OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Sair sair was my heart (1826)

Sair sair was my heart;
To which are added,
The hero's orphant girls,
The lass o' Ballochmyle,
Allister M'Allister,
The Highland Plaid.
STIRLING: Printed by W. Macnie.
1826.
* Sair Sair was my Heart
* The Hero's Orphant Girls
* The Lass o' Ballochmyle
* Allister M'Allister
* The Highland Plaid
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
# Allister M'Allister

* "Allister M'Allister", in Allister M'Allister (1823), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Allister M'Allister", in Sair sair was my heart (1826), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Allister M'Allister", in Sair sair was my heart (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Allister M'Allister", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# Sair sair was my heart (1)/The Highland Plaid

THE HIGHLAND PLAID.
Lowland lassie, wilt thou go Where the hills are clad wi' snow, Where beneath the icy steep, The handy shepherd tends his sheep? Itl nor wae shall thee betide, When row'd within my Highland Plaid.
​Soon the voice of cheery spring, Will gar a’ our plantings ring; Soon our bonny heather braes, Will put on their summer claes: On the mountain’s sunny side, We’ll lean us on my Highland Plaid.
When the summer spreads the flowers, Busks the glen in leafy bowers, Then we’ll seek the cauler shed. Lean us on the primrose bed; While the burning hours preside, I’ll screen thee wi' ray Highland Plaid.
Then we’ll leave the sheep and goat, I will launch the bonny boat, Skim the loch in cantie glee, Rest the oars to pleasure thee; When chilly breezes sweep, the tide, I'll hap thee wi' my Highland Plaid.
Lowland lads may dress mair fine, Woo in words mair saft than mine; Lowland lads hae mair o' art, A' my boast’s an honest heart, Whilk shall ever be my pride, O row thee wi’ my Highland Plaid!
Bonnie lad ye’ve been sae leal, My heart would break at our fareweel; Lang your love has made me fain, Tak me—tak me for your ain! ‘Cross the Frith away they glide, Young Donald and his Lowland bride.}}
FINIS.
# Sair sair was my heart (1)/Allister M'Allister

ALLISTER M’ALLISTER.
O Allister M'Allister, Your chanter sets us a'astir Then to your, bags and blaw wi' bir, We ll dance the Highland fling.
Now Allister has tun’d his pipes, And thrang as bumbees frae their bykes, The lads and lasses loup the dykes, And gather on the green. O Allister McAllister! &c.
The miller, Hab was fidging fain, To dance the Highland fling his lane, He lap as high as Elspa's wame, The like was never seen, As round about the ring he whu's, And cracks his thumb, and shakes his duds Thee meal flew frae his tail in cluds, And blinded a’ their een. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Nicest rackle handed smiddy Jock, A’blacken'd o er wi’ co m and smoke, Wi' shachalin blear-e'ed Bess did yoke— That slaverin-gabbit quean. He shook his doublet in the wund His feet like hanmmers struck the grund, ​The very moudiwarts were stunn'd, Nor kend what it could mean. O Allister M'Allister &c.
Now wanton Willie was nae blate, For he got haud o’ winsome Kate Come here you he I'll shew the gate To dance the highland fling. The Highland fling he danced wi’ glee, And lap as he was gaun to flee, Kate bak'd and babb'd sae bonnilie And wipt it neat and clean. O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Now Allister has done his best, And Veary houghs are wantin rest, Besides they sair wi' drouth were strest, Wi' dancing sae I ween. I true the gantress got a lift And round the bicker flew like drift, And Allister that very night Could scarcely stand his lane, O Allister M'Allister &c.
# Sair sair was my heart (1)/The hero's orphant girls

