OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Book of Scottish Song/Our ain Land

Our ain Land.
[William Ferousson.—Here first printed.—Tune, "John Barleycorn." The two first lines of this chorus are from a song by Hew Ainslie in his "Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns."]
Hurrah, and hurrah, And hurrah, my merry men! I wadna gi'e our ain land For a' the lands I ken. ​There may be lands where safter airs Float down mair flowery vales— Gi'e me the stirring mountain-breeze, That swells our norlan' sails:— And weel ye ken we've flowers enow, Their names I needna tell, We've aye the fearless thistle, lads! And eke the sweet blue-bell. Then hurrah, &c.
They boast o' lands wi' fairer skies, And fields o' brighter bloom: But leeze me on our heather-land, Wi' a' its hamely gloom:— And, tent me weel, there's mony a blink Its darksome moods atween; Sweet sunny blinks, that paint our hills Wi' tints o' gowd and green. Then hurrah, &c.
They sing o' lands where liberty Has reared hersel' a hame— And blest be they! for her dear sake, We lo'e their very name:— But by the men wha 'mang our hills For freedom battled lang, Auld Scotland yet shall bear the bell For liberty and sang! Then hurrah, &c.
I've worshipp'd on its mountain tops; I've woo'd amang its dells; And happy been in mony a cot, Where love, where beauty dwells. Its green turf covers mony a grave O friends we lost langsyne: And may the same dear, fragrant sod, Lie saftly upon mine! Then hurrah, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Our gudeman's an unco body

Our gudeman's an unco body.
[Thomas Dodd.—Here first printed. Tune, "Oh, are ye sleeping, Maggy."]
Our gudeman's an unco body, Our gudeman's an unco body, Ilka plack that he can mak', He'd drink an' mair than that,—'tweel wad he!
I wrought an' toil'd to buy a cleuk. When I had just ae groat to win o't, I hid it in the aumery neuk, Fu' glad to think he wadna ken o't.
Oh, he's an unco body, Oh, he's a drouthy body; He drank it, sirs, and pawn'd my purse, Tho' my auld cleuk is wearing duddy.
But when he fu' comes hame at e'en, He's sic a takin' gate aye wi' him, I sigh and think on what he's been, I flyte awee, an' just forgi'e him. ​Though he's an unco body, Oh, he's a kindly body, The wee drap maut is a' his faut— I like a drap mysel' in toddy.
Twa score an' ten has cool'd his bluid, And whiles he needs a drap to warm him, But when he tak's 't to do him guid, He whiles forgets, and tak's 't to harm him.
Though he's an unco body, O he's a takin' body, Ilka year mak's him mair dear, Though it may mak' his cheek less ruddy.
When twa ha'e wrought, an' twa ha'e fought For thretty year sae leal thegither, A faut or flaw is nought ava', They may weel gree wi' ane anither.
Though he's an unco body, O he's a loving body, For a' that's gane he's aye my ain, An' I maun just his failing study.
# The Book of Scottish Song/On wi' the Tartan

On wi' the Tartan.
[Hugh Ainslie.]
Can ye lo'e, my dear lassie, The hills wild and free, Whar the sang o' the shepherd Gars a' ring wi' glee? Or the steep rocky glens, Where the wild falcons bide? Then on wi' the tartan, And fy let us ride!
Can ye lo'e the knowes, lassie, That ne'er war in rigs? Or the bonnie loune lee, Where the sweet robin biggs? Or the sang o' the lintie,
Whan wooin' his bride? Then on wi' the tartan, And fy let us ride!
Can ye lo'e the burn, lassie. That loups amang linns? Or the bonnie green howmes Where it cannilie rins? Wi' a cantie bit housie, Sae snug by its side? Then on wi' the tartan, And fy let us ride!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Open the door to me

