OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/My luve's in Germany

My luve’s in Germany.
[This, to the tune of "Ye Jacobites by name," was first published as a single sheet song by N. Stewart & Co., Edinburgh, and was said to have been written by a lady on the death of an officer, in 1794. Hector Macneill, however, claimed it as his own.]
My luve's in Germanie; Send him hame, send him hame: My luve's in Germanie; Send him hame. My luve's in Germanie, Fighting brave for royalty; He may ne'er his Jeanie see, Send him hame, send him hame, He may ne'er his Jeanie see; Send him hame.
He's as brave as brave can be; Send him hame, send him hame; Our faes are ten to three; Send him hame. Our faes are ten to three; He maun either fa' or flee, In the cause of loyalty; Send him hame, send him hame; In the cause of loyalty; Send him hame.
Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, Bonnie dame, winsome dame; Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, Winsome dame. Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, But he fell in Germanie, Fighting brave for loyalty Mournfu' dame, mournfu' dame; Fighting brave for loyalty, Mournfu' dame.
He'll ne'er come ower the sea; Willie's slain, Willie's slain; He'll ne'er come ower the sea; Willie's gane! He will ne'er come ower the sea, To his luve and ain countrie. This warld's nae mair for me; Willie's gane, Willie's gane; This warld's nae mair for me: Willie's gane!
# The Book of Scottish Song/My jo Janet

My jo Janet.
[This appears in Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany, but is probably of older date. The tune of "My jo Janet" is in some old authorities called "The Keeking Glass."]
Sweet sir, for your courtesie, When ye come by the Bass, then, For the love ye bear to me, Buy me a keekin' glass, then. Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet; There ye'll see your bonnie sell, My jo Janet.
Keekin' in the draw-well clear, What if I fa' in, sir? Then a' my kin' will say and swear I droun'd myself for sin, sir. Hand the better by the brae, Janet, Janet; Haud the better by the brae, My jo Janet.
Gude sir, for your courtesie, Comin' through Aberdeen, then, For the love ye bear to me, Buy me a pair o' sheen, then. ​Clout the auld—the new are dear, Janet, Janet; Ae pair may gain ye hauf a year, My jo Janet.
But, what if, dancin' on the green, And skippin' like a maukin, They should see my clouted sheen, Of me they will be taukin'. Dance aye laigh, and late at e'en, Janet, Janet; Syne a' their fauts will no be seen, My jo Janet.
Kind sir, for your courtesie, When ye gae to the cross, then, For the love ye bear to me, Buy me a pacin' horse, then, Pace upon your spinnin' wheel, Janet, Janet; Pace upon your spinnin' wheel, My jo Janet.
My spinnin' wheel is auld and stiff, The rock o't winna stand, sir; To keep the temper-pin in tiff Employs richt aft my hand, sir. Mak' the best o't that ye can, Janet, Janet; But like it never wale a man, My jo Janet.
# The Book of Scottish Song/My mither men't

My mither men't.
[Alex. Rodger.— Air, "The Cornclips."]
My mither men't my auld breeks, An' wow! but they were duddy, And sent me to etg Mally shod At Robin Tamson's smiddy; The smiddy stands beside the burn That wimples through the clachan, I never yet gae by the door, But aye I fa' a-laughin'.
For Robin was a walthy carle, An' had ae bonnie dochter, Yet ne'er wad let her tak' a man, Though mony lads had sought her; And what think ye o' my exploit?— The time our mare was shoeing, I shppit up beside the lass, An' briskly fell a-wooing.
An' aye she e'ed my auld breeks, The time that we sat crackin', Quo' I, my lass, ne'er mind the clouts, I've new anes for the makin'; But gin ye'll just come hame wi' me, An' lea' the carle, your father, Ye'se get my breeks to keep in trim, Mysel', an' a' thegither.
'Deed, lad, quo' she, your offer's fair, I really think I'll tak' it, Sae, gang awa', get out the mare, We'll baith slip on the back o't, For gin I wait my father's time, I'll wait till I be fifty; But na;—I'll marry in my prime, An' mak' a wife most thrifty.
Wow! Robin was an angry man, At tyning o' his dochter: Through a' the kintra-side he ran, An' far an' near he sought her; But when he cam' to our fire-end, An' fand us baith thegither, Quo' I, gudeman, I've ta'en your baira, An' ye may tak' my mither.
Auld Robin gim'd an' sheuk his pow, Guid sooth! quo' he, you're merry, But I'll just tak' ye at your word, An' end this hurry-burry; So Robin an' our auld wife Agreed to creep thegither; Now, I ha'e Robin Tamson's pet, An' Robin has my mither.
# The Book of Scottish Song/My heid is like to rend