THE HERO'S ORPHANT GIRLS.
Oh Lady buy these budding flow’rs, For I am sad and wet and weary, I gather'd them ere break of day. When all was lonely still and dreary;
And long I’ve sought to sell them here, To purchase clothes and food and dwelling For Valor's wretched Orphan girls, Poor me and my young Sister Ellen,
Oh buy my flow’rs they're fair and fresh, As mine and mornin» tears could keep them, To morrow’s sun will view them dead, And I shall scarcely live to weep them.
Yet in this sweet bud if nurs'd with care, Soon into fulaces would be swelling; And nurtur’d by some gen’rous hand, So would my little Sister Ellen.
No one has bought of me to day. And right is now the Town o'er-shading, ​And I like these poor drooping flow’rs, Unnotic'd and unwept and fading.
My soul is strugling to be free, It loaths its wretched earthly dwelling; My limbs refuse to bear their load, Oh, God protect lone orphan Ellen.
# The hero's orphant girls

* "The hero's orphant girls", in Sair sair was my heart (1826), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The hero's orphant girls", in Sair sair was my heart (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
# Sair sair was my heart (1826)/The hero's orphant girls

THE HERO'S ORPHANT GIRLS:
Oh Lady buy these budding flow'rs, For I am sad and wet and weary, I gather'd them ere break of day, When all was lonely still and dreary;
And long I've sought to sell them here, To purchase clothes and food and dwelling, For Valor's wretched Orphan girls, Poor me and my young Sister Ellen.
Oh buy my flow'rs they're fair and fresh, As mine and morning tears could keep them. To morrow's sun will view them dead, And I shall scarcely live to weep them.
Yet in this sweet bud if nurs'd with care, Soon into fulness would be swelling; And nurtur'd by some gen'rous hand, So would my little Sister Ellen.
No one has bought of me to day, And night is now the Town o'er-shading, ​And I like these poor drooping flow'rs, Unnotic'd and unwept am fading.
My soul is struggling to be free, It loaths its wretched earthly dwelling ; My limbs refuse to bear their load, Oh, God protect lone orphan Ellen.
# Sair sair was my heart (1826)/Sair sair was my heart

SAIR SAIR WAS MY HEART.
Sair sair was my heart, when I parted frae my Jean, An' sair sair I sigh’d, while the tears stood in my een For my daddie is but poor, an' my fortune is sae sma' It gars me leave my dative Caledonia.
When I think on days now gane, an' sae happy's I hae been, While wand'ring wi' my dear whare the primrose blaws un-seen: I'm wae to leave my Lassie an' Daddie's cot ava, Or to leave the health-fu' breeze o' Caledonia.
But wherever I wander, still happy be my Jean, Nae care disturb her bosom, where peace has ever been, Then tho' ills on ills befa' me, for her I'll bear them a', Though aft I'll heave s sigh for Caledonia.
But should riches e'er be mine, and my Jeanie still be true, Then blaw ye fav'ring breeze till my native land I view; ​Then I'll kneel on Scotia's shore, while the heart And never leave my Jean, nor Caledonia.
# Sair sair was my heart

* "Sair sair was my heart", in Sair sair was my heart (1826), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Sair sair was my heart", in Sair sair was my heart (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
# Sair sair was my heart (1)/Sair sair was my heart

SAIR SAIR WAS MY HEART.
Sair sair was my heart, when I parted frae my Jean, An’ sair sair I sigh'd, while the tears stood in my een, For my daddie is but poor, an’ my fortune is sae sma', It gars me leave my native Caledonia.
When I think on days now gane, an sae happy’s I hae been, While wand’ring wi’ my dear, whare the primrose blaws un-seen I‘m wae to leave my Lassie an’ Daddies cot ava. Or to leave the health-fu' breeze o' Caledonia.
But wherever I wander, still happy be my Jean, Nae care disturb her bosom, where peace has ever been, Then tho’ ills on ills befa' me, for her I’ll bear them a', Though aft I'll heave a sigh for Caledonia.
But should riches e'er be mine, and my Jeanie still be true, Then blaw ye fav'ring breeze till my native land I view; ​I’ll kneel on Scotia's shore, while the heartfelt tears shall fa' And never leave my Jean, nor Caledonia.
# Cofachiqui

This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Cofachiqui, and Other Poems (1884), also simply called Cofachiqui, a poetry collection by Castello Newton Holford
* "Cofachiqui" (1884), a poem by Castello Newton Holford
# Shells

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Shells."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "Shells", 1897, a poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl.
* "Shells" in Popular Science Monthly, 50 (November 1896)

## See also

* Pebbles and Shells
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Bonie Ann

BONIE ANN.
# Bonie Ann

* "Beware o' bonnie Ann", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
* "Bonie Ann", in The Poetical Works of Robert Burns (1887), edited by Alexander Smith
# The Book of Scottish Song/Beware o' bonnie Ann

Beware o' bonnie Ann.
[Written by Burns in 1788 for Johnson's Museum, in compliment to Ann Masterton, (afterwards Mrs. Derbishire, London,) daughter of the poet's friend, Allan Masterton, who composed the tune. Masterton was a teacher of writing and arithmetic in Edinburgh, who possessed a great taste for music, which he cultivated as an amateur on the violin. He was composer of several other tunes for Burns's words, and, among the rest, of the tune to "Willie brew'd a peck o' maut." In the latter song he also figures as one of the heroes.]
Ye gallants bright, I rede ye right, Beware o' bonnie Ann; Her comely face sae fu' o' grace, Your heart she will trepan. Her een sae bright, like stars by night, Her skin is like the swan; Sae jimply laced, her genty waist, That sweetly ye might span.
Youth, grace, and love, attendant move, And pleasure leads the van; In a' their charms, and conquering arms, They wait on bonnie Ann. The captive bands may chain the hands, But love enslaves the man; Ye gallants braw, I rede ye a', Beware o' bonnie Ann.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Up in the Morning early

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
# Lass wi' the twa-handed wheel/Up in the Morning Early

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, the drift is driving fairly; Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast, I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
Up in the morning’s no for me, up in the morning early; When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw, I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
The birds sit chittering in the thorn, a’ day they fare but sparely; And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn, I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
Up in the morning’s, &c.
FINIS.
FALKIRK-T. JOHNSTON, PRINTER.
1817.
# Up in the morning early (Hamilton)

"Up in the morning early" is an old Scottish melody. Many sets of lyrics have been written; among the most popular is this version by Edinburghian music seller John Hamilton.
* "Up in the Morning Early" in Lass wi' the twa-handed wheel (1817), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Up in the Morning", in The Bonny Bridge of Findhorn (1820), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Up in the morning early" in Rigs o' barley (1821), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Up in the morning early" in The King's muster (1823), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Up in the Morning", in Lilies of the Valley (1825), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Up in the morning" in Disappointed lover (1825), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Up in the morning early" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
* "Up in the morning early" in Tibby Fowler (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Up in the Morning Early" in Seraphim (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Cauld blaws the wind", in Heaving of the Lead (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# The Book of Scottish Song/Up in the morning early

Up in the morning early.
[The tune of "Up In the morning early" is one of the oldest of our Scottish airs. From an anecdote given in Sir John Hawkins' History of Music, it appears to have been a favourite of Queen Mary's, the consort of William III., and Purcell, the distinguished composer, adapted the bass part for the birth-day song on the queen for the year 1692, beginning,
"May her bright example chase Vice in troops out of the land."
Before this, however, John Hilton, in 1652, published the tune as the third voice to what is called a "Northern Catch" for three voices, beginning,
"I'se gae with thee, my sweet Peggy."
Gay adopts the tune for one of his songs in the Beggar's Opera. From the opening words of the old song,
"Cold and raw the wind does blaw, Up in the morning early,"
the air is sometimes called "Cold and raw."—We give here two versions of "Up in the morning early," the first by Burns, with the exception of the chorus, which is old; the second by John Hamilton, a musicseller in Edinburgh, who died in 1814. It is a pity that the name of the old poet, who originally had the boldness to avow publicly his dislike of early rising, has not come down to posterity.]
I.
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill 's I hear the blast, I'm sure it's winter fairly! Up in the morning's no for me! Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly!
The birds sit cbittering in the thorn, A' day they fare but sparely; And lang's the night frae e'en to morn— I'm sure it's winter fairly. Up in the morning, &c.
II.
Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south; The drift is drifting sairly; The sheep are cowrin' in the heuch : O! sirs, it's winter fairly. Now up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early; I'd rather gae supperless to my bed, Than rise in the morning early.
Loud roars the blast amang the woods, And tirls the branches barely; On hill and house hear how it thuds! The frost is nipping sairly. Now up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early, To sit a' nicht wad better agree, Than rise in the mornin' early.
The sun peeps owre yon southland hills, Like ony timorous carlie, Just blinks a wee, then sinks again; And that we find severely. Now up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early; When snaw blaws in at the chimley cheek, Wha'd rise in the mornin' early?
Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush: Poor things, they suffer sairly; In cauldrife quarters a' the nicht; A' day they feed but sparely. Now up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early; A pennyless purse I wad rather dree Than rise in the mornin' early.
A cosie house and canty wife, Aye keep a body cheerly; And pantries stowed wi' meat and drink, They answer unco rarely. But up in the morning—na, na, na! Up in the mornin' early! The gowans maun glent on bank and brae, When I rise in the mornin' early.
# New minstrel

THE
NEW MINSTREL:
A COLLECTION OF
POPULAR SONGS.
GLASGOW
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
12
CONTENTS.
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 Poetical Works of Robert Burns/My bonie Mary

MY BONIE MARY.
# My Bonnie Mary (Burns)

This poem was written to an air by James Oswald. The first half-stanza is from "The Laird of Southland's Courtship" by Alexander Lesley.
* "My Bonnie Mary" in My Bonnie Mary (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "My bonnie Mary" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
* "My bonie Mary", in The Poetical Works of Robert Burns (1887), edited by Alexander Smith
* "Before Parting", in Lyra Heroica (1891), edited by William Ernest Henley
* "My Bonnie Mary", in Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900 (1931), edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch
* "My Bonnie Mary", in Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918 (1940), edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)

Collection of songs by Robert Burns. The date is estimated.
My Bonnie Mary.
It was upon a Lammas night.
Tho’ women’s minds.
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine.
There's nought but care on ev'ry hand.
Ye Banks and Braes.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS,
* My Bonnie Mary
* It Was Upon a Lammas Night
* Yestreen I Had a Pint o' Wine
* Tho' Women's Minds
* There's Nought But Care on Ev'ry Hand
* Ye Banks and Braes
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
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/My Bonnie Mary

my bonnie mary
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a'silver tassie; That I may drink before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith; Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry; The ship rides by the Berwick-Law, And I must leave my bonnie Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are ranked ready; The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; But it‘s not the roar o' sea or shore Wad mak me langer wish to tarry; Nor shout o‘ war that‘s heard afar, It‘s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/It Was Upon a Lammas Night

it was upon a lammas night.
It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon‘s unclouded light, I hied awa to Annie; ​The time flew by wi' tentless heed, Till 'tween the late and early: Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me thro' the barley.
O corm rigs, an' barley rigs, An' corn rigs are bonnie: I'll ne'er forget that happy night, Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
The sky was blue, the wind was still, The moon Was shining clearly; I sat her doon wi’ right good will, Amang the rigs o' barley: I kent her heart was a' ma ain, I lo'ed her most sincerely; I kiss'd her owre and owre again, Amang the rigs o‘ barley,
I lock'd her in my fond embrace, Her heart was beating rarely: My blessings on that happy place, Amang the rigs o' barley! But by the moon and stars so bright, That shone that hour so clearly! She ay shall bless, that happy, night, Amang the rigs o' barley.
​I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear, I hae been merry drinkin; I hae been joyfu' gatherin gear, I hae been happy thinkin: But of a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Tho' three times doubled fairly, That happy night wAs worth them a', Amang the rigs o' barley.
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/Yestreen I Had a Pint o' Wine

the gowden locks o' anna.
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine The gowden locks o‘ Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness Rejoicing o'er his manna, Was naething to my hinny bliss Upon the lips o' Anna.
Ye monarchs tak the east and west, Frae Indus to Savannah! Gie me within my straining grasp The melting form of Anna. There I'll despise imperial charms, An Empress or Sultana, ​While dying raptures in her arms I give and take with Anna.
Awa thou flaunting god o‘ day! Awa thou pale Diana! Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray When I‘m to meet my Anna. Come, in thy raven plumage, night, Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a‘; And bring an angel pen to write My transports wi' my Anna.
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/Tho' Women's Minds