Open the door to me.
[Written or altered by Burns for Thomson's collection.]
Oh, open the door, some pity show Oh, open the door to me, oh! Though thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Oh, open the door to me, oh!
Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, But caulder thy love for me, oh! The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh!
The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, oh: False friends, false love, farewell! for mair I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, oh!
She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide She sees his pale corse on the plain, oh! My true love, she cried, and sunk down by his side, Never to rise again, oh!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Oscar's Ghost

Oscar’s Ghost.
[Written by Miss Anne Keith, otherwise called Mrs. Murray Keith, a lady whom Sir Walter Scott has portrayed in the Introduction to the Chronicles of the Canongate, under the name of Mrs. Bethune Baliol. She was born in 1736, and died in April, 1818. In a letter to Terry, dated 18th April, 1818, Sir Walter says, "You will be sorry to hear that we have lost our excellent old friend, Mrs. Murray Keith. Much tradition, and of the very best kind, has died with this excellent old lady; one of the few persons whose spirits and cleanliness, and freshness of mind and body, made old age lovely and desirable."—The music to "Oscar's Ghost" is by Mrs. Tough.]
O, see that form that faintly gleams! 'Tis Oscar come to cheer my dreams! On wings of wind he flies away; O stay, my lovely Oscar, stay!
Wake, Ossian, last of Fingal's line, And mix thy tears and sighs with mine; Awake the harp to doleful lays, And soothe my soul with Oscar's praise.
The shell is ceased in Oscar's hall, Since gloomy Kerbar wrought his fall; The roe on Morven lightly bounds, Nor hears the cry of Oscar's hounds.
# The Book of Scottish Song/One day I heard Mary

One day I heard Mary.
[This was written by Robert Crawfurd to the tune of "I'll never leave thee," and printed in the Tea-Table Miscellany.]
One day I heard Mary say, how shall I leave thee? Stay, dearest Adonis, stay; why wilt thou grieve me? Alas! my fond heart will break, if thou should leave me: I'll live and die for thy salve, yet never leave thee.
Say, lovely Adonis, say, has Mary deceived thee? Did e'er her young heart betray new love, that has grieved thee? My constant mind ne'er shall stray, thou may believe me. I'll love thee, lad, night and day, and never leave thee.
Adonis, my charming youth, what can relieve thee? Can Mary thy anguish soothe? This breast shall receive thee. My passion can ne'er decay, never deceive thee; Delight shall drive pain away, pleasure revive thee.
But leave thee, leave thee, lad, how shall I leave thee? Oh! that thought makes me sad; I'll never leave thee! Where would my Adonis fly? Why does he grieve me? Alas! my poor heart will die, if I should leave thee.
# The Cambridge Carol Book/With melody, O Christ, hymn we

XLVI. WITH MELODY, O CHRIST, HYMN WE
With melody, O Christ, hymn we Thy victory. As this day saw Thee win it, We will be joyful in it. Alleluia.
# The Cambridge Carol Book/Zacchaeus climbs a tree

LIII. ZACCHAEUS CLIMBS A TREE
(Zacchaeus arboris)
1.Zacchaeus climbs a tree, a sycomore it is, To catch a glimpse of Christ, the King of heav'nly bliss.
2.When Jesus pass'd the place, He lift His blessèd eyes, And to Zacchaeus gave commandment on this wise:
​3.'Zacchaeus, haste thee down, and hither to My side! For at thy house to-day I must with thee abide.'
4.Then did Zacchaeus make our Lord a welcome guest, And entertain'd Him well, not sparing of his best:
5.The chamber of his heart he oped, and said moreo'er, 'Where I have wrongèd man, there four-fold I restore:
6.'With half-part of my goods the beggar's want I ease.' God loveth well such faith, and works, the like of these.
7.Then merry make we, for the Feast requires it so: Benédicámus Dóminórum Dómino!
8.So praise the Three in One! and after time of Mass, Deó dicámus infinitas gracias!
# The Book of Scottish Song/As I cam' down