My heid is like to rend.
[William Motherwell.—This almost even surpasses the same author's "Jeanie Morrison" in passion and pathos.]
My heid is like to rend, Willie, My heart is like to break— I'm wearin' aff my feet, Willie, I'm dyin' for your sake! Oh lay your cheek to mine, Willie Your hand on my briest-bane— Oh say ye'll think on me, Willie, When I am deid and gane!
It's vain to comfort me, Willie, Sair grief maun ha'e its will— But let me rest upon your briest, To sab and greet my fill. Let me sit on your knee, Willie, Let me shed by your hair, And look into the face, Willie, I never shall see mair!
I'm sittin' on your knee, Willie, For the last time in my life— A puir heart-broken thing, Willie, A mither, yet nae wife. Ay, press your hand upon my heart, And press it mair and mair— Or it will burst the silken twine Sae strang is its despair!
Oh wae's me for the hour, Willie, When we thegither met— Oh wae's me for the time, Willie, That our first tryst was set! Oh wae's me for the loanin' green Where we were wont to gae— And wae's me for the destinie, That gart me luve thee sae!
Oh! dinna mind my words, Willie, I downa seek to blame— But oh! it's hard to live, Willie, And dree a warld's shame! Het tears are hailin' ower your cheek, And hailin' ower your chin; Why weep ye sae for worthlessness, For sorrow and for sin?
I'm weary o' this warld, Willie,
And sick wi' a' I see— I canna live as I ha'e lived, Or be as I should be. But fauld unto your heart, Willie, The heart that still is thine— And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek, Ye said was red langsyne.
A stoun' gaes through my heid, Willie,
A sair stoun' through my heart— Oh! haud me up and let me kiss Thy brow ere we twa pairt. ​Anither, and anither yet!— How fast my life-strings break! Fareweel! fareweel! through yon kirk-yard Step lichtly for my sake!
The lav'rock in the lift, Willie, That lilts far ower our heid, Will sing the morn as merrilie Abune the clay-cauld deid; And this green turf we're sittin' on, Wi' dew-draps shimmerin' sheen, Will hap the heart that luvit thee As warld has seldom seen.
But oh! remember me, Willie, On land where'er ye be— And oh! think on the leal, leal heart, That ne'er luvit ane but thee! And oh! think on the cauld, cauld mools, That file my yellow hair— That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin, Ye never sall kiss mair!
# The Book of Scottish Song/My love is but a lassie

My love is but a lassie.
[This is an old song, which received some touches from Burns for Johnson's Museum. Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe says that the old title of the air was "Put up your dagger, Jamie." The words to this are in "Vox Borealis, or the Northern Discovery," 1641.
"Put up thy dagger, Jamie, And all thing shall be mended; Bishops shall fall, no, not at all, When the parliament is ended.
"Which never was intended But only for to flame thee, We've gotten the game, We'll keep the same,— Put up thy dagger, Jamie."
The tune was also in former times used as a dancing-tune, and called "Lady Badinscoth's Reel."]
My love, she's but a lassie yet; My love, she's but a lassie yet; I'll let her stand a year or twa; She'll no be half sae saucy yet.
I rue the day I sought her, O; I rue the day I sought her, O; Wha gets her, needna say he's woo'd, But he may say he's bought her, O.
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet, Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet, Gae seek for pleasure where ye will— But here I never miss'd it yet.
We're a' dry wi' drinking o't; We're a' dry wi' drinking o't; The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife, And couldna preach for thinking o't.
# The Book of Scottish Song/My love she's but a lassie

