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So far ed mccabe has created 686 blog entries.

Epistle From Esopus To Maria

2018-11-12T18:28:25+00:001794, Epistle, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells; Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, And deal from iron hands the spare repast; Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin, Blush at the curious stranger peeping in; Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar, Resolve to drink, nay, half, to

Charlie, He’s My Darling

2018-11-12T18:28:27+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

'Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier. Chorus-An' Charlie, he's my darling, My darling, my darling, Charlie, he's my darling, The young Chevalier. As he was walking up the street, The city for to view, O there he spied a bonie lass The

Bannocks O’ Bear Meal

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Chorus-Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley, Here's to the Highlandman's Bannocks o' barley! Wha, in a brulyie, will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi' the Bannocks o' barley, Bannocks o' bear meal, &c. Wha, in his waedays, Were loyal to Charlie? Whabutthe lads wi'the Bannocks o' barley! Bannocks o'bearmeal, &c.

A Vision

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

As I stood by yonroofless tower, Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air, Where the howletmourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. The winds were laid, the airwas still, The stars they shot alangthe sky; The fox was howling on the hill, And the distant echoing glens reply. The stream,

A Red, Red Rose

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O my Luve's like a red, redrose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonielass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Tilla'the seas gangdry, my dear, And

A Fiddler In The North

2018-11-12T18:28:36+00:001794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Amang the trees, where humming bees, At buds and flowers were hinging, O, AuldCaledon drew out her drone, And to her pipe was singing, O: 'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels, She dirl'd them afffu'clearly, O: When there cam' a yello'foreign squeels, That dang her tapsalteerie, O. Their caponcraws an'queer "ha, ha's," They made our

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