As I cam' down.
[Burns says that this song was very popular in Ayrshire. He sent a copy of the words and music to Johnson for insertion in his Museum.]
As I cam' doun by yon castle wa', And in by yon garden green, O there I spied a bonnie, bonnie lass,— But the flower borders were us between.
A bonnie, bonnie lassie she was, As ever mine eyes did see: O five hundred pounds would I give, For to have such a pretty bride as thee.
To have such a pretty bride as me, Young man, ye are surely mista'en; Though ye were king o' fair Scotland, I wad disdain to be your queen.
Talk not so very high, bonnie lass, O talk not so very, very high; The man it the fair that wad sell, He maun learn at the man that wad buy.
I trust to climb a far higher tree, And harry a far richer nest: Tak' this advice o' me, bonnie lass, Humility wad set thee best.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Annie Laurie

Annie Laurie.
[These two verses," says Mr. Robert Chambers, "which are in a style wonderfully tender and chaste for their age, were written by a Mr. Douglass of Finland, upon Anne, one of the four daughters of Sir Robert Laurie, first baronet of Maxwelton, by his second wife, who was a daughter of Riddell of Minto. As Sir Robert was created a baronet in the year 1685, it is probable that the verses were composed about the end of the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century. It is painful to record, that, notwithstanding the ardent and chivalrous affection displayed by Mr. Douglas in his poem, he did not obtain the heroine for a wife: she was married to Mr. Ferguson of Craigdarroch."]
Maxwelton banks are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew; Where me and Annie Laurie Made up the promise true; Made up the promise true, And never forget will I; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'll lay me doun and die.
She's backit like the peacock, She's breistit like the swan, She's jimp about the middle, Her waist ye weel micht span; ​Her waist ye weel micht span, And she has a rolling eye; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'll lay me down and die.
MODERN VERSION.
Maxwelton braes are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gied me her promise true; Gied me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee.
Her brow is like the snaw-drift, Her throat is like the swan, Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on; That e'er the sun shone on, And dark blue is her e'e; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee.
Like dew on the gowan lying, Is the fa' o' her fairy feet, And like winds in summer sighing, Her voice is low and sweet. Her voice is low and sweet, And she is a' the world to me; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Andro and his cutty gun

Andro and his cutty gun.
[The lively and popular tune of "Andro and his cutty gun," otherwise known by the name of "Blythe, blythe and merry was she," is old. The song is given in the fourth vol. of the Tea-Table Miscellany, without any mark. "This blythsome song," says Burns, "so full of Scottish humour and convivial merriment, is an intimate favourite at bridal trystes and house-heatings. It contains a spirited picture of a country ale-house, touched off with all the lightsome gayety so peculiar to the rural muse of Scotland." Elsewhere, in a letter to Thomson (Nov. 19, 1794) "'Andro and his cutty gun' is the work of a master." A "Hawick gill," alluded to in the chorus, was a double gill: a "tappit-hen" was a quart stoup with a nob on the top of the lid.]
Blythe, blythe, and merry was she, Blythe was she but and ben; And weel she loo'd a Hawick gill, And leugh to see a tappit hen.
She took me in, and set me down, And hecht to keep me lawing-free;
But, cunning carline that she was, She gart me birl my bawbee.
We loo'd the liquor well enough; But waes my heart my cash was done,
Before that I had quench'd my drouth, And laith I was to pawn my shoon.
When we had three times toom'd our stoup, And the neist chappin new begun,
Wha started in, to heeze our hope, But Andro wi' his cutty gun.
The carline brought her kebbuck ben, With girdle-cakes weel toasted brown,
Weel does the canny kimmer ken They gar the swats gae glibber down.
We ca'd the bicker aft about; Till dawning we ne'er jee'd our bun,
And aye the cleanest drinker out, Was Andro wi' his cutty gun.
He did like ony mavis sing, And as I in his oxter sat He ca'd me aye his bonnie thing, And mony a sappy kiss I gat.
I ha'e been east, I ha'e been west, I ha'e been far ayont the sun;
But the blythest lad that e'er I saw, Was Andro wi' his cutty gun.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Anna 1

