Donuil Dhu
Piping down the valleys wild
Proud Maisie in the wood

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair

Red rows the Nith 'tween bank and brae
Rich and rare were the gems she wore
Rose cheek'd Laura, come

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled
Shall I, wasting in despair
She dwelt among untrodden ways
She is a winsome wee thing
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps
She stood breast high among the corn
She walks in beauty like the night
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more
Sing his praises, that doth keep
Some asked me where the rubies grew
Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Some years of late, in eighty-eight
So now is come our joyfullest part
So, we'll go no more a-roving
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king
Still to be neat, still to be drest
Sweet and low, sweet and low
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright
Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder town

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
Tell me, where is fancy bred
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold
The boy stood on the burning deck
The breaking waves dashed high
The bride cam' out o' the byre
The deil cam' fiddlin' thro' the toun
The feathered songster chanticleer
The fountains mingle with the river
The glories of our blood and state
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The King sits in Dunfermline town
The laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an' he 's great
The lawns were dry in Euston park
The minstrel boy to the war is gone
There be none of Beauty's daughters
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
There come seven gypsies on a day
There is a garden in her face
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
There was a youth, a well beloved youth
There was three kings into the East
There were three ladies play'd at the ba'
There were three sailors of Bristol city
The splendour falls on castle walls
The stars are with the voyager
The stately homes of England
The time I've lost in wooing
They grew in beauty side by side
Three fishers went sailing out into the west
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
'Tis the last rose of summer
Toll for the brave
Turn, gentle hermit of the dale
'Twas in the prime of summer time

Under the greenwood tree

Was this fair face the cause, quoth she
Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'
When all among the thundering drums
When all is done and said
When Britain first, at Heaven's command
When cats run home, and light is come
When daffodils begin to peer,
When daisies pied and v