OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Garland of songs/Buxom bonny Willie

BUXOM BONNY WILLIE.
When fragrant bloom of yellow broom, delights our lads and lasses, O'er yellow broom in beauty's bloom, my will all lads surpasses;
Wi' Willy then I'll o'er the braes, I'll o'er the braes wi' Willy; Wi Willy then I'll o'er the braes, I'll owre the braes wil Willy.
From morn to eve I'll sing the praise, of buxom bonny Willy, Willy, Willy, Willy, Willy: From morn to eve I'll sing the praise, Of buxom bonny Willy.
Redlin'd by Tay at noon-tide day, we'll pu' the daisy pretty, The live-lang day we'll kiss and play, or sing some loving ditty. W. Willy then, &c.
Now blythe and gay at setting day, gif mither dinna hinder, I'll sing and play wi' Willy gay, for we twa ne'er shall sinder. Wi' Willy then, &c.
# Bonny bell (1)

Bonny Bell,
A Love Song,
To which are added,
The Brave Sailor,
Buxom bonny Willie.
Bonny Betsy Taylor.
The Highland Laddie.
Falkirk, Printed in the Year 1823.
* Bonny Bell
* The brave sailor
* Buxom bonny Willie
* Bonny Betsy Taylor
* The Highland Laddie
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Bonny bell (1)/Buxom bonny Willie

BUXOM BONNY WILLIE.
When fragrant bloom of yellow broom delights our lads and lasses, O'er yellow broom in beauty's bloom my Will all lads' surpasses
Wi' Wallie then I'll o'er the braes, I'll o'er the braes wi' Willie; We Willie then I'll o'er the braes, I'll o'er the braes wi' Willie, From morn to eve I'll sing the praise of buxom bonny Willie Willy, Willy, Willy From morn to eve I'll sing the praise of buxom bonny Willy.
​Reclin'd by Tay at noon-tide day, we'll put the daily pretty, The live-lang day we'll kiss and play, sor sing some loving ditty. Wi Willie then, &c.
Now blyth and gay at setting day; gif mither dines hinder. I'll sing and play wi' Willy gay, for we twain ne'er shall finder Wi' Wilie then,then, &c.
# Bonny bell (1)/The Highland Laddie

BONIE HIGHLAND LADDIE.
The boniest lad that e'er I saw, Bonie laddie, Highland laddie, Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw, Bonie Highland laddie. On his head a bonnet blue, Bonie laddie, Highland laddie; His loyal heart was firm and true Bonie Highland laddie.
​Trumpets sound, and cannons, roar, Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie; And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, Bonie Lowland lassie Glory, honour, now invite, Bonie lassie, Loeland lassie For freedom and my King to fight, Bonie Lowland lassie.
The sun a backward course shall take, Bonie laddie, Highland laddie, Ere ought thy manly courage shake Bonie Highland laddie. Go for yourself procure renown, Bonie laddie, Highland laddie; And for your lawful King his crown, Bonie Highland laddie.
FINIS
# The Highland Laddie (Burns)

* "Highland Laddie", in Bonnie wood of Craigie lea (1822), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Highland laddie" in The Haws of Cromdale (1822), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Highland Laddie", in Bonny bell (1823), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Bonny Highland Laddie" in The Two Babes in the Wood (1828), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Bonny Highland Laddie" in The Two Babes in the Wood (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Highland Laddie", in Allan Tine o' Harrow (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The Highland Laddie", in The Poetical Works of Robert Burns (1887), edited by Alexander Smith
# Buxom bonny Willie

* "Buxom bonny Willie", in The Linnet (1819), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Buxom Bonny Willie", in Highland laddie (1820), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Buxom bonny Willie", in Bonny bell (1823), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Buxom bonny Willie", in Garland of songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Buxom bonny Willie

