39. Ballad on the American War (Robert Burns Poems)
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood An' did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within ...
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood An' did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within ...
DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw, That Scot to Scot did carry; And dire the discord Langside saw For ...
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth, I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North. Was ...
I GAT your letter, winsome Willie; Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawlie; Tho' I maun say't, I wad be ...
AH, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For sair contention I maun bear; ...
MY girl she's airy, she's buxom and gay; Her breath is as sweet as the blossoms in May; A touch ...
I mind me in the days departed, How often underneath the sun With childish bounds I used to run To ...
NOW, by the verdure on thy thousand hills, Beloved England, doth the earth appear Quite good enough for men to ...
I. Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the ...
1.1 "What is the price of Experience? do men buy it for a song? 1.2 Or wisdom for a dance ...
You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye: You are asleep -- I won't attempt to wake ye. ...
The vision of Christ that thou dost see Is my vision's greatest enemy. Thine has a great hook nose like ...
I was fairly drunk when it began and I took out my bottle and used it along the way. I ...
the lady has me temporarily off the bottle and now the pecker stands up better. however, things change overnight-- instead ...
It's never quite right, he said, the way people look, the way the music sounds, the way the words are ...
I read last Saturday in the redwoods outside of Santa Cruz and I was about 3/4's finished when I heard ...
they found him walking along the freeway all red in front he had taken a rusty tin can and cut ...
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and ...
the best often die by their own hand just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand ...
ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn't come, ...
death wants more death, and its webs are full: I remember my father's garage, how child-like I would brush the ...
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