Bide A Wee!

Though the times be dark and dreary,
Though the way be long,
Keep your spirits bright and cheery,--
--"Bide a wee, and dinna weary!"
Is a heartsome song.

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

William Arthur Dunkerley, better known by his pen name John Oxenham, was an English journalist, novelist, and poet. He was a prolific writer in the early 20th century, producing a wide range of literary works including poetry, hymns, and novels. His works often reflected Christian themes and were popular during his time. Dunkerley also contributed to the establishment of the Boys' Brigade, a notable youth organization in the UK. His legacy includes a significant contribution to both literature and social causes.

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

Rosemary

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Thy Will Be Done!

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

White Brother

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

The Word That Was Left Unsaid

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Pidgin

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Bide A Wee

    'The puir auld folk at home, ye mind,
    Are frail and failing sair;
    And weel I ken they'd miss me, lad,
    Gin I come hame nae mair.
    The grist is out, the times are hard,
    The kine are only three;
    I canna leave the auld folk now.
    We'd better bide a wee.


    'I fear me sair they're failing baith;
    For when I sit apart,
    They talk o' Heaven so earnestly,
    It well nigh breaks my heart.
    So, laddie, dinna urge me now,
    It surely winna be;
    I canna leave the auld folk yet.
    We'd better bide a wee.'

Louisa May Alcott

Weary Fa' You, Duncan Gray.

Tune - "Duncan Gray."


I.

    Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray,
        Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
    Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray,
        Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
    When a' the lave gae to their play,
    Then I maun sit the lee lang day,
    And jog the cradle wi' my tae,
        And a' for the girdin o't!

II.

    Bonnie was the Lammas moon,
        Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
    Glowrin' a' the hills aboon,
        Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
    The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
    I tint my curch, and baith my shoon;
    Ah! Duncan, ye're an unco loon,
        Wae on the bad girdin o't!

III.

    But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
        Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
    I'se bless you wi' ...

Robert Burns

A Jacobite's Exile

1746
The weary day rins down and dies,
The weary night wears through:
And never an hour is fair wi' flower,
And never a flower wi' dew.
I would the day were night for me,
I would the night were day:
For then would I stand in my ain fair land,
As now in dreams I may.
O lordly flow the Loire and Seine,
And loud the dark Durance:
But bonnier shine the braes of Tyne
Than a' the fields of France;
And the waves of Till that speak sae still
Gleam goodlier where they glance.
O weel were they that fell fighting
On dark Drumossie's day:
They keep their hame ayont the faem,
And we die far away.
O sound they sleep, and saft, and deep,
But night and day wake we;
And ever between the sea-banks green
Sounds loud the sundering sea.
And ill w...

Algernon Charles Swinburne

My Heart Was Ance.

Tune - "To the weavers gin ye go."


I.

    My heart was ance as blythe and free
        As simmer days were lang,
    But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
        Has gart me change my sang.
            To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
                To the weavers gin ye go;
            I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
                To the weavers gin ye go.

II.

    My mither sent me to the town,
        To warp a plaiden wab;
    But the weary, weary warpin o't
        Has gart me sigh and sab.

III.

    A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
        Sat working at his loom;
    He took my heart as wi' a net,
        In every knot and thrum.

IV.

    I sat beside my warpin-whee...

Robert Burns

Bonnie Lassie, Will Ye Go.

Tune - "The birks of Aberfeldy."


Chorus.

    Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
    Will ye go, will ye go;
    Bonnie lassie, will ye go
        To the birks of Aberfeldy?

I.

    Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
    And o'er the crystal streamlet plays;
    Come let us spend the lightsome days
        In the birks of Aberfeldy.

II.

    The little birdies blithely sing,
    While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
    Or lightly flit on wanton wing
        In the birks of Aberfeldy.

III.

    The braes ascend, like lofty wa's,
    The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's,
    O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
        The birks of Aberfeldy.

IV.

    The hoary cliffs a...

Robert Burns

The Last O' The Tinkler

Lay me in yon place, lad,
    The gloamin's thick wi' nicht;
I canna' see yer face, lad,
    For my een's no richt,
But it's owre late for leein',
An' I ken fine I'm deein',
Like an auld craw fleein'
    To the last o' the licht.

The kye gang to the byre, lad,
    An' the sheep to the fauld,
Ye'll mak' a spunk o' fire, lad,
    For my he'rt's turned cauld;
An' whaur the trees are meetin',
There's a sound like waters beatin',
An' the bird seems near to greetin',
    That was aye singin' bauld.

There's jist the tent to leave, lad,
    I've gaithered little gear,
There's jist yersel' to grieve, lad,
    An' the auld dug here;
An' when the morn comes creepin',
An' the waukw'nin' birds are cheipin',
It'll find me lyin' slee...

Violet Jacob