Anna.
[John Sim.—Air, "Ye banks and braes," &c.]
O fare thee weel, fair Cartha's side, For ever, ever fare thee weel! Upon thy banks I've oft enjoy'd What virtuous love alone can feel. With Anna as I fondly stray'd, And mark'd the gowan's hamely mien, The vi'let blue, the primrose gay, Enrich'd the joyful fairy scene.
The sun had set, the western clouds Began to lose their radiance bright, The mavis' tuneful note was hush'd. And all proclaim'd approaching night; Then was the time I fondly pour'd In Anna's ear my ardent tile, She blush'd, and oft I fondly thought That love like mine would soon prevail.
She spoke, she look'd as if she lov'd, Yet, ah! how false was Anna's heart! Though heavenly fair her angel form,— How fraught with guile, how full of art! Now far from Anna, far from home, By Lugar's stream I sadly mourn; I think on scenes I still must love, On scenes that never can return.
O fare thee weel, fair Cartha's banks, And Anna—O!—a long fareweel! Nor ever may that pang be thine, Which my sad heart so oft doth feel. But happy, happy may'st thou be, By fairy scenes on Cartha's side, And may a better far than me, Through life be thy true love and guide.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Argyll is my name

Argyll is my name.
[Attributed to the celebrated John, Duke of Argyll and Greenwich, who figures so favourably in the "Heart of Midlothian" as the patron of Jeanie Deans. He died in 1743, at the age of sixty-three. A modified version of the song, by Sir Alex. Boswell, Bart. of Auchinleck, is given in the 3d. vol. of George Thomson's collection.—Air, "Bannocks o' barley."]
Argyll is my name, and you may think it strange, To live at a court, yet never to change; A' falsehood and flattery I do disdain, In my secret thoughts nae guile does remain. My king and my country's foes I have faced, In city or battle I ne'er was disgraced; I do every thing for my country's weal, And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
Adieu to the courtie of London town, For to my ain countrie I will gang down; At the sight of Kirkaldy ance again, I'll cock up my bonnet, and march amain. O, the muckle deil tak' a' your noise and strife: I'm fully resolved for a country life, Whare a' the braw lasses, wha ken me weel, Will feed me wi' bannocks o' barley meal.
I will quickly lay down my sword and my gun, And put my blue bonnet and my plaidie on; With my silk tartan hose, and leather-heel'd shoon, And then I will look like a sprightly loon. And when I'm sae dress'd frae tap to tae, To meet my dear Maggie I vow I will gae, Wi' target and hanger hung down to my heel; And I'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
I'll buy a rich garment to gi'e to my dear, A ribbon o' green for Maggie to wear; And mony thing brawer than that I declare, Gin she will gang wi' me to Paisley fair. And when we are married, I'll keep her a cow, And Maggie will milk when I gae to plow; We'll live a' the winter on beef and lang kail, And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
Gin Maggie should chance to bring me a son, He'll fight for his king, as his daddy has done; He'll hie him to Flanders, some breeding to learn, And then hame to Scotland, and get him a farm. ​And there we will live by our industry, And wha'll be sae happy as Maggie and me? We'll a' grow as fat as a Norway seal, Wi' our feasting on bannocks o' barley meal.
Then fare ye weel, citizens, noisy men, Wha jolt in your coaches to Drury Lane; Ye bucks o' Bear-garden, I bid you adieu, For drinking and swearing, I leave it to you. I'm fairly resolved for a country life, And nae langer will live in hurry and strife; I'll aff to the Highlands as hard's I can reel, And whang at the bannocks o' barley meal.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Arran Maid