My love she's but a lassie.
[James Hogg.—For the original song of "My love she's but a lassie yet," see page 512.]
My love she's but a lassie yet, A lightsome lovely lassie yet; It scarce wad do To sit an' woo Down by the stream sae glassy yet, But there's a braw time coming yet, When we may pang a-roaming yet; An' hint wi' glee O' joys to be, When fa's the modest gloaming yet.
She's neither proud nor saucy yet, She's neither plump nor gaucy yet; But just a jinking, Bonnie blinking, Hilty-skilty lassie yet. But O, her artless smile's mair sweet Than hinny or than marmalete; An' right or wrang, Ere it be lang, I'll bring her to a parley yet.
I'm jealous o' what blesses her, The very breeze that kisses her, The flowery beds On which she treads, Though wae for ane that misses her. ​Then O to meet my lassie yet, Up in yon glen sae grassy yet; For all I see Are nought to me, Save her that's but a lassie yet!
# The Book of Scottish Song/My first and last love

My first and last love.
[James Macdonald.—Here printed for the first time.]
O morning time o' happiness, O gonden time o' glee, When light o' heart an' fu' o' hope I roam'd the lily lee, An' as I pu'd ilk bonnie flower amang the sparklin' dew, I clasp'd it to my breast and said, O Jeanie, 'tis like you! The pride o' May, the pink o' June, the gem o' summer's bowers Were nae sae sweet by hauf as thee, my winsome queen o' flowers.
Thy cheek mair saft than eider down, an' white as driven snaw Thine e'e o' love, thy bonnie locks, in happy dreams, yet fa' Upon my cauld and broken heart, an' glow in fairer sheen Than a' the flowers that ever grew on Endrick's fairy green. Thy life was mine, my life was thine, yet a' was but a spell— The hour is past,—my bleeding heart can only sigh, Farewell.
# The Book of Nullification

THE BOOK
OF
NULLIFICATION.
BY
A SPECTATOR OF THE PAST.
CHARLESTON—1830.
The style in which the Jewish history is written in the Scriptures, is one peculiarly adapted to convey information to all classes of readers. The wise, and the unlearned, understand it with equal facility; and even those who run may read and comprehend. The following article is clothed in this historical garb purely with a view to address the understandings of all our citizens, and to exhibit to them in terms the most simple, the conduct of their rulers for several years past.
A spectator of the past
* Chapter I
* Chapter II
* Chapter III
* Chapter IV
* Chapter V
* Chapter VI
* Chapter VII
* Chapter VIII
* Chapter IX
* Chapter X
This work was published before January 1, 1929 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 95 years or less since publication.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Rubinstein Staccato Etude

R. Nathaniel Dett
THE RUBINSTEIN STACCATO ETUDE
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Teacher

THE TEACHER
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Time to Die

Ray G. Dandridge
TIME TO DIE
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/To O. E. A.

TO O. E. A.
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Washer-Woman

THE WASHER-WOMAN
A great swart cheek and the gleam of tears,
The flutter of hopes and the shadow of fears,
And all day long the rub and scrub
With only a breath betwixt tub and tub.
Fool! Thou hast toiled for fifty years
And what hast thou now but thy dusty tears?
In silence she rubbed . . . But her face I had seen,
Where the light of her soul fell shining and clean.
# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Wife-Woman

THE WIFE-WOMAN
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/Tired

TIRED
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Scarlet Woman

THE SCARLET WOMAN
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# The Book of American Negro Poetry/The Tired Worker

THE TIRED WORKER
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# The Book of Abraham, Its Authenticity Established.../Title Page

THE BOOK OF ABRAHAM.
ITS AUTHENTICITY ESTABLISHED AS A DIVINE AND ANCIENT RECORD.
WITH COPIOUS REFERENCES TO ANCIENT AND MODERN AUTHORITIES.
BY ELDER GEO. REYNOLDS. 1879.
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH:
DESERET NEWS PRINTING AND PUBLISHING ESTABLISHMENT.
# The Book of Abraham, Its Authenticity Established.../Contents

CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.--THE DISCOVERY AND SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF THE MUMMIES.--TRANSLATION OF THE PAPYRUS BY THE PROPHET JOSEPH SMITH.
CHAPTER II.
ABRAHAM'S EARLY LIFE IN UR.-- HUMAN SACRIFICES.--CAUSES WHICH LED ABRAHAM TO LEAVE CHALDEA.--CONFIRMATORY TESTIMONY OF JOSHUA, JOSEPHUS, THE BOOK OF JUDITH, ETC.
CHAPTER III.
ABRAHAM AS A PREACHER OF RIGHTEOUSNESS.--THE TESTIMONY OF PAUL.--HIS MINISTRY IN UR AND HABAN.--GOD'S COVENANT WITH HIM BASED ON THE GOSPEL.
CHAPTER IV.
ABRAHAM IN EGYPT.--CONFIRMATORY STATEMENTS OF JOSEPHUS, NICOLAUS OF DAMASCUS, AND OTHERS.--ABRAHAM'S INFLUENCE ON THE RELIGIONS OF EGYPT, PERSIA AND HINDOOSTAN.--TRACES OF GOSPEL TEACHING IN THE MYTHOLOGIES OF EGYPT, PERSIA, CHALDEA, GREECE AND ROME.--FIRST DEPARTURES FROM THE TRUE FAITH.--THE EGYPTIAN WORSHIP OF ADAM AND THE PATRIARCHS.--THE BOOK OF THE DEAD.
CHAPTER V.
THE ANCIENT PAGAN MYSTERIES.--THEIR HISTORY AND INTENT.--THE CIRCULAR PLATE IN THE BOOK OF ABRAHAM.--ITS PURPORT AND USE.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CHRONLOGY OF THE ANCIENTS.--A KEY TO ITS MYSTERIES.--THE ANTEDILUVIAN MONARCHS.--JOSEPHUS AND CHINESE CHRONOLOGY.--ABRAHAM ON PHARAOH'S THRONE.--HE MAKES A TREATY ENDING A ONE HUNDREAD YEARS WAR.--CHEOPS.
CHAPTER VII.
THE MEANS BY WHICH ABRAHAM WAS TAUGHT ASTRONOMY.--THE ABRAHAMIC SYSTEM OF ASTRONOMY.--FROM THE EARTH TO KOLOB.--THE SYSTEM PROVEN TRUE BY RECENT RESEARCH.--TESTIMONY OR VARIOUS AUTHORS.--ALCYONE.--MR. PETRIE'S TESTIMONY.--ADMISSIONS THAT THE ANCIENTS WERE TAUGHT SCIENTIFIC TRUTHS BY DIVINE REVELATION.
CHAPTER VIII.
ABRAHAM AS A PYRAMID BUILDER.--PHILITION.--THE USES OF THE PYRAMIDS.--THE COFFER A BAPTISMAL FONT.-- SYMBOLISM IN BAPTISM FRO THE DEAD.--THE SACRED CUBIT.--"ONE DAY TO A CUBIT."--ALCYONE.--THE SUN'S DISTANCE.--PYRAMID REFERENCES TO ASTRONOMICAL TRUTHS.--SUMMARY OF PYRAMID REFERENCES.
CHAPTER IX.
SCIENTIFIC OBJECTIONS TO THE PROPHET'S TRANSLATION OF THE BOOK OF ABRAHAM.--F. DEVERIA'S TRANSLATION.--SAMPLES OF ANCIENT LANGUAGES IN THE BOOK OF ABRAHAM.--WORD ROOTS.--LACK OF CHRONOLOGIC SEQUENCE.--CONCLUSION.
# The Book of Betty Barber

THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER
“THIRTEEN-FOURTEENTHS BOWED HIS VERY BEST BOW.”
THE BOOK OF BETTY BARBER
by MAGGIE BROWNE
with illustrations by ARTHUR RACKHAM, A.R.W.S.
BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
PRINTED AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS LONDON ENGLAND
GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING
A fair little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work, and folded it right, And said, “Dear Work! Good-night! Good-night!”
Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying, “Caw! caw!” on their way to bed; She said, as she watched their curious flight, “Little black things! Good-night! Good-night!”
The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed: The sheep’s “Bleat! bleat!” came over the road: All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, “Good little Girl! Good-night! Good-night!”
She did not say to the Sun, “Good-night!” Though she saw him there, like a ball of light; For she knew he had God’s time to keep All over the world, and never could sleep.
The tall, pink fox-glove bowed his head— The violets curtsied, and went to bed; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favourite prayer.
And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful Sun, “Good-morning! Good-morning! our work is begun.”
Lord Houghton.
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 Book of Scottish Song/O gin ye were but mine

O gin ye were but mine.
Oh! gin ye were but mine, lassie, Oh! gin ye were but mine, lassie, I'd be the happiest man alive, I'd lead a life divine, lassie. There's something in that bonnie face, I never saw before, lassie, Your actions a' ha'e sic a grace, I gaze, and I adore, lassie! Oh! gin ye were, &c.
Though ither eyes may brilliance dart, And bright as diamonds roll, lassie! There's nane but yours shoot through my heart, An' soften a' my soul, lassie! Oh! gin ye were, &c.
Each motion shows some grace that's new, That fascinates my eyes, lassie! And though your charms I daily view, I see them with surprise, lassie! Oh! gin ye were, &c.
Sweet is the spring, and sweet the rose, When moisten'd by the shower, lassie! Bright on the thorn the dew-drop glows, At morn's refulgent hour, lassie,— Oh! gin ye were, &c.
But purer, brighter far than these Thou art, and charming more, lassie! Than tongue can tell—I wond'ring gaze— I gaze and I adore, lassie!
# The Book of Scottish Song/O gude ale comes

O gude ale comes.
[This happy Bacchanalian ditty is an old song, amended by Burns for Johnson's Museum. In Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, another version is given, which is said to be the "original of Burns's," but, of course, it is merely a fabrication by Allan Cunningham. The song is adapted to an old tune called "The Bottom of the Punchbowl." In some collections we see it marked to the tune of "The Happy Farmer," but whether these are different tunes or different names of the same tune we cannot say.]
O gude ale comes, and gude ale goes; Gude ale gars me sell my hose, Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon; Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
I had sax owsen in a pleuch, And they drew teuch and weel eneuch: I drank them a' just ane by ane; Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
Gude ale hauds me bare and busy, Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie, Stand i' the stool, when I ha'e done; Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
O gude ale comes, and gude ale goes; Gude ale gars me sell my hose, Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon; Gude ale keeps my heart aboon.
# The Book of Scottish Song/O merry row

O merry row.
[The words chiefly written, and the music partly composed, by John Parry. The music is founded on an ancient Northumbrian melody.]
"O merry row! O merry row The bonnie, bonnie bark: Bring back my love to calm my woe, Before the night grows dark! My Donald wears a bonnet blue, A bonnet blue, a bonnet blue, A snow-white rose upon it too, A Highland lad is he. Then merry row, O merry row The bonnie, bonnie bark! O merry row! O merry, merry row, And bring him safe to me!" ​As on the pebbly beach I strayed, Where rocks and shoals prevail, I thus o'erheard a Lowland maid Her absent love bewail. A storm arose—the waves ran high— The waves ran high—the waves ran high— And dark and murky was the sky— The wind did loudly roar. But merry rowed, merry rowed The bonnie, bonnie bark! O merry rowed the bonnie, bonnie bark, And brought her love on shore!
# The Book of Scottish Song/O give me the ear

O give me the ear.
[J. Mitchell, Paisley. Air, "Oran an Oig."—This originally appeared in a small book of Proverbs published by Mr. John Neilson of Paisley.]
Oh give me the ear that is deaf to the ills, Which the slanderer's tongue has in store; And the eye that the moisture of pity distills, When the good and the great are no more. O give me the tongue that disdains to repeat What envy so glibly will tell, But responds to our joys when in friendship we meet Bound the board, care's dark thoughts to dispell.
O give me the heart that can bleed for the woes Which another is fated to feel— And the hand that on penury freely bestows, Yet the gift will as nobly conceal. Give me these, and I vow in my journey through life, Care ne'er will a shadow impart; If Nature bestow on my friend and my wife, Such an ear, such a tongue, such a heart.
# The Book of Scottish Song/O saft is the blink o' thine e'e