Buxom bonny, Willie.
# Bonny bell (1)/Bonny Betsy Taylor

BONNY BETSY TAYLOR.
In Hygate, as I now do tell. One Betsy Taylor there did dwell, Who was a beauty of renown. But nowiher roses are pull'd down.
With Mr. Hooker she did reside, A young man wish'd her for his bride: They fix'd upon the wedding day But all their joys are fled away.
​Her brother was a wicked blade, This poor young girl her did persuade To rob her Master—wick'd deed! Which made her tender heart to bleed.
Two hundred pounds in goods they stole< O now have mercy on their soul! For they were taken and ⟨cast⟩ to die . And in the dreadful cells they lie!
When at the bar this maid stood The tears ran down just like a flood The roses from her cheeks were fled. She droop'd with heart as cold as lead
When to the bar, poor soul, was brought. For mercy on her knees she fought! The Judge unto her then did cry, There is no help, for you must die.
When from the bar they did her take. With grief her heart was like to break; Her sweetheart he was in the Court, His dearest girl for to support.
When, back to prison they did go, And they, must part—O fatal woe! The scene of grief no tongue can tell, When she was led into the cell.
​With aching heart, she now does lie, Until the day that she sust die; When drest in white from top to toe;. To meet her fate this maid will go.
So maidens now take warning all, Reflect upon her wretched fall, And when you hear the dead bell toll, Fall on your knees, pray for her soul.
O! by her death ⟨a⟩ warning take; Before with you it be too late; May she get it strength to meet the blow, When she sinks to the shades below.
# Bonny Betsy Taylor

* "Bonny Betsy Taylor", in Bonny bell (1823), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Betsy Taylor's Lamentation", in Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing information
# Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life

THE
Improbability;
OR, THE
Batchelor's Diſlike to a Married Life.
To which is added,
Betsy Taylor's Lamentation.
TWEEVE MONTHS are PAST.
YE GALLANT SOULS.
BONNY BELL.
The PITCHER.
Entered according to Order.
* The Improbability; Or, The Batchelor's Dislike to a Married Life
* Betsy Taylor's Lamentation
* Twelve Months are Past
* Ye Gallant Souls
* Bonny Bell
* The Pitcher
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Bonny bell (1)/The brave sailor

THE BRAVE SAILOR.
Ye gallant souls, who beat so high with British glory in each vein; From his example learn to die, whose honour never knew one slain.
At break of day two sail appear'd and on the larboard-quarter stood; For action straight the decks were clear'd, which soon, alas were dy'd, with blood!
My friend maintain'd the unequal fight, till bringing all his guns to bear, ​With red-hot balls their, thunder freight. and up one Frenchman blew in air!
The other struck her colours now, but, and too late his life to save, For e'er the hostile flag was low, a shot had mark'd him for the grave
# Ye Gallant Souls

* "The brave sailor", in Bonny bell (1823), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Ye Gallant Souls", in Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing information
# Bonny bell (1)/Bonny Bell

BONNY BELL
In fair Edina dwelt a maid, not of high birth, nor low, 'Tis not material when, I trow, but 'tis not long ago Howe’er this lass of lssses was much for her beauty fam’d; Each foppiing that could read or write, her praise in verse proclaim'd;
CHORUS
This Maid she was a virgin fair, none could her charms excel! No rose on Sharon’s vale could e'er compare with Bonny Bell!
For her full long did Strephon whine, for her he rack'd his breast; But no fond flatter could engage this Helen of the west. Ignaro next the fair address'd he too a passion feign’d ; Plutus in vain did argue his suit, But both the maid disdain'd.
​At last grave Damon made his suit, she listen'd to his tale; He pled a genuine virtuous love, and virtue did prevail. The choice approv'd, to lend his aid, Thalius did not fail Each vale resounded with the praise of Damon and his Bell. This Maid, &c
# Bonny Bell

* "Bonny Bell", in Bonny bell (1823), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Bonny Bell", in Improbability, or, The batchelor's dislike to a married life (n.d.), a chapbook with no printing information
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Young Donald of Dundee

Young Donald of Dundee.
# Donald of Dundee

* "Young Donald of Dundee", in The Linnet (1819), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Donald of Dundee", in The chapter of kings, a new royal song (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Young Donald o'Dundee", in Paddy's rambles (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Donald of Dundee", in Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue (1829), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Donald o' Dundee", in The Sentimental Songster (1840s)
* "Donald o' Dundee", in Seraphim (1840s)
* "Donald of Dundee", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843)
* "Young Donald is the blithest lad", in Six popular songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Young Donald o' Dundee", in Young Donald o' Dundee (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Nan o' Logie-Green

Nan of Logie-Green.
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# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/The Braes o' Lomand

The attribution of this work to Robert Burns appears to be erroneous, as it does not appear in any of his collected works.
The Braes o' Lomond.
By Burns
# Despairing Mary

* "Despairing Mary" in Caladonia (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Despairing Mary" in Four Scottish songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Despairing Mary" in Beneath the Willow Tree (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "Despairing Mary" in Cream of Tannahill's Songs (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "Despairing Mary", in The Linnet (1819), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Despairing Mary" in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Despairing Mary

DESPA'RING MARY.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)

Taste life’s glad moments
To which are added,
Begone dull care. Lovely Nan. The Woodman. Cuckoo.
EDINBURGH: Printed for the Bookseller in Town and Country
1823.
* Taste Life's Glad Moments
* Begone Dull Care
* Lovely Nan
* The Woodman
* Cuckoo
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)/Taste Life's Glad Moments

TASTE life’s glad moments, Whilst the wasting taper glows, Pluck, e’er it withers, The quickly fading rose: Man blindly follows grief and care, He seeks for thorns, and finds his shares Whilst violets, to the passing air. Unheeded shed their blossoms.
When tim’rous nature veils her form; And rolling thunder spreads alarm, Then ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm, The sun smiles forth at even,
How spleen and envy anxious flies. And meek content, in humble guise Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise; Which golden fruits shall yield him.
Who fosters faith in upright breast, And freely gives to the distress’d, There sweet contentment builds her nest, And flutters round his bosom
​And when life’s path grows dark and strait, And pressing ills, on ills await, Then friendship, sorrow to abate, The helping hand will offer.
She dries his tears, she strews his way, E’en in the grave with flowrets gay; Turns night to morn, morn to day, And pleasure still increases.
Of life she is the fairest band, loins brothers truly hand in hand; Thus onward to a better land, Man journeys light and cheerly.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)/Begone Dull Care

BEGONE dull care, I prithee begone from me; Begone dull care. You and I shall never agree. Long time thou hast been tarrying here, And fain thou would'st me kill But I faith dull care, Thou never shall have thy will.
To much care, Will make a young man grey; ​And too much care, Will turn an old man to clay. My wife shall dance and I shall sing, So merrily pass the day, For I hold it one of the wisest things To drive dull care away.
My wife shall dance, and I will sing, So merrily pass the day, For I hold it one of the wisest things, To drive dull care away.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)/Lovely Nan

SWEET is the ship that under sail, Spreads her white bosom to the gale; Sweet, oh! sweet’s the flowing can; Sweet to poise the lab’ring oar, That tugs us to our native shore, When the boatswain pipes - the barge to man Sweet sailing with a fav’ring breeze; But oh! much sweeter than all these, Is Jack’s delight - his lovely Nan.
The needle, faithful to the north, To shew of constancy the worth, ​A curious lesson teaches man— The needle time may rub, a squall Capsize the binnacle and all, Let seamanship do all it can; My love, in worth, shall higher rise, Nor time shall rust, nor squalls cpasize My faith and truth to lovely Nan.
When in the bilboes I was penn'd. For serving of a worthless friend, And every creature from me ran No ship performing quarantine, Was ever so deserted seen; None hail’d me, woman, child nor man: But though false friendship’s sail’s were furl'd, Though cut adrift by all the world, I'd all the world in lovely Nan.
I love my duty, love my friend, Love truth and merit to defend. To moan their loss, who hazard ran: I love to take an honest part, Love beauty, and a spotless heart, By manners love to shew the man: To sail through life, by honor’s breeze, 'Twas all along of loving these. First made me doat on lovely Nan.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)/The Woodman

