OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Haughs of Crumdel (1)/Wilt thou go my bonnie lassie?

Wilt thou go my bonnie lassie??
Wilt thou go, my bonnie lassie. wilt thou go my braw lassie Wilt thou go say I or no to the braes aboon Bonaw, lassie.
Tho Donald hae na meikle phrase wi’ lawland speeches fine lassie ​What he'll impart comes frae the heart Sae let it be wi’ thine lassie. Wilt thou go &c.
When simmer days cleed a' the braes wi’ blosom 'd broom sae fine, lassie. At milking seel we'll join the reel: my flocks shall a be thine, lassie. Wilt thou go, &c.
⟨I'll⟩ hunt the roe, the hart, the doe, the tarmigan sae shy, lassie; For duck and drake I'll beat the brake nae want shall come thee nigh, lassie. ⟨Wilt⟩ thou ⟨go⟩. &c.
For trout an par, wi canny care I'll wily skim the flee, lassie; Wi sic like cheer I'll please my dear——— Then come awa wi me, lassie.
Yes, ⟨I'll⟩ go, my braw laddie, Yes, ⟨I'll⟩ go. my bonnie ladie: I'll kilt my coats I'll tent the goats, On the braes aboon Bonaw, laddie.
Gin thou'lt prove true thou'lt never ⟨rue⟩, the love thou bear'st for me, laddie; Ilk joy an care wi thee ⟨I'll⟩ share, Until the day I die, laddie.
Come awa, my bonnie laddie, come awa, my braw laddie, Come weel. come wae. I'll kilt and gae to the braes aboon Bonaw, laddie.
# The Barring o' the Door

* "It fell upon the Martinmas time", in Haughs of Crumdel (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Barring o' the Door", in The Volunteer Boys (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Barring o' the Door", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# The Chelsea Pensioners

Also known as "The Days o' Langsyne". This poem is sometimes (erroneously) attributed to James Moor.
* "The Days of Langsyne", in The Volunteer Boys (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Days O' Langsyne" in The Days O' Langsyne (1802)
* "The Chelsea Pensioners" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843)
# The Volunteer Boys/The Days of Langsyne

THE DAYS OF LANGSYNE.
When war had broke in on the peace of auld men, And frae Chelsea to arms they were summon’d again, Twa vet’rans grown grey wi’ their muskets sair foll’d, Wi’ a sigh were relating how hard they had toil’d, The drum it was beating, to fight they incline, But ay they look back on the days o’ lang syne. Eh! Davie man weel thou remembers the time, When twa brisk young callans, an’ just in our prime, The prince led us, conquer’d and shew’d us the way, An’ mony a braw chief we turn’d cauld on that day;
Still again wad I venture this auld trunk o’ mine, Could our generals but lead, or we fight like lang syne.
But garrison duty is a’ we can do, Tho’ our arms are worn weak, yet our hearts are still true; We fear’d neither danger by land or by sea, For time’s turn’d coward, an ne you or me; And tho’ at our fate we may sadly repine, Youth winna return, nor the strength o’ lang syne.
When after our conquests, it joys me to mind, How thy Jean caressed thee, and my Meg was kind, They shar’d a’ our dangers, tho’ ever sae hard, Nor car’d we for plunder, when sic our reward: Ev’n now they’re resolved baith their hames to resign, And to share the hard fates they were us’d to lang syne.
# The Book of Scottish Song/The Chelsea Pensioners

The Chelsea Pensioners.
[The following song, otherwise called "The Days o' Langsyne," was written by Miss Blamire, of whom we have spoken in a previous note. It has been sometimes erroneously ascribed to Dr. James Moor, professor of Greek in the University of Glasgow. The "duke" alluded to in the second stanza was Willam duke of Cumberland, and the last line of that verse originally ran,
"Could William but lead, and I fight, as langsyne,"
but the authoress afterwards struck out the name, justly judging that it could never be popular in Scotland, so long as the odious butcheries that succeeded Culloden were remembered.]
When war had broke in on the peace o' auld men, And frae Chelsea to arms they were summon'd again, Twa vet'rans grown gray, wi' their muskets sair soil'd, Wi' a sigh were relating how hard they had toil'd; The drum it was beating, to fight they incline, But aye they look back to the days o' langsyne.
Eh! Davie, man, weel thou remembers the time, When twa brisk young callans, an' just in our prime, The duke bade us conquer, an' show'd us the way, An' mony a braw chiel we laid low on that day: Still again would I venture this auld trunk o' mine, Could our generals but lead, or we fight like langsyne.
But garrison duty is a' we can do, Though our arms are worn weak, yet our hearts are still true We care na for dangers by land or by sea, For time has turn'd coward, an' no you and me; And though at the change we should sadly repine, Youth winna return, nor the strength o' langsyne.
When after our conquests, it joys me to mind, How thy Janet caress'd thee, and my Meg was kind; They follow'd our fortunes, though ever so hard, Nor cared we for plunder, when sic our reward: Even now, they're resolved baith their hames to resign, And will follow us yet, for the sake o' langsyne.
# Teh (sic) prisoner's welcome/Teh prisoner's welcome