O saft is the blink o’ thine e’e.
[From "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet."]
O saft is the blink o' thine e'e, lassie, Saft is the blink o' thine e'e; An' a bonnie wee sun glimmers on its blue orb As kindly it glints upon me.
The ringlets that twine round thy brow, lassie, Are gowden as gowden may be; Like the wee curly cluds that play round the sun When he's just gaun to drap in the sea.
Thou hast a bonnie wee mou', lassie, As sweet as a body may pree; An' fondly I'll pree that wee hinny mou', E'en though thou should'st frown upon me.
Thou hast a lily white hand, lassie, As fair as a body may see; An' saft is the touch o' that wee genty hand, At eve when thou partest wi' me.
Thy thoughts are sae haly and pure, lassie, Thy heart is sae kind and sae free; That the bright sun o' heaven is nae pleased wi' himsel', Till he glasses himsel' in thine e'e.
O, thou art a' thing to me, lassie, O thou art a' thing to me; What care I although fortune should frown, Gin I gain the blythe blink o' thine e'e.
# The Book of Scottish Song/O hast thou forgotten

O hast thou forgotten.
[James Home.—Here first printed.]
O hast thou forgotten the birk tree's shade, And this warm true heart of mine, Mary? O hast thou forgotten the promise made When so fondly 'twas press'd to thine, Mary?
O hast thou forgotten—what I ne'er can forget— The hours we have spent together?— Those hours which, like stars, in my memory yet Shine on as brightly as ever?
O hast thou forgotten that moment of bless— So fraught with the heart's full feeling— As we clung to each other i' the last embrace, The soul of love revealing?
O hast thou forgotten that sacred spot, Where the farewell word was spoken? Is the sigh and the tear and all forgot,— Is the vow and the promise broken?
Then, for ever farewell, thou false fair one! Though other arms caress thee,— Though a fairer youth thy heart should gain, And a smoother tongue should bless thee;—
Yet never again on thy warm, young cheek Will breathe a soul more warm than mine; And never again will a lover speak Of love more pure to thine!
# The Book of Scottish Song/O lassie I lo'e dearest

O lassie I lo’e dearest.
[J. Burtt.]
O lassie I lo'e dearest! Mair fair to me than fairest, Mair rare to me than rarest; How sweet to think o' thee; When blythe the blue e'ed dawnin' Steals saftly o'er the lawnin', And furls night's sable awnin', I love to think o' thee.
An' while the honied dew-drap Still trembles at the flower-tap, The fairest bud I pu't up, An' kiss't for sake o' thee; An' when by stream, or fountain, In glen, or on the mountain, The lingering moments counting, I pause an' think o' thee.
When the sun's red-rays are streamin', Warm on the meadow beamin', Or o'er the loch wild gleamin', My heart is fu' o' thee. An' tardy-footed gloamin', Out o'er the hills slow comin', Still finds me lanely roamin', And thinkin' still o' thee.
When soughs the distant billow, An' night blasts shake the willow, Stretch'd on my lanely pillow My dreams are a' o' thee. Then think when frien's caress thee, O think when cares distress thee, O think when pleasures bless thee, O' him that thinks o' thee!
# The Book of Scottish Song/O love delights

O love delights.
[William Chalmers.—Tune, "Lewie Gordon."—Here first printed.]
O love delights in sunny bower, 'Mid sunny rays, like summer flower; But when the storms o' winter blaw, Its fairest beauties fade awa'.
The rose in youth may please awhile, And youthful days wi' joy beguile, The lily, too, with snowy crest, May lean upon the rose's breast. But love delights, &c.
What though the rose's blushes fade, And lilies droop beneath the shade, In dormant life they still remain, To grow, to bud, to bloom again. But love delights, &c.