Quotes to inspire and reflect

It’s guid to be merry and wise, It’s guid to be honest and true, It’s guid to support Caledonia’s cause And bide by the buff and the blue.

If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the best of this.

God knows, I’m no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.

For a’ that and a’ that, It’s coming yet, for a’ that, That man to man the world o’er Shall brothers be for a’ that.

For a’ that, and a’ that, An’ twice as muckle ’s a’ that, I’ve lost but ane, I’ve twa behin’, I’ve wife eneugh for a’ that.

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, The man’s the gowd for a’ that.

A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a’ that; But an honest man’s aboon his might, Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that.

Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Now’s the day, and now’s the hour; See the front o’ battle lour! See approach proud Edward’s power—

Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty’s in every blow! Let us do or die!

O Mary, at thy window be! It is the wish’d, the trysted hour.

Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it; But we hae meat, and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thankit.

But, oh! fell death’s untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early.

The golden hours on angel wings Flew o’er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.

“Weel done, Cutty Sark!” 1

She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo’esome wee thing,

Her cutty sark, o’ Paisley harn, That while a lassie she had worn, In longitude tho’ sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie.

As Tammie glow’red, amazed, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

But pleasures are like poppies spread— You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river— A moment white—then melts forever.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi’ usquebae, we’ll face the devil!

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises.

His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; Tam lo’ed him like a vera brither— They had been fou for weeks thegither.

When Nature her great masterpiece design’d, And fram’d her last, best work, the human mind, Her eye intent on all the mazy plan, She form’d of various stuff the various Man.

Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a song in thy praise. My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

The voice of Nature loudly cries, And many a message from the skies, That something in us never dies.

For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet For auld lang syne!

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min’? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o’ auld lang syne?

O whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad: Tho’ father and mither and a’ should gae mad.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birthplace of valor, the country of worth! Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw, But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo!

It was a’ for our rightfu’ King We left fair Scotland’s strand.

Now a’ is done that men can do, And a’ is done in vain.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lov’d sae kindly, Had we never lov’d sae blindly, Never met—or never parted— We had ne’er been brokenhearted.

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell and then forever!

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

Ye banks and braes o’ bonny Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn! Thou minds me o’ departed joys, Departed never to return.

Contented wi’ little and cantie wi’ mair.

O, my Luve is like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June. O, my Luve is like the melodie, That’s sweetly played in tune.

Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Tho’ they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human.

John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all.

I wasna fou, but just had plenty.

Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e’er I spend Are spent among the lasses, O.

There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’, In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o’ man, An’ ’t were nae for the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han’ she tried on man, An’ then she made the lasses, O.

An atheist-laugh’s a poor exchange For Deity offended.

I waive the quantum o’ the sin, The hazard of concealing: But, och! it hardens a’ within, And petrifies the feeling!

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem.