OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Black Riders & Other Lines/A man toiled on a burning road

This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place. The man cried out in rage, "Ah! Do not deride me, fool! I know you -- All day stuffing your belly, Burying your heart In grass and tender sprouts: It will not suffice you." But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.
# The Black Riders & Other Lines/"Think as I think," said a man

This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
"Think as I think," said a man, "Or you are abominably wicked; You are a toad."
And after I had thought of it, I said, "I will, then, be a toad."
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Black Riders & Other Lines/A man feared that he might find an assassin

This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
A man feared that he might find an assassin; Another that he might find a victim. One was more wise than the other.
# The Black Riders & Other Lines/A man saw a ball of gold in the sky

This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
A man saw a ball of gold in the sky; He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it -- It was clay.
Now this is the strange part: When the man went to the earth And looked again, Lo, there was the ball of gold. Now this is the strange part: It was a ball of gold. Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.
# The American Language/Chapter 46

Language begins, says Sayce, with sentences, not with single words. In a speech in process of rapid development, unrestrained by critical analysis, the tendency to sacrifice the integrity of words to the needs of the complete sentence is especially marked. One finds it clearly in American. Already we have examined various assimilation and composition forms: that&#146;n, use&#146;to, would&#146;a, them&#146;ere and so on. Many others are observable. Off&#146;n is a good example; it comes from off of and shows a preposition decaying to the form of a mere inflectional particle. One constantly hears I bought it off&#146;n John. Sort&#146;a, kind&#146;a and their like follow in the footsteps of would&#146;a. Usen&#146;t follows the analogy of don&#146;t and wouldn&#146;t, as in I didnt usen&#146;t to be. Would&#146;ve and should&#146;ve are widely used; Lardner commonly hears them as would of and should of. The neutral a-particle also appears in other situations, especially before way, as in that-a way and this-a way. It is found again in a tall, a liaison form of at all.
Various minor syntactical peculiarities may be noticed; an exhaustive study of them would afford materials for a whole volume. The use of all the further, as in, it was all the further I could go, seems to be American. It has bred many analogues, e. g., is that all the later it is? Another curious formation employs there with various negatives in an unusual way; it is illustrated in there cant anyone break me. Again, there is the use of in in such constructions as he caught in back of the plate, apparently suggested by in front. Yet again, there is the use of too and so as intensives, as in You are, too&#148; and You are, so.&#148; Yet again, there is the growing tendency to omit the verb of action in phrases indicating desire or intent, as in, he wants out&#148; for he wants to go out.&#148; This last, I believe, originated as a Pennsylvania localism, and probably owes its genesis to Pennsylvania German, but of late it has begun to travel, and I have received specimens from all parts of the country. In the form of Belgium wants in this protective arrangement it has even got into a leading editorial in the Chicago Tribune, the worlds greatest newspaper.

## Notes

* ↑ At all, by the way, is often displaced by any or none, as in &#147;he don&#146;t love her any&#148; and &#147;it didn&#146;t hurt me none.&#148;
* ↑ Nov. 10, 1919, p. 8.
# The American Language/Chapter 43

The only inflections of the noun remaining in English are those for number and for the genitive, and so it is in these two regions that the few variations to be noted in vulgar American occur. The rule that, in forming the plurals of compound nouns or noun-phrases, the -s shall be attached to the principal noun is commonly disregarded, and it goes at the end. Thus, I have two sons-in-law&#148; is never heard among the plain people; one always hears I have two son-in-laws.&#148; So with the genitive. I once overheard this: that umbrella is the young lady I go with&#146;s.&#148; Often a false singular is formed from a singular ending in s, the latter being mistaken for a plural. Chinee, Portugee and Japanee are familiar; I have also noted trapee, specie, tactic and summon (from trapeze, species, tactics and summons). Paradoxically, the word incidence is commonly misused for incident, as in &#147;he told an incidence. Here incidence (or incident) seems to be regarded as a synonym, not for happening, but for story. I have never heard &#147;he told of an incidence. The of is always omitted. The general disregard of number often shows itself when the noun is used as object. I have already quoted Lardner&#146;s &#147;some of the men has brung their wife along&#148;; in a popular magazine I lately encountered &#147;those book ethnologists&#133; can&#146;t see what is before their nose. Many similar examples might be brought forward.

## Notes

* ↑ This occasionally gets into print, along with tactic. See South American Travels, by Henry Stephens; New York, 1915, p. 114.
* ↑ It is possible that hoakum, the verb of which is to hoak, is a similar backformation from hoax.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Old King Coul

Old King Coul.
[This song is to be found in Herd's collection of 1776. Burns made some slight alterations on it for Johnson's Museum. Old king Coul, according to fabulous Scottish history, flourished in the fifth century, and was father of the giant Fin M'Coul. Coila (Ayrshire) was under his sway.]
Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; And old King Coul he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in fiddlers three; And every fiddler was a very good fiddler, And a very good fiddler was he. Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three: And there's no a lass in a' Scotland, Compar'd to our sweet Marjorie.
Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; Old King Coul, he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in pipers three: Ha-diddle, how-diddle, ha-diddle, how-diddle went the pipers three; Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three: And there's no a lass in a' the land, Compar'd to our sweet Marjorie.
Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; Old King Coul, he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in harpers three: Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers; Ha-diddle, how-diddle, ha-diddle, how-diddle, went the pipers;
Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three: And there's no a lass in a' the land, Compar'd to our sweet Marjorie.
Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; Old King Coul, he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in trumpeters three:
Twarra-rang, twarra-rang, went the trumpeters;
Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers; Ha-diddle, how-diddle, ha-diddle, how-diddle, went the pipers;
Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three:
And there's no a lass in a' Scotland,
Compar'd to sweet Marjorie.
Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; Old King Coul, he had a brown bowl, And they brought him in drummers three: Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, went the drummers; Twarra-rang, twarra-rang, went the trumpeters; Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers;
Ha-diddle, how-diddle, ha-diddle, how-diddle, went the pipers;
Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three: And there's no a lass in a' the land, Compar'd to sweet Marjorie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Old Nanny's Song

Old Nanny’s Song.
[From Hogg's "Brownie of Bodsbeck."]
The kye are rowting in the lone, The ewes bleat on the brae, O, what can ail my auld gudeman, He bides sae lang away!
An' aye the Robin sang by the wud, An' his note had a waesome fa', An' the corbie croupit in the clud, But he durstna light ava;
Till out cam' the wee grey moudiwort Frae 'neath the hollow stane, An' it howkit a grave for the auld grey head For the head lay a' its lane!
But I will seek out the robin's nest, An' the nest of the ouzel shy, For the siller hair that is beddit there Maun wave aboon the sky.
# The Book of Scottish Song/On Whitsunday morning

On Whitsunday morning.
["The Yellow-Hair'd Laddie" must have been a favourite tune in Ramsay's day. Here is another song which appears in the "Tea-Table Miscelleny," adapted to the same air. It is marked by simplicity and natural feeling.]
On Whitsunday morning I went to the fair; My yellow-hair'd laddie Was selling his ware; He gied me sic a blithe blink, With his bonnie black e'e, And a dear blink, and a fair blink, It was unto me.
I wist not what ailed me, When my laddie cam' in; The little wee sternies Flew aye frae my een; And the sweat it dropt down Frae my very e'e-bree, For my heart aye played Dunt, dunt, dunt, pittie pattie.
I wist not what ailed me, When I went to my bed, I tossed and I tumbled, And sleep frae me fled, Now, it's, sleeping and waking, He's aye in my e'e, And my heart aye plays Dunt, dunt, dunt, pittie pattie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/On the wild braes of Calder

On the wild braes of Calder.
[John Struthers.]
On the wild braes of Calder, I found a fair lily, All drooping with dew in the breath of the morn, A lily more fair never bloom'd in the valley, Nor rose, the gay garden of art to adorn. Sweet, sweet, was the fragrance this lily diffused, As blushing, all lonely, it rose on the view, But scanty its shelter, to reptiles exposed, And every chill blast from the cold north that blew.
Beneath yon green hill, a small field I had planted, Where the light leafy hazel hangs over the burn; And a flower such as this, to complete it, was wanted, A flower that might mark the gay season's return. Straight home to adorn it, I bore this fair lily. Where, at morn, and at even, I have watch'd it with care, And blossoming still, it is queen of the valley, The glory of spring, and the pride of the year.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Oh ono chri oh

Oh ono chri oh.
[From a collection of Jacobite Melodies, published at Edinburgh in 1823. This lamentation is said to relate to an incident connected with the massacre of the Macdonalds of Glenco, in 1691.]
Oh, was not I a weary wight? Oh ono chri oh! oh ono chri oh! Maid, wife, and widow, in one night! Oh ono chri oh! &c. When in my soft and yielding arms, Oh ono chri oh! &c. When most I thought him free from harms. Oh ono chri ch! &c.
Even at the dead time of the night, Oh ono chri oh! &c. They broke my bower, and slew my knight, Oh ono chri oh! &c. With ae lock of his jet black hair, Oh ono chri oh! &c. I'll tye my heart for ever mair; Oh ono chri oh! &c.
Nae sly-tongued youth, or flattering swain, Oh ono chri oh! &c. Shall e'er untye this knot again: Oh ono chri oh! &c. ​Thine, still, dear youth, that heart shall be, Oh ono chri oh! &c. Nor pant for aught save heaven and thee! Oh ono chri oh! &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Old Long Syne

Old Long Syne.
[The following are the earliest known verses to the old air of "Auld Lang Syne." They are from Watson's collection of Scots Poems, part III., published in 1716. The words "Old Long Syne," used here throughout, sound ludicrously to the ear accustomed to the Doric "Auld Lang Syne."]
PART FIRST.
Should old acquaintance be forgot, And never thought upon, The flames of love extinguished, And freely past and gone? Is thy kind heart now grown so cold In that loving breast of thine, That thou canst never once reflect On old long syne?
Where are thy protestations, Thy vows, and oaths, my dear, Thou mad'st to me and I to thee, In register yet clear? Is faith and truth so violate To th' immortal gods divine, That thou canst never once reflect On old long syne?
Is't Cupid's fears, or frosty cares, That makes thy spirits decay? Or is't some object of more worth That's stolen thy heart away? Or some desert makes thee neglect Him, so much once was thine, That thou canst never once reflect On old long syne?
Is't worldly cares, so desperate, That makes thee to despair? Is't that makes thee exasperate, And makes thee to forbear? If thou of that were free as I, Thou surely should be mine; If this were true, we should renew Kind old long syne.
But since that nothing can prevail, And all hope is in vain, From these dejected eyes of mine Still showers of tears shall rain: And though thou hast me now forgot, Yet I'll continue thine, And ne'er forget for to reflect On old long syne.
If e'er I have a house, my dear, That truly is call'd mine, And can afford but country cheer, Or ought that's good therein; Though thou wert rebel to the king, And beat with wind and rain, Assure thyself of welcome, love, For old long syne.
PART SECOND.
My soul is ravish'd with delight When you I think upon; All griefs and sorrows take their flight, And hastily are gone; The fair resemblance of your face So fills this breast of mine, No fate nor force can it displace, For old long syne. ​Since thoughts of you do banish grief, When I'm from you removed; And if in them I find relief, When with sad cares I'm moved, How doth your presence me affect With ecstasies divine, Especially when I reflect On old long syne.
Since thou hast robb'd me of my heart, By those resistless powers Which Madam Nature doth impart To those fair eyes of yours, With honour it doth not consist To hold a slave in pyne; Pray let your rigour, then, desist, For old long syne.
'Tis not my freedom I do crave, By deprecating pains; Sure, liberty he would not have Who glories in his chains: But this I wish—the gods would move That noble soul of thine To pity, if thou canst not love, For old long syne.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Oh hon a ri

Oh hon a ri.
[James Hogg.—Gaelic Air.]
Oh hon a ri! there's something wantin'; Oh hon a ri! I'm wearie; Nae young, blythe, and bonnie lad Comes o'er the knowe to cheer me. When the day wears away, Sad I look a' down the valley; Ilka soun', wi' a stoun', Sets my heart a thrillin'.
When I see the plover risin', Or the curlew wheelin', Then I trow some bonnie lad Is coming to my sheelin'. Why should I sit an' sigh, While the greenwood blooms sae bonnie? Laverocks sing, flow'rets spring, A' but me are cheery.
My wee cot is blest and happy; Oh 'tis neat and cleanly! Sweet the brier that blooms beside it; Kind the heart that's lanely. Come away, come away, Herd, or hind, or boatman laddie, I ha'e a cow, kid, and ewe, Gowd and gear, to gain ye.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Old Scotland

Old Scotland.
[George Allan. Set to Music by Peter Macleod in his "Original Melodies of Scotland."]
The breeze blows fresh, my gallant mates, Our vessel cleaves her way, Down ocean's depths, o'er heaven's heights, Through darkness and through spray. No loving moon shines out for us, No star our course to tell— And must we leave old Scotland thus? My native land, farewell!
Then fast spread out the flowing sheet Give welcome to the wind! Is there a gale we'd shrink to meet, When treachery's behind? The foaming deep our couch will be, The storm our vesper bell, The low'ring heaven our canopy, My native land, farewell!
Away, away across the main, We'll seek some happier clime, Where daring is not deem'd a stain, Nor loyalty a crime. Our hearts are wrung, our minds are toss'd, Wild as the ocean's swell; A kingdom and a birthright lost! Old Scotland, fare thee well!
# The Book of Scottish Song/On the Death of Burns

On the Death of Burns.
[Richard Gall.—Tune, "O, wat ye wha's in yon toun."]
There's waefu' news in yon town, As e'er the warld heard ava; There's dolefu' news in yon town, For Robbie's gane an' left them a'.
How blythe it was to see his face Come keeking by the hallan wa'! He ne'er was sweir to say the grace, But now he's gane an' left them a'.
He was the lad wha made them glad, Whanever he the reed did blaw: The lasses there may drap a tear, Their funny friend is now awa'.
Nae daffin now in yon town; The browster-wife gets leave to draw An' drink hersel', in yon town, Sin' Robbie gaed an' left them a'.
The lawin's canny counted now, The bell that tinkled ne'er will draw, The king will never get his due, Sin' Robbie gaed and left them a'.
The squads o' chiels that lo'ed a splore On winter e'enings, never ca; Their blythesome moments a' are o'er, Sin' Robbie's gane an' left them a'.
Frae a' the een in yon town I see the tears o' sorrow fa', An' weel they may, in yon town, Nae canty sang they hear ava.
Their e'ening sky begins to lour, The murky clouds thegither draw; 'Twas but a blink afore a shower, Ere Robbie gaed and left them a'. ​The landwart hizzy winna speak; Ye'll see her sitting like a craw Amang the reek, while rattons squeak— Her dawtit bard is now awa'.
But could I lay my hand upon His whistle, keenly wad I blaw, An' screw about the auld drone, An' lilt a lightsome spring or twa.
If it were sweetest aye whan wat, Then wad I ripe my pouch, an' draw, An' steep it weel amang the maut, As lang's I'd saxpence at my ca'.
For warld's gear I dinna care, My stock o' that is unco sma'. Come, friend, we'll pree the barley-bree To his braid fame that's now awa'.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Omnia vincit amor

