi Yelami
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle
I was ridin' Number Nine,
Headin' south from Caroline.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Got in trouble, had to roam,
Left my gal an' left my home.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Just a kid, actin' smart,
I went and broke my darling's heart,
I guess I was too young to know.
They took me off the Georgia Main,
Locked me to a ball and chain.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All alone I bear the shame,
I'm a number, not a name.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All I do is set [sic] an' cry
When the evenin' train goes by.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
I'll be locked here in this cell
Till my body's just a shell
An' my hair turns whiter than snow.
I'll never see that gal of mine.
Lord, I'm in Georgia doin' time.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wendell Gee
Thats when wendell gee takes a tug
Upon the string that held the line of trees
Behind the house he lived in
He was reared to give respect
But somewhere down the line he chose
To whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
He had a dream one night
That the tree had lost its middle
So he built a trunk of chicken wire
To try to hold it up
But the wire, the wire turned to lizard skin
And when he climbed inside
There wasnt even time to say
Goodbye to wendell gee
So whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
If the wind were colors
And if the air could speak
Then whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4 (War)
The big boys shouted, 'Man your arms! ! '
for their silly little game, ,
and the children ran to the battlefield,
to satisfy their hunger..
of blood
of money
of fame
the children shoots, the children jumps
a complete chaos created by the boys and being played by little childrens..
one by one, the children fell
fell for honor
fell for duty
fell for nothing
and finally the big boys found a new toy
while millions of childrens have gone,
they smiled and prepared the Giant Mushroom
they laughed as they shout, 'Fire in the hole! '
a whistle was heard
a whistle of death
a whistle of sorrow
and it grows, The Mushroom grew as tall as the skies
bodies melted
towns destroyed
another million children died for nothing
and the big boys got all their blood money and fame
and all good children go to heaven
poem by Aldamayo Panjaitan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Whistle's Dirge
The dog trod the path
Towards the den.
The hunter sounded his whistle
Towards the dog.
The rarefaction and compression
Of the whistle sound,
Like the rustling of forest leaves
And the howling of passing wind,
Journeyed hollow through its ears.
The hunter's whistle sings its dirge,
Sooner, the dog is bathed in blood.
poem by Adeoye Adetoba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some whistles
Some whistles do frighten me like
That policeman’s whistle when I jaywalk,
That lewd whistle from an ill-mannered man
Pestering a sexy woman is another thing,
It is so demeaning, unkind, uncalled for
Some mean order like a teacher’s whistle
On a P.E. class to start an exercise in school
Or a kindergarten teacher whistling children to fall in line,
But one whistle really so intrigues me,
The whistle of a young man outside the gate
Of this house, on unholy hours of the night,
While I am writing poetry, this guy whistles
And whistles some curious songs in intermittent notes
Like a love song of a nightingale,
So sensual, so seductive, so magical, almost
Three times a night three times a week,
Till one day, my domestic helper got confused, and comes for my advice,
Why her stomach is mysteriously bloated.
You guessed it right, that magical whistle made her pregnant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lonesome Whistle
Recorded by hank williams, sr.
Words and music by jimmie davis and hank williams, sr.
I was [d] ridin' number nine
Headin' [g] south from caro-[d] line
I heard that lone-[a7] some whistle [d] blow
Got in trouble had to roam
Left my [g] gal and left my [d] home
I heard that lone-[a7] some whistle [d] blow.
1st refrain
Just a [g] kid actin' smart
I went and [d] broke my darlin's heart
I guess i was too young to [a7] know
They took me [d] off the georgia main
Locked me [g] to a ball and [d] chain
I heard that lone-[a7] some whistle [d] blow.
All alone i bear the shame
I'm a number not a name
I heard that lonesome whistle blow
All i do is sit and cry
When the ev'nin' train goes by
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
2nd refrain
I'll be locked here in this cell
Til my body's just a shell
And my hair turns whiter than snow
I'll never see that gal of mine
Lord, i'm in georgia doin' time
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Whistler
Ill buy you six bay mares to put in your stable ---
Six golden apples bought with my pay.
I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune,
But I must be gone by the seventh day.
So come on, Im the whistler.
I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready for the whistler.
I whistle along on the seventh day ---
Whistle along on the seventh day.
All kinds of sadness Ive left behind me.
Manys the day when I have done wrong.
But Ill be yours for ever and ever.
Climb in the saddle and whistle along.
So come on, Im the whistler.
I have a fife and a drum to play.
Get ready for the whistler.
I whistle along on the seventh day ---
Whistle along on the seventh day.
Deep red are the sun-sets in mystical places.
Black are the nights on summer-day sands.
Well find the speck of truth in each riddle.
Hold the first grain of love in our hands.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad
MODERN TRANSLATION (original below)
'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Edward, Edward:
Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Some other evil ye fear, O.'
'O, I have killed my father dear,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my father dear,
Alas! and woe is me, O!'
'And what penance will ye suffer for that,
Edward, Edward?
And what penance will ye suffer for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mother, mother:
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
Mother, mother:
I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your children and your wife
When ye go over the sea, O?'
'The world is large, let them beg through life,
Mother, mother:
The world is large, let them beg throw life,
For them never more will I see, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your own mother dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your own mother dear?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Mother, mother:
The curse of hell from me shall you bear,
Such counsels you gave to me, O.'
OLD SCOTS VERSION
'Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid,
Edward, Edward?
Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid?
And quhy sae sad gang zee, O?'
'O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither:
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid:
And I had nae mair bot hee, O.'
'Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward:
Zour haukis bluid was never sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and free, O.'
'Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward:
Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ze drie, O.'
'O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas! and wae is mee, O!'
'And quhatten penance wul ze drie for that,
Edward, Edward?
And quhatten penance will ze drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me, O.'
'Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
Mither, mither:
Ile set my feit in zonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea, O.'
'And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha',
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wull ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha',
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
Mither, mither:
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee, O.'
'And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife
Quhan ze gang ovir the sea, O?'
'The warldis room, late them beg throw life,
Mither, mither:
The warldis room, let them beg throw life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.'
'And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me, O.'
'The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ze beir,
Sic counseils ze gave to me, O.'
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whistle blew
Whistle blew
Whistle blew
And blew.
Time to introspect came
And we all
Left the place.
Whistle blew
And it is no use.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song
O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad,
O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad;
Tho' father, and mother, and a' should gae mad,
Thy Jeanie will venture wi'ye, my lad.
But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-style and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin to me--
And come as ye were na comin to me--
O whistle &c.
At kirk, or at market whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd nae a flie;
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were na looking at me--
Yet look as ye were na looking at me.--
O whistle &c.
Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But court nae anither, tho' jokin ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me--
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me--
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Freight Train Blues
(c) i was born in dixie in a boomer's shack,
Just a little old shanty by a (g7) railroad (c) track,
The hummin' of the drivers was my lullaby,
And a freight train whistle taught me (g7) how to (c) cry.
Chorus:
(c) i've got the freight train blues, lordy, lordy, lordy,
Got 'em in the bottom of my (d7) ramblin' (g7) shoes,
And (c) when that whistle blows, i've gotta go, (c7)
(f) oh! lordy! (c) guess i'm never gonna (a7) lose,
The (d7) mean old (g7) freight train (c) blues.
(c) now my pappy was a fireman and my mammy dear,
Was the only daughter of an (g7) en-gin- (c) eer,
My sister married a brakeman and it ain't no joke,
Now it's a shame the way she keeps a (g7) good man (c) broke.
Chorus: (one word changed, that whistle, to, the whistle.)
(c) i've got the freight train blues, lordy, lordy, lordy,
Got 'em in the bottom of my (d7) ramblin' (g7) shoes,
And(c) when the whistle blows, i've gotta go, (c7)
(f) oh! lordy! (c) guess i'm never gonna (a7) lose,
The (d7) mean old (g7) freight train (c) blues.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hank Williams Version Of Freight Train Blues
Freight train blues written by john lair 1935. recorded by roy acuffs
Crazy tennesseans 1936, dynamite hatcher vocal, acuff mimics the train
Whistle.
This is hank williams 1939-40 version on the 10 cd box set from mercury.
(c) I was born in dixie in a boomers shack,
Just a little old shanty by a (g7) railroad (c) track,
The hummin of the drivers was my lullaby,
And a freight train whistle taught me (g7) how to (c) cry.
Chorus:
(c) Ive got the freight train blues, lordy, lordy, lordy,
Got em in the bottom of my (d7) ramblin (g7) shoes,
And (c) when that whistle blows, Ive gotta go, (c7)
(f) oh! lordy! (c) guess Im never gonna (a7) lose,
The (d7) mean old (g7) freight train (c) blues.
(c) now my pappy was a fireman and my mammy dear,
Was the only daughter of an (g7) en-gin- (c) eer,
My sister married a brakeman and it aint no joke,
Now its a shame the way she keeps a (g7) good man (c) broke.
Chorus: (one word changed, that whistle, to, the whistle.)
(c) Ive got the freight train blues, lordy, lordy, lordy,
Got em in the bottom of my (d7) ramblin (g7) shoes,
And(c) when the whistle blows, Ive gotta go, (c7)
(f) oh! lordy! (c) guess Im never gonna (a7) lose,
The (d7) mean old (g7) freight train (c) blues.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I can whistle with my fingers, especially if I have a whistle.
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Ain Bonnie Lass O' The Glen.
Ae blink o' the bonnie new mune,
Ay tinted as sune as she's seen,
Wad licht me to Meg frae the toun,
Tho' mony the brae-side between:
Ae fuff o' the saftest o' win's,
As wilyart it kisses the thorn,
Wad blaw me o'er knaggies an' linns--
To Meg by the side o' the burn!
My daddie's a laird wi' a ha';
My mither had kin at the court;
I maunna gang wooin' ava'--
Or any sic frolicsome sport.
Gin I'd wed--there's a winnock kept bye;
Wi' bodies an' gear i' her loof--
Gin ony tak her an' her kye,
Hell glunsh at himsel' for a coof!
My daddie's na doylt, tho' he's auld,
The winnock is pawkie an' gleg;
When the lammies are pit i' the fauld,
They're fear'd that I'm aff to my Meg.
My mither sits spinnin'--ae blink
O' a smile in her kind, bonnie 'ee;
She's minded o' mony a link
She, stowlins, took o'er the lea
To meet wi' my daddie himsel'
Tentie jinkin' by lea an' by shaw;
She fu's up his pipe then hersel',
So I may steal cannie awa'.
O leeze me o' gowany swaird,
An' the blink o' the bonnie new mune!
An' the cowt stown out o' the yaird
That trots like a burnie in June!
My Meg she is waitin' abeigh--
Ilk spunkie that flits through the fen
Wad jealously lead me astray
Frae my ain bonnie lass o' the glen!
My forbears may groan i' the mools,
My daddie look dour an' din;
Wee Love is the callant wha rules,
An' my Meg is the wifie I'll win!
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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