Arran Maid.
[Written by Robert Allan. Music composed by Alex. Lee. For one or two voices.]
Speed, O speed, thou bonnie bark! An' blaw, thou gentle gale; An' waft me to my native shore, An' sweet Glen-Rosa vale. Glen-Rosa! thou art clear to me, An' dear to me the shade, Where I ha'e woo'd, where I ha'e won, My lovely Arran maid; Where I ha'e woo'd, &c.
When hung the mist upon the brae, An' thunder loud would swell, In echoes from the rugged cliff, An' down the hollow dell; Ev'n then, amid Glen-Rosa's wilds, I ha'e delighted stray'd, To win the smile of that dear ane, My lovely Arran maid.
When flowers were waving owre the stream, An' blooming in their prime, An' owre the towering Goatfell hung, The harebell and the thyme. 'Twas sweet to climb the airy height, Or ream the dusky glade, Wi' thee my heart sae fondly woo'd, My lovely Arran maid.
O were I chief of Arran's isle, Its hills and glens sae steep, Nae mair my bark would beat the wave, Nae mair would plough the deep, Glen-Rosa! I would haunt thy bowers, Nor seek a sweeter shade, Than thine, with Rosie in my arms, My lovely Arran maid.
# The Book of Scottish Song/And can thy bosom

And can thy bosom.
[Goldie.—Air, "Loudon's bonnie woods and braes."]
And can thy bosom bear the thought, To part frae love and me, laddie? Are all those plighted vows forgot, Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie? Can'st thou forget the midnight hour, When in yon love-inspiring bower, You vow'd by every heavenly power, You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie. Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me, Win my heart, and then deceive me? Oh! that heart will break, believe me, Gin ye part wi' me laddie.
Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek, Aft prais'd my sparkling e'e, laddie, Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek, But love and live wi'me, laddie. But soon those cheeks will lose their red, Those eyes in endless sleep be hid, And 'neath the turf the heart be laid, That beats for love, and thee, laddie. Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me, Win my heart and then deceive me? Oh! that heart will break, believe me, Gin ye part frae me, laddie.
You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair, Where rarer beauties shine, laddie, But oh! the heart can never bear, A love sae true as mine, laddie. But when that heart is laid at rest, That heart that lo'ed ye last and best, Oh, then the pangs that rend thy breast, Will sharper be than mine, laddie. Broken vows will vex and grieve me, Till a broken heart relieve me, Yet its latest thought, believe me, Will be love and thine, laddie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Ane-and-twenty, Tam

Ane-and-twenty, Tam.
[It Is said that Burns wrote this charming little song on a real inoident. A young girl, pcssessed of some property which would be at her own disposal when she attained majority, was urged by her relations to accept an old and wealthy suitor. This she refused, as her affections were already placed on one whose youth, if not worldly circumstances, was more in accordance with her own—and the song is supposed to express her own feelings on the subject to her favoured lover, and particularly the ardent desire she entertained to reach that age when she would be mistress of herself, and able to prove the sincerity of her attachment. The song is sung to a lively old tune called "The Moudiewort."]
And oh, for ane-and-twenty, Tam! And hey, for ane-and-twenty, Tam! I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang, Gin I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
They snool me sair, and haud me down, And gar me look like bluntie, Tam; But three short years will soon wheel roun', And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.
A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear, Were left me by my auntie, Tam; At kith and kin I needna speir, Gin I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
They'll ha'e me wed a wealthy coof, Though I mysel' ha'e plenty, Tam; But hear'st thou, laddie?—there's my lufe,— I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam!
# The Book of Scottish Song/An thou were my ain thing

An thou were my ain thing.
[The fine air "An thou were my ain thing" is to be found in Gordon of Straloch's MS. Lute Book, written at Aberdeen in 1627. How much older it may be cannot be determined. The following song (with the exception of the first verse, "I would clasp," &c.) appears in the first volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, where it is marked with an X, implying that it is by an unknown author. The first verse is to be found in the Orpheus Caledonius.]
An thou were my ain thing, I would lo'e thee, I would lo'e thee; An thou were my ain thing, How dearly would I lo'e thee!
I would clasp thee in my arms, I'd secure thee from all harms; For above mortal thou hast charms: How dearly do I lo'e thee! An thou were, &c.
Of race divine thou needs must be, Since nothing earthly equals thee, So I must still presumptuous be, To show how much I lo'e thee. An thou were, &c.
The gods one thing peculiar have, To ruin none whom they can save; O, for their sake, support a slave, Who only lives to lo'e thee. An thou were, &c.
To merit I no claim can make, But that I lo'e, and, for your sake,
What man can more, I'll undertake, So dearly do I lo'e thee. An thou were, &c.
My passion, constant as the sun, Flames stronger still, will ne'er have done,
Till fates my thread of life have spun, Which breathing out, I'll lo'e thee. An thou were, &c.
[Continuation by Ramsay, from Tea-Table Miscellany.]
Like bees that suck the morning dew, Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue, Sae wad I dwell upo' thy mou', And gar the gods envy me. An thou were, &c.
Sae lang's I had the use of light, I'd on thy beauties feast my sight, Syne in soft whispers through the night, I'd tell how much I loo'd thee. An thou were, &c.
How fair and ruddy is my Jean, She moves a goddess o'er the green; Were I a king, thou should be queen, Nane but mysel' aboon thee. An thou were, &c.
I'd grasp thee to this breast of mine, Whilst thou, like ivy, or the vine, Around my stronger limbs should twine, Form'd hardy to defend thee. An thou were, &c.
Time's on the wing, and will not stay, In shining youth let's make our hay, Since love admits of nae delay, O let nae scorn undo thee. An thou were, &c.
While love does at his altar stand, Ha'e there's my heart, gi'e me thy hand, And with ilk smile thou shalt command The will of him wha loves thee. An thou were, &c.
# The Boy Travellers in Australasia

THE BOY TRAVELLERS IN
AUSTRALASIA
ADVENTURES OF TWO YOUTHS IN A JOURNEY TO
THE SANDWICH, MARQUESAS, SOCIETY, SAMOAN, AND FEEJEE ISLANDS, AND THROUGH THE COLONIES OF NEW ZEALAND, NEW SOUTH WALES QUEENSLAND, VICTORIA, TASMANIA, AND SOUTH AUSTRALIA
BY
THOMAS W. KNOX
AUTHOR OF "THE BOY TRAVELLERS IN THE FAR EAST" "IN SOUTH AMERICA" "IN RUSSIA" AND "ON THE CONGO" "THE YOUNG NIMRODS" "THE VOYAGE OF THE 'VIVIAN'" ETC.
Illustrated
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1889
Frontispiece
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 Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Belgian National Anthem

8—BELGIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM
O Belgium, Oh our loved home
To thee our hearts, to thee our arms,
To thee our lives, oh motherland,
Shall we give that thou mayest live.
Thou shalt live grand and beautiful
And thy unconquered unity
Shall forever live in immortality,
For King, for law, for liberty.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Beware of Chu Chin Chow

From Zig-Zag! (1917)
18—BEWARE OF CHU CHIN CHOW (Zig-Zag)
Beware of Chu Chin Chow, Take care, he's coming now. He's a robber from the Orient, And he's fill'd with Chinese sentiment. At night when lights are low He wanders to and fro, He's the master of his art, He can steal a girlie's heart; Love he'll plunder, he's a wonder, Chu Chin Chow.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Can't You See I Mean You

From Theodore & Co (1917)
16—CAN'T YOU SEE I MEAN YOU (Theodore & Co.)
All that I want is somebody to love me
And to love me well
Very well
Morning and night to be ready and willing
Of that love to tell
Very well
Holding my hand as in fancy we wander
Through this great big world for two.
All that I want is somebody to love me,
Can't you see I mean you.