The Daft-Days - by
Now mirk December’s dowie face
/ Glowrs owr the rigs wi sour grimace,
/ While, thro’ his minimum of space,
/ …
Now mirk December’s dowie face
/ Glowrs owr the rigs wi sour grimace,
/ While, thro’ his minimum of space,
/ …
… Now morn, with bonny purpie-smiles,
/ Kisses the air-cock o’ St Giles;
/ Rakin their een, the servant lasses
/ Early begin their lies and…
From the corner of Scotland I know so well
/ I see Edinburgh sprawling like seven cats
/ on its seven hills beside…
Quhy will ye, merchantis of renoun,
/ Lat Edinburgh, your nobill toun,
/ For laik of reformatioun
/ The commone proffeitt tyine, and…
To provide the best experiences, we use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behaviour or unique IDs on this site. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
We use privacy-focused tracking technologies to help us understand and improve the experience of our visitors. We track activity, not users, but you can still object to this tracking via our cookie policy.