Omnia vincit amor.
[From the Tea-Table Miscellany.]
As I went forth to view the spring, Which Flora had adorned In raiment fair; now every thing The rage of winter scorned; I cast mine eye, and did espy A youth who made great clamour; And drawing nigh I heard him cry, Ah! Omnia vincit amor.
​Upon his breast he lay along, Hard by a murm'ring river, And mournfully his doleful song With sighs he did deliver; Ah! Jeany's face was comely grace, Her locks that shine like lammer, With burning rays have cut my days; For Omnia vincit amor.
Her glancy een like comets sheen, The morning sun outshining, Have caught my heart in Cupid's net, And makes me die with pining. Durst I complain, nature's to blame, So curiously to frame her, Whose beauties rare make me, with care, Cry, Omnia vincit amor.
Ye crystal streams that swiftly glide, Be partners of my mourning, Ye fragrant fields and meadows wide, Condemn her for her scorning; Let every tree a witness be, How justly I may blame her; Ye chanting birds, note these my words, Ah! Omnia vincit amor.
Had she been kind as she was fair, She long had been admired, And been ador'd for virtues rare, Wh' of life now makes me tired. Thus said, his breath began to fail, He could not speak, but stammer; He sigh'd full sore, and said no more, But Omnia vincit amor.
When I observ'd him near to death, I run in haste to save him, But quickly he resign'd his breath, So deep the wound love gave him. Now for her sake this vow I'll make, My tongue shall aye defame her, While on his hearse I'll write this verse, Ah! Omnia vncit amor.
Straight I consider'd in my mind Upon the matter rightly, And found, though Cupid he be blind, He proves in pith most mighty. For warlike Mars, and thund'ring Jove, And Vulcan with his hammer, Did ever prove the slaves of love; For Omnia vincit amor.
Hence we may see the effects of love, Which gods and men keep under, That nothing can his bounds remove, Or torments break asunder: Nor wise nor fool need go to school To learn this from his grammar: His heart's the book where he's to look For Omnia vincit amor.
# The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night/The Falcon and the Birds

Second-level story, contained in The Fox and the Crow
THE FALCON AND THE BIRDS.
There was once a falcon who was a cruel tyrant in the days of his youth, Night clii.so that the beasts of prey of the air and of the earth feared him and none was safe from his mischief; and many were the instances of his tyranny, for he did nothing but oppress and injure all the other birds. As the years passed over him, he grew weak and his strength failed, so that he was oppressed with hunger; but his cunning increased with the waning of his strength and he redoubled in his endeavour and determined to go to the general rendezvous of the birds, that he might eat their leavings, and in this manner he gained his living by cunning, whenas he could do so no longer by strength and violence.
Return to The Fox and the Crow.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Boys' Life of Mark Twain/front matter

Books by
ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE
For Young Readers
THE BOYS' LIFE OF MARK TWAIN
HOLLOW TREE NIGHTS AND DAYS
THE HOLLOW TREE AND DEEP-WOODS BOOK
THE HOLLOW TREE SNOWED-IN BOOK
Small books of several stories each, selected from the above Hollow Tree books:
HOW MR. DOG GOT EVEN
HOW MR. RABBIT LOST HIS TAIL
MR. RABBIT'S BIG DINNER
MAKING UP WITH MR. DOG
MR. 'POSSUM'S GREAT BALLOON TRIP
WHEN JACK RABBIT WAS A LITTLE BOY
For Grown-ups
TH. NAST: His Period and His Pictures
THE SHIP-DWELLERS (Humorous travel)
THE TENT-DWELLERS (Humorous camping)
FROM VAN-DWELLER TO COMMUTER (Humorous, home life)
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
# The Boys' Life of Mark Twain/Preface

PREFACE
This is the story of a boy, born in the humblest surroundings, reared almost without schooling, and amid benighted conditions such as to-day have no existence, yet who lived to achieve a world-wide fame; to attain honorary degrees from the greatest universities of America and Europe; to be sought by statesmen and kings; to be loved and honored by all men in all lands, and mourned by them when he died. It is the story of one of the world's very great men—the story of Mark Twain.