tho' women's minds, &c.
Tho’ women's minds like winter winds, May shift and turn and a' that, The noblest breast adores them maist, A consequence I draw that. For a‘ that and a' that, And twice as meikle’s a‘ that, The bonny lass that I loe best She‘ll be my ain fer a‘ that.
Great love I bear to all the fair, Their humble slave and a‘ that; But lordly will, I hold it still, A mortal sin to thraw that. For a‘ that, &c.
​But there is ane aboon the lave, Has wit and sense, and a‘ that; A bonny lass, I like her best And wha a crime dare ca‘ that? For a‘ that, &c.
In rapture sweet this hour we meet, Wi‘ mutual love and a‘ that; But for how lang the flee may stang, Let inclination law that. For a‘ that, &c.
Their tricks and craft hae put me da(illegible text) They're ta'en me in, and a‘ that; But clear your decks and here‘s the se(illegible text) I like the jades for a‘ that. For a‘ that, &c.
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/There's Nought But Care on Ev'ry Hand

green grow the rashes.
There's nought but care on every han' In every hour that passes, O; What signifies the life o‘ man, An‘ ‘twere na for the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O, Green grow the rashes, O; ​The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O.
⟨The⟩ warly race may riches chase, An’ riches still may flee them, O; ⟨An‘⟩ tho‘ at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. Green grow, &c.
(illegible text)t gie me a canny hour at e'en, My arms around my dearie, O; (illegible text)hen warly cares an‘ warly men, May a‘ gae tapsalteerie, O. Green grow, &c.
(illegible text)r you sae douse, ye sneer at this Ye're nought but senseless asses, O; ⟨The⟩ wisest man the warl e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Green grow, &ca
(illegible text)ld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O; ⟨Her⟩ prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the lasses, O, Green grow, &c.
# My Bonnie Mary (1815-1825)/Ye Banks and Braes

the banks o' doon.
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care. Ye'll break my heart, ye little birds, That wanton thro' the flow'ry thorn; Ye mind me o' departed joys, Departed never to return.
Oft hae I roam'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; Whar ilka bird sang o‘ its love, And fondly sae did I o’ mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu‘ sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause love has stown the rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
finis.
# Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/Victorio

* ↑ Red-kerchiefed scouts—The Apache scouts employed by the government wore red kerchiefs to distinguish them from the hostiles.
* ↑ Floridas and Mogollons (pronounced Flo-ree-das and Mo-go-yones) mountains of New Mexico.
* ↑ Pieces of eight—eight reales, one dollar.
* ↑ Tres Castillos (pro. Trase Cas-tee-yos) mountains in Chihuahua.
* ↑ Plaza—an agricultural hamlet; also a public square. Tienda—Shop, store.
* ↑ Serape (pro. ser-ah-pe) a long, narrow blanket worn as a scarf.
* ↑ Peso—Mexican dollar.
* ↑ Bronco—A wild or half-tamed branded horse.
* ↑ Caballero—horseman.
* ↑ Mescalero (accent on third syllable)—A branch of the Apache tribe.
# Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/The soldier lad's vision

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
PREFACE TO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Some of the following poems were written during the last year of the civil war and the years immediately succeeding, and are to be considered accordingly.
The poem on Victorio was written in the region through which he raided, and is a literal narrative of the exploits and death of that famous chief.
# The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 68/Number 408/The Hawkbit

The poem "The Hawkbit" was published in The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 68, Number 408, p. 456.
THE HAWKBIT.
How sweetly on the autumn scene, When haws are red amid the green, The hawkbit shines with face of cheer, The favorite of the faltering year!
When days grow short and nights grow cold, How fairly gleams its eye of gold On pastured field and grassy hill, Along the roadside and the rill!
It seems the spirit of a flower, This offspring of the autumn hour, Wandering back to earth to bring Some kindly afterthought of spring.
A dandelion's ghost might so Amid Elysian meadows blow, Become more fragile and more fine Breathing the atmosphere divine.
Charles G. D. Roberts.