Date and place of publication from external evidence.
The Prisoner's Welcome.
Welcome, welcome, brother debtor, To this poor but merry place, Where no bailiff, Dun, nor Setter, Dare to show their frightful face: But, kind Sir, as you’re a stranger, Down your garnish you must lay, Else your coat will be in danger; You must either strip or pay.
Ne’er repine at your confinement, From your children, or your wife; wisdom lies in true resignment, Thro’ the various scenes of life. Scorn to shew the least resentment, Tho’ beneath the frowns of fate; Knaves and beggars find contentment, Fears and cares attend the great.
Tho’ our creditors are spiteful, And retain us captives here, Use will make a goal delightful, Since we’ve nothing else to fear: Every island’s but a prison, Strongly guarded by the sea;
Kings and princes, for that reason, Prisoners are as well as we.
Pray, what made great Alexander, Weep at his unfriendly fate? ’Twas because he could not wander, beyond the world’s prison-gate: For the world is also bounded, By the heavens and stars above: Why should we then be confounded. Since there’s nothing free but love.
# Teh (sic) prisoner's welcome/Katharine Ogie

Katharine Ogie,
AS walking forth to view the plain, Upon a morning early, While May’s sweet scent did chear my brain From flow’rs which grew so rarely; I chanc’d to meet a pretty maid, She shin’d though it was foggy: I ask’d her name; Sweet Sir, she said, My name is Katharine Ogie.
I stood a while, and did admire, To see a nymph so stately;
So brisk an air there did appear, In a country-maid so neatly; Such nat’ral sweetness she display’d, Like a lilie in a boggie; Diana's self was ne‘er array‘d; Like this same Katharine Ogie.
Thou flower of females, Beauty's queen, Who sees thee sure must prize thee; Tho‘ thou art drest in robes but mean, Yet these cannot disguise thee; Thy handsome air and graceful look, Far excels my clownish rogie; Thou‘rt match for laird, or lord, or duke My charming Katharine Ogie
O were I but some shepherd swain! To feed my flock beside thee, At boughting time to leave the plain, In milking to abide thee; I’d think myself a happier man, With Kate, my club, and dogie, Than he that hugs his thousands ten, Had I but Katharine Ogie.
Then I'd despise the imperial throne And statesmen’s dangerous stations
I‘d be no king I’d wear no crown, I‘d smile at conq’ring nations; Might I caress and still possess, This lass of whom I'm vogie; For these are toys and still look less, Compar'd with Katharine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed, For me so fine a creature, Whose beauty rare makes her exceed, All other works in nature. Clouds of despair surround my love, That are both dark and foggy; Pity my cause, ye Pow’rs above, Else I die for Katharine Ogie.
# Teh (sic) prisoner's welcome/The power's of love

The power’s of Love.
LOVE’S a gentle generous Passion, scource of all sublime delights, Which with mutual inclinations, two fond hearts in one unites.
What are titles, pomp or riches, if compar’d with true content, That false joy which now bewitches, when obtain’d we may repent.
Lawless passion brings vexation, but a chaste and virtuous love, Is a glorious emulation, of the blissful state above. FINIS
# Teh (sic) prisoner's welcome/Jockie lad an' ye wa'd steal me

Jockie Lad an' Ye wa'd steal me.
# Six popular Scotch songs/The Braes O' Gleniffer

