scotland

"The old men sat with hats pulled down, Their claret cups before them: Broad shadows hid their sullen eyes, The tavern lamps shone o’er them, As a brimming bowl, with crystal fill’d, Came borne by the landlord’s daughter, Who wore in her bosom the fair white rose, That grew best over the water.Then all leap’d up, and join’d their hands With hearty clasp and greeting, The brimming cups, outstretch’d by all, Over the wide bowl meeting. “A health,” they cried, “to the witching eyes Of Kate, the landlord’s daughter! But don’t forget the white, white rose That grows best over the water.”Each others’ cups they touch’d all round, The last red drop outpouring; Then with a cry that warm’d the blood, One heart-born chorus roaring— “Let the glass go round, to pretty Kate, The landlord’s black-eyed daughter. But never forget the white, white rose That grows best over the water.”Then hats flew up and swords sprang out, And lusty rang the chorus— “Never,” they cried, “while Scots are Scots, And the broad Frith’s before us.” A ruby ring the glasses shine As they toast the landlord’s daughter, Because she wore the white, white rose That grew best over the water.A poet cried, “Our thistle’s brave, With all its stings and prickles; The shamrock with its holy leaf Is spar’d by Irish sickles. But bumpers round, for what are these To Kate, the landlord’s daughter, Who wears at her bosom the rose as white, That grows best over the water?”They dash’d the glasses at the wall, No lip might touch them after; The toast had sanctified the cups That smash’d against the rafter; Then chairs thrown back, they up again, To toast the landlord’s daughter. But never forgot the white, white rose That grew best over the water."

"He tripp’d up the steps with a bow and a smile, Offering snuff to the chaplain the while, A rose at his button-hole that afternoon— ’Twas the tenth of the month, and the month it was June.Then shrugging his shoulders he look’d at the man With the mask and the axe, and a murmuring ran Through the crowd, who, below, were all pushing to see The gaoler kneel down, and receiving his fee.He look’d at the mob, as they roar’d, with a stare, And took snuff again with a cynical air. “I’m happy to give but a moment’s delight To the flower of my country agog for a sight.”Then he look’d at the block, and with scented cravat Dusted room for his neck, gaily doffing his hat, Kiss’d his hand to a lady, bent low to the crowd, Then smiling, turn’d round to the headsman and bow’d.“God save King James!” he cried bravely and shrill, And the cry reach’d the houses at foot of the hill, “My friend, with the axe, à votre service,” he said; And ran his white thumb ’long the edge of the blade.When the multitude hissed he stood firm as a rock; Then kneeling, laid down his gay head on the block, He kiss’d a white rose, in a moment ’twas red With the life of the bravest of any that bled."

"Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing, Onward, the sailors cry. Carry the lad that’s born to be king Over the sea to Skye.Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar, Thunderclaps rend the air, Baffled, our foes stand by the shore, Follow they will not dare.Many’s the lad fought on that day, Well the claymore could wield, When the night came, silently lay Dead in Culloden’s field.Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep, Ocean’s a royal bed. Rock’d in the deep Flora will keep Watch o’er your weary head.Burned are our homes, exile and death, Scattered the loyal men. Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath, Charlie will come again."

"Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.Mull was astern, Rum on the port, Eigg on the starboard bow; Glory of youth glowed in his soul; Where is that glory now?Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.Give me again all that was there, Give me the sun that shone! Give me the eyes, give me the soul, Give me the lad that’s gone!Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye.Billow and breeze, islands and seas, Mountains of rain and sun, All that was good, all that was fair, All that was me is gone."

"To my true king I offered free from stain Courage and faith; vain faith, and courage vain. For him, I threw lands, honours, wealth, away, And one dear hope, that was more prized than they. For him I languished in a foreign clime, Grey-haired with sorrow in my manhood’s prime; Heard on Lavernia Scargill’s whispering trees, And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees; Beheld each night my home in fevered sleep, Each morning started from the dream to weep; Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave The resting place I asked, an early grave. Oh thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, From that proud country which was once mine own, By those white cliffs I never more must see, By that dear language which I spake like thee, Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear O’er English dust. A broken heart lies here."

"Naething venture, naething have."

"When ae door steeks anither opens."

"Loud cheeps the mouse, when the cat's no rustling."

"Our ain reek's better than ither folk's fire."

"If wishes were horses, beggars wad ride, And a' the world be drown d' in pride."

"The smiths mear and the souters wife are aye warst shod."

"Weel is that weel does."

"The remedy is worse than the disease."

"Time and tide for nae man bide."

"Eagles catch nae flees."

"Gude health is better than wealth."

"Bees that hae honey in their mouths, hae stings in their tales."

"Good ware makes a quick market."

"He that canna do as he would maun do as he may."

"If ifs and ans were kettles and pans, there would be nae use for tinklers."

"It is a mean mouse that has but ae hole."

"Necessity ' s the mither o invention."

"Speak well of the highlands, but dwell in the laigh."

"What carlins hain, cats eat."

"A gude beginning maks a gude ending."

"Ye maun tak the will for the deed."

"By chance a cripple may catch a hare."

"Happy for the son, when the dad gaes to the deil."

"Seldom lies the dell dead by the dyke side."

"The nearer the bane the sweeter."

"A close mouth catches nae flees."

"A fule may gie a wise man counsel."

"Anger begins wi' folly, and ends wi' repentance."

"As the old Cock craws, the young Cock lears."

"Delays are dangerous."

"Diffidence is the mother o' safety."

"Eild should hae honour."

"Empty barrels mak maist din."

"He gangs lang barefoot that waits for dead men's shune."

"He suld hae a langshankit spune that wad sup kail wi the deil."

"He that keeks through a keyhole may see what will vex him."

"He wha marries for love without money, has merry nights and surry days."

"If ye like the nut, crack it."

"In at ae lug and out at the ither."

"It was often asked how it was that Scotland was a democratic country. He believed that the root causes of the spirit of democracy in its truest and highest sense still prevailed and would prevail in Scotland. Some said that the Scottish people were democrats because of John Knox and the parish schools; some said it was due to Burns, who was the truest democrat who ever wrote a verse; some said it was the Presbyterian form of ecclesiastical organisation. He would be content with the result that, somehow or other, there was in that part of the island a sort of reservoir of democratic man-to-man feeling which they hardly found in any other part of the United Kingdom."

"[Upon King James VI's coronation as King of Scots] Sirrah! Ye are God's vassal; there are twa kingdoms in Scotland; there is Christ Jesus the King of the Kirk, whose subject King James VI is, and of whose kingdom he is not a king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member."

"For real dangers the people of England and Scotland form perhaps the bravest people in the world. At any rate, there is no people in the world to whom they are prepared to surrender or to whom one would ask them to surrender the palm of bravery. But I am sorry to say there is another aspect of the case, and for imaginary dangers there is no people in the world who in a degree is anything like the English in regard to being the victim of absurd and idle fancies. It is notorious all over the world. The French, we think, are an excitable people; but the French stand by in amazement at the passion of fear and fury into which an Englishman will get him when he is dealing with an imaginary danger."

"NEVER forget that we are the bastard people of a mongrel nation."

"The rose of all the world is not for me. I want for my part Only the little white rose of Scotland That smells sharp and sweet - and breaks the heart."

"I feel with a peculiar sympathy all that relates to Scotland. The natives of Scotland, and all those who have Scotch blood in their veins—particularly if, like me, they only have Scotch blood in their veins—are not apt to forget the country from which they sprang. They know its great qualities. They know the solidity of its character."