IT was far retir’d from noise and smoke, O hark! I hear the woodman’s stroke, Who dreams not as he fells the oak, What mischief dire he brews; Or what may shape the falling trees He knows no luxury nor ease, Nor weighs not matters such as these, But sings, and hacks, and hews.
The tree now fell'd by this good man, Perhaps may form the spruce sedan, Or wheelbarrow, where Oyster Nan So vulgar runs her rigs: The stage, where boxers crowd in flocks, Or else the quacks, perhaps the stocks, Or poles for signs for barber’s blocks, Where smiles the parson’s wig.
It makes, bold peasant, O what grief. The gibbet, on where hangs the thief, The seat where sits the great Lord chief, ⟨The⟩ throne, the cobler’s stall: '⟨Tis⟩ pompous life in every stage, ​Makes folly's whim prize equipage. And children’s toys and crutches for age, And coffins for us all.
Yet justice let us still afford, Those chairs and this convivial board, The binn that holds gay Bacchus’ hoard, Confess the woodman’s stroke; He made the press that bled the vine, The butt that holds the generous wine, The hall itself where tipplers join, To crack their mirthful joke.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823, Edinburgh)/Cuckoo

WHEN daisies py’d and violets blue, And cuckoo buds, of yellow hue, And lady smocks all silver white, Do paint the meadows with delight; The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he— Cuckoo, cuckoo, O word of fear! Unpleasing to a married ear.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, ​And turtles tread, and rooks and daws And maidens bleach their summer smocks. The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he: Cuckoo, cuckoo, O word of fear; Unpleasing to a married ear.
When icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail; When blood is nipt, and way’s be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit to-whoo, a merry note While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marion’s nose looks red and raw; Then roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, And nightly sings the staring owl To-whit tu-whoo, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth heel the pot.
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/Taste Life's glad moments

Taste Life's Glad Moments.
# Taste Life's Glad Moments

* "Taste Life's glad moments", in The Linnet (1819), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "Taste Life's Glad Moments", in Taste Life's Glad Moments (1823), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Taste life's glad moments", in The Book of Scottish Song (1843), edited by Alexander Whitelaw
# The Book of Scottish Song/Taste life's glad moments

Taste life's glad moments.
[This popular song is said to be a translation from the German, by Sir Alexander Boswell, Bart. of Auchinleck, author of "Jenny's Bawbee," &c.]
Taste life's glad moments, Whilst the wasting taper glows; Pluck, ere it withers, The quickly fading rose.
Man blindly follows grief and care, He seeks for thorns, and finds his share, Whilst violets to the passing air Unheeded shed their blossoms. Taste life's, &c.
When tim'rous nature veils her form, And rolling thunder spreads alarm, Then, ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm, The sun smiles forth at even. Taste life's, &c.
How spleen and envy anxious flies, And meek content, in humble guise, Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise, Which golden fruits shall yield him. Taste life's, &c.
Who fosters faith in upright breast, And freely gives to the distress'd, There sweet contentment builds her nest, And flutters round his bosom. Taste life's, &c.
And when life's path grows dark and strait And pressing ills on ills await, Then friendship, sorrow to abate, The helping hand will offer. Taste life's, &c.
She dries his tears, she strews his way, E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay; Turns night to morn, and morn to day, And pleasure still increases. Taste life's, &c.
Of life she is the fairest band, Joins brothers truly hand in hand; Thus onward to a better land Man journeys light and cheerly. Taste life's, &c.
# New minstrel/The Trumpet Sounds a Victory

THE TRUMPET SOUNDS A VICTORY
He was famed for deeds of arms, She a maid of matchless charms; Now to him her love imparts; One pure flame pervades both hearts; Honour calls him to the field, Love to conquest now must yield. "Sweeet maid!" he cries, "again, I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory!"
Battle now with fury glows! Hostile blood in torrents flows! His duty tells him to depart, She press'd her hero to her heart, And now the trumpet sounds to arms, Amid the clash of war's alarms. "Sweot maid!" he cries, &c.
Ho with love and conquest burns, Doth subdue his mind by turns, Death the soldier now enthralls! With his wounds the hero falls! She disdaining war's alarms, Rush'd and caught him in her arms. "O death!" he cried, "thou'rt welcome now to me For, hark! the glad trumpet sounds a victory."
# The Trumpet Sounds a Victory

* "The glad Trumpet sounds a Victory", in The Linnet (1819), a chapbook printed in Falkirk
* "The Trumpet Sounds a Victory", in New minstrel (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Trumpet Sounds a Victory", in The Singers' Companion (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# The Singers' Companion/The Trumpet Sounds a Victory

THE TRUMPET SOUNDS A VICTORY.
He was famed for deeds of arms, She a maid of matchless charms; Now to him her love imparts; One pure flame pervades both hearts; Honour calls him to the field, Love to conquest now must yield. “Sweeet maid!” he cries, “again. I’ll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory!”
Battle now with fury glows! Hostile blood in torrents flows! His duty tells him to depart, She press’d her hero to her heart, And now the trumpet sonnds to arms, Amid the clash of war’s alarms. “Sweet maid !” he cries, &c.
No with love and conquest burns, Doth subdue his mind by turns, Death the soldier now enthralls! With his wounds the hero falls! She disdaining war’s alarms, Rush’d and caught him in her arms. “O death!” he cried, “ thou’rt welcome now to me; For, hark! the glad trumpet sounds a victory.”
# The Linnet (1819, Falkirk)/The glad Trumpet sounds a Victory

THE GLAD TRUMPET SOUNDS.
# New minstrel/The Swiss boy

THE SWISS BOY
Come, arouse thee, arouse thee, my brave Swiss ⟨boy⟩ Take thy pail, and to labour away, Come, arouse thee, arouse thee, my brave Swiss ⟨boy⟩ Take thy pail, and to labour away. The sun is up, with ruddy beam, The kine are thronging to the stream. Come, arouse thee, &c.
Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy, When I hie to the mountain away? Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy, When I hie to the mountain away? For there a shepherd maiden dear, Awaits my song with listening ear. Am not I, &c.
Then at night, then at night, O, a gay Swiss ⟨boy⟩ I'm away to my comrades, away. Then at night, then at night, O, a gay Swiss ⟨boy⟩ I'm away to my comrades, away. The cup we fill, the wine is passed, In friendship round, untill at last, With "Good night," and "Good night," goes ⟨a⟩ happy Swiss boy To his home and his slumbers away.
# New minstrel/Alice Gray

SONGS.
ALICE GRAY.
She's all my fancy painted her, She's lovely, she's divine; But her heart it is another's, She never can be mine. Yet loved I as man never loved, A love without decay;- Oh! my heart—my heart is breaking For the love of Alice Gray.
Her dark brown hair is braided o'er A brow of spotless white; Her soft blue eye now languishes— Now flashes with delight; The hair is braided not for me, The eye is turned away; Yet my heart—my heart is breaking For the love of Alice Gray.
I've sunk beneath the summer's sun, And trembled in the blast; But my pilgrimage is nearly done, The weary conflict's past. And when the green sod wraps my grave, May pity haply say, "Oh ! his heart—his heart was broken For the love of Alice Gray!"
# New minstrel/The Anchor's weighed

THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHED.
The tear fell gently from her eye, When last we parted on the shore: My bosom heaved with many a sigh, To think I ne'er might see her more.
​Dear youth, she cried, and canst thou haste away? My heart will break—a little moment stay. Alas! I cannot—I cannot part from thee. The anchor's weighed—farewell! farewell! remember me!
Weep not, my love, I trembling said; Doubt not a constant heart like mine. I ne'er can meet another maid Whose charm can fix my heart like thine.
Go, then, she cried, but let thy constant mind Oft think on her thou leavest in tears behind, A maid—this last embrace my pledge shall be. The anchor's weighed—farewell! farewell! remember me!
# New minstrel/Ye mariners of England

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
Ye mariners of England, Who guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again, To match another foe, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow.
While the stormy winds do blow, While the stormy winds do blow, While the battle rages long and load And the stormy tempests blow.
The spirits of your fathers Will start from every wave; ⟨The deck⟩ it was their field of fame— The ocean was the grave. The Blake and mighty Nelson fell ⟨Our⟩ manly hearts will glow, you sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy winds. &c.
The meteor-flag of England Must yet terrific burn, Till the stormy night of war depart And the star of peace return. ​Then to our faithful mariners The social can shall flow, Who swept through the deep, While the stormy winds did blow.
While the stormy winds did blow, While the stormy winds did blow, While the battle raged long and load, And the storms of war did blow.
# The poetical works of Thomas Campbell/Ye Mariners of England, a Naval Ode

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND
A NAVAL ODE.