SONGS.
THE BRAES O’ GLENIFFER.
Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, The auld castle's turrets are covered wi' snaw— How chang'd frae the time when I met wi’ my lover, Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw! The wild flowers o’ summer were spread a' sae bonnie, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But far to the camp they ha'e marched my dear Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' nature and me. Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheerie— Then ilk thing around us was bonnie and braw; Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, And naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw. The trees are a’ bare, and the birds mute and dowie, They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie— 'Tis winter wi’ them, and 'tis winter wi' me.
​Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmured sae sweet to my laddie and me. ’Tis no its loud roar on the wintry wind swelling, 'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i’ my e’e— For, O! gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan, The dark days o' winter were summer to me.
# Six popular Scotch songs/Neil Gow's Fareweel

NEIL GOW'S FAREWEEL.
You've surely heard o' famous Neil, The man that play'd the fiddle weel, I wat he was a canty chiel, And dearly lo'ed the whisky, O. And ay since he wore tartan hose, He dearly lo’ed the Athol brose; And wae was he, you may suppose, To play fareweel to whisky, O.
Alake, quoth Neil, I'm frail and auld, And find my bluid grows unco cauld; I think ’twad mak me blythe and bauld, A wee drap Highland whisky, O. And yet the doctors a' agree That whisky's no the drink for me; Saul! quoth Neil 'twill spoil my glee, Should they part me and whisky, O.
Tho' I can get baith wine and ale, And find my head and fingers hale,
​I'll be content, tho legs should fail, To play fareweel to whisky, O, But still I think on auld langsyne, When Paradise our friends did tyne, Because something ran in their min', Forbid, like Highland whisky, O.
Come a' ye powers o' Music, come! I find my heart grows unco glum, My fiddle-strings will not play bum, To say fareweel to whisky, O. I'll tak my fiddle in my hand, And screw the strings up while the'll stand, To mak a lamentation grand. On good auld Highland whisky, O.
# Mary's Dream (1812)

Mary’s Dream.
To which are added,
Mine ain dear Somebody,
The Braes o’ Gleniffer.
The Braes of Balquhither.
Loudon’s bonny Woods and Braes.
The Disguised Squire.
PAISLEY:
Printed by J. Neilson.
1812.
* Mary’s Dream
* Mine ain dear Somebody
* The Braes o’ Gleniffer
* The Braes of Balquhither
* Loudon’s bonny Woods and Braes
* The Disguised Squire
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 Braes o' Gleniffer

"This beautiful song was written by Tannahill to the old air of 'Bonnie Dundee.' Mr. Ross of Aberdeen also composed a tune for it. Gleniffer braes lie at a short distance south-west of Paisley." —Alexander Whitelaw, The Book of Scottish Song (1843)
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer" in Mary's Dream (1812), a chapbook printed in Paisley
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer" in Bonny Mally Stewart (1826), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer", in Highland Harry (1828), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer" in Cream of Tannahill's Songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Braes O' Gleniffer", in Six popular Scotch songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Kirkcudbright
* "The Braes o' Gleniffer", in Young Donald o' Dundee (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# Highland Harry/The Braes o' Gleniffer

THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.
Keen blaws the wind ower the braes o' Glenniffer, The auld castle's turrets are covered wi' snaw; How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw. The wild flowers o'simmer were spread a sae bonny, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But far to the camp they hae marched my dear Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' Nature and me.
Then ilk thing around us was blythsome and bonny, Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw; Now naething is heard but the win' whistlin' dreary, And naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw: The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie, They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, And chirp out their plaints seeming wae for my Johnnie; 'Tis winter wi' them and 'tis winter wi' me.
Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountains, And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw flooded fountain, That murmured sae sweet to my laddie an' me: ​It's no its loud roar on the wintry wind swelling;
It's no the cauld blest brings the tear to my e'e; For O gin I saw my bonny Scotch callan, The dark days o' winter were simmer to me.
# Young Donald o' Dundee (1804-1819)/Song 1

Young Donald o' Dundee.
YOUNG Donald was the blythest lad that e'er made love to me, Whene'er he's by my heart is glad, he looks so gay and free.
While on his pipe he plays so sweet, And in his plade he looks so neat, He charms my heart whene'er I meet Young Donal' o' Dundee, &c.
Whene'er I gang to yonder grove, Young Sandie follows me And fain he wants to be my love, but that he cannot be.
Tho' mother fret both soon and late; For me to wed this youth I hate, There's nane may think to gain young Kate, but Donal' o' Dundee, &c.
When last I rang'd the banks of Tay, The ring he show'd to me, And bade me name the bridal day, And happy would he be.
I ken the laddie will prove kind, Nae mare my mother will I mind, Mess John to me will quickly bind, Young Donal' o' Dundee, &c.
# Young Donald o' Dundee (1804-1819)/Song 2

The Braes o' Gleniffer.
Tune—Bonny Dundee.
KEEN blaws the win' o'er the braes o' Gleniffer The auld castle turrets are cover'd wi' snaw, How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover, Amang the broom bushes by Stanely green shaw. The wild flow'rs o'simmer were spread a' sae bonnie, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree, But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie, An' now it is winter wi' nature an' me.
Then ilk thing around us was blythesome an' cheery, Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw; Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, An' naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw:
The trees are a’bare, an’ the birds mute an’ dowie, They shake the cold drift frae their wings as they flee, An’ chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, Tis winter wi’ them, an’ ’tis winter wi’ me.
Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, An’ shakes the dark firs on the stay rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmur’d sae sweet to my laddie an’ me: It’s no its loud roar on the wintry win’ swellin’, It’s no the cauld blast brings the tears i’ my e’e, For, O gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan, The dark days o’ winter war’ summer to me.
# Young Donald o' Dundee (1804-1819)/Song 4

The Land o' the Leal.
I’m wearing awa, Jean, Like snaw when it’s thaw, Jean; I’m wearing awa To the land o’ the leal. There’s nae sorrow there, Jean, There’s nae cauld nor care, Jean, The day is ay fair, In the land o’ the leal.
Ye were ay leal an’ true, Jean, Your task’s ended now, Jean, And I’ll welcome you To the land o’ the leal. Our bonny bairn’s there, Jean; She was baith guid an’ fair, Jean, And we grudg’d her right sair To the land o’ the leal.
Then dry that tearfu’ ee, Jean, My soul langs to be free, Jean, And angels wait on me To the land o’ the leal. Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean, This warld’s care is vain, Jean, We’ll meet and ay be fain In the land o’ the leal.
# Young Donald o' Dundee (1804-1819)/Song 5

Highland Mary.
YE banks and braes, and streams around, The castle o’ Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flow’rs, Your water never drumlie. There simmer first unfolds her robes, And there they langest tarry; For there I took the last farewell, Of my dear Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn blosom; As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasp’d her to my bosom! The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o’er me and my dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi’ mony a vow and lock’d embrace, Our parting was fu’ tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore ourselves asunder. But oh! fell death’s untimely frost, That nipt my flow’r so early; Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary!
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly! And clos’d for ay, the sparkling glance, That dwelt on ne sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo’ed me dearly! But still within my bosom’s core, Shall live my Highland Mary.
# Bonny Mally Stewart (1826)

Bonny Mally Stewart;
To which are added,
Her Blue rollin' e'e,
The Braes o' Gleniffer,
Waes me for prince Charly.
STIRLING:
Printed by W. Macnie.
1826.
* Bonny Mally Stewart
* Her Blue Rollin' E'e
* The Braes o' Gleniffer
* Waes me for Prince Charly
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
# Bonny Mally Stewart (1826)/Bonny Mally Stewart

BONNY MALLY STEWART.
The cold winter is p'st and gone, and now comes on the soring, And I am one of the king's life guards and I must go fight far my king my dear; And I mnst go fight for my king.
Now since to the wars you must go, one thing I pray grant me It's I will dress myself in man's attire, and I'll travel along with thee my dear; And I'll travel along with thee.
I would not for ten thousand worlds, that my love endangered were; The rattling of drums and shining of swords, will cause great sorrow and wo my dear, Will cause great sorrow and wo.
I will do the thing for my true love, that she will not do fo me It's I'll put cuffs of luck on my red coat, and mourn till the day I ⟨die⟩, my dear, And mourn till the day I die.
​I will do more for my true love, than he will do for me; I'll cut my hair and roll me bare, and mourn till the day I die, And mourn till the day I die.
So farewell my mother and father dear, I'll bid adieu and farewell, My sweet and bonny Mally Stewart, you're the cause of all my wo, my dear, You're the cause of all my wo.
When we came to bonny Stirling town, as we lay all in camp By the king's orders we were all taken, and to Germany we were all sent, my dear, And to Germany we were all sent.
So farewell bonny Stirling town, and the maids therein also; And farewell bonny Mally Stewart, you're the cause of all my wo, my dear, You're the cause of all my wo.
She took the slippers off her feet, and the cockup off her hair; ​And she has ta'en a long journey, for seven lang years and mair, my dear, For seven lang years and mair.
Sometimes the rade, sometimes she gaed, Sometimes sat down to mourn And it was aye the o'ercome o' her tale, Shall I e'er see my bonny laddie come.
The trooper turned himself round about, all on the Irish shore, He has gi'en on the bridle reins a shake, saying adieu for evermore, my dear, Saying adieu for evermore.
# Bonny Mally Stewart (1826)/Her blue rollin' e'e

HER BLUE ROLLIN' E'E
My lassie is lovely as May-dew adorning, Wi' gowans and primroses ilka green lea, Tho' sweet is the violet new blown in the morning, As tender and sweet is her blue ⟨rollin'⟩ ee. O say what is whiter than snow on the mountain, Or what wi' the red-rose in beauty can vie? Yes whiter her bosom than snow on the mountain, And bonny her face as the red-rose can be.
​(illegible text)as yon lowly cottage that stands by the wild road, Hedg'd round wi' sweet brier and green willow tree. ⟨Twas⟩ yonder I spent the first days o' my childhood, And first felt the power of a love-rollin' ee. ⟨Tho'⟩ soon frae my hame and my lassie I wander'd, Though lang I hae been tossing on fortune's
rough sea, ⟨Aye⟩ dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd. Aye dear was the blink o' her blue rollin' ee.
⟨O⟩ for the evening, and O for the hour, When down by yon greenwood she promised to
be, ⟨When⟩ quick as the summer-dew dries on the flower; A' earthly affections and wishes wad flee. ⟨Let⟩ Art and let Nature display their proud treasure; Let Paradise boast of what bliss it could gie: (illegible text) high is my bliss, and as sweet is my pleasure, In the heart-melting blink o' my lassie's blue ee.
# Bonny Mally Stewart (1826)/The Braes o' Gleniffer

THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.
⟨The⟩ sea blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, The auld castle turrets are cover'd wi' snaw; ​How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover. Amang the broom bushes by Stanely green sha(illegible text) The wild flowers o' simmer were spread a' ae bonny, The mavis sang sweet frae the green bi ken tree But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' nature and me.
Then ilk thing around us was blithesome an ⟨cheery,⟩ Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw Now naething is heard but the wind whistling ⟨dreary,⟩ And naething is seen but the wide-speading ⟨snaw⟩ The trees are a' bare, an' the birds mu e a n to ⟨down⟩ They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, An' chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, 'Tis winter with them, and 'tis winter wi' me.
Yon cauld sleety clouds skiffs alang the break mountains, And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky br(illegible text) While down the step glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountains That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and ⟨me⟩ ​(illegible text)'s no its loud roar on the wintry wind swelling, It's no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my ee, ⟨Nor⟩ O gi(illegible text)s w(illegible text)m bonuy Scots callan, The mark says a' winter were simmer to me.
# Port Chester Daily Item/1944/Lindauer Family Has Gathering In Region

* related portals: Stanley Levan Lindauer.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Lindauer family in The Daily Item on August 6, 1964.
Lindauer Family Has Gathering In Region. The annual reunion picnic of the Stanley Lindauer family was held recently at Fisher's Grove, north of Allenwood. The original family consisted of 14 sons and daughters. Present were Stanley Lindauer, father; Mr. and Mrs. William Fisher and daughter, Carole Ann, of Allenwood; Mr. and Mrs. Robert R. Martin and daughter, Pamela, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Lindauer and daughter, Jo Ann, Mr. and Mrs. Fred Lindauer and daughter, Tammy, of Watsontown RD 1; Mr. and Mrs. Nile Rupert and children, Judy, Cathy, Christie, Mike and Diane, of Watsontown RD 2; Mrs. Julia Ditzler, Temple City, California; David: Sons and daughters, Justine and Alberta, of Muncy RD; Mr. and Mrs. Earl Lindauer and son, Stanley, of Montgomery; Mr. and Mrs. Harold Hill and daughters, Vickie, Teresa and Pattie, of Muncy; Mr. and Mrs. Richard Martin and sons, Keith and Karl, of Milton RD 1; and William McCloskey, of Hughesville RD 1. Members of the family unable to attend were William Lindauer, of Watsontown; Clair Lindauer, Mrs. Ralph Reibsame, of New York State; Mrs. Leo Craft, of Newark, New Jersey; and Mrs. Aria Stamm, of Milton.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse