Yer Hard Edged Dictionary o' Glaswegian and Scottish words.

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Right - here's awe the stuff thit's oan the site.


Glaswegian Words

Doric Words

Gaelic Words

Top 10 Scottish Words


Rabbie Burns Poems

Stuart McLean Poems

McGonagall Poems

Top 100 Scottish Songs

Top 100 Scottish Rhymes

Funny Scottish Scripts


Scottish Cities

Scottish Towns

Scottish Islands

Islands by Size

Scottish Munro's

Scottish Lochs

Scottish Rivers

Scottish Whisky


Scottish Boys Names

Scottish Girls Names


Doric Carnival


Images of Scotland


Glasgow Race for Life

Glasgow Race for Life 09

 

Scottish & Scotland


Funny Books by thon Scottish guy Stuart McLean - available UK, Canada, USA and ither countries.

Noo go an get wan - right!


 

No' Rabbie Burns - funny Scottish Poems

Rabbie Burns Scottish Poet Books

Why Did the Haggis Cross the Road? - hilarious Scottish jokes.

why-did-the-haggis-cross-the-road

A Midge in Your Hand is Worth Two Up Your Kilt - witty Scottish proverbs.

A Midge in Your Hand is Worth Two Up Your Kilt

Ned Speak

Learn  the lingo of the Scottish Ned - and you will love them even more.

glasgow slang words

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Poems by famous Scottish Poet Robert (Rabbie) Burns

Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots, On the Apporch of Spring by Robert Burns

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daises white
Out o'er the grassy lea
Now Pheebus cheers the crystal streams,
And glads the azure skies;
But nought can glad the weary wight
That fast in durance lies.

Now laverocks wake the merry morn
Aloft on dewy wing;
The merle, in his noontide bow'r,
Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis wild ai' mony a note,
Sings drowsy day to reast
In love and freedom they rejoice,
Wi' care nor thrall opprest.

Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae:
The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove their sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.

I was the Queen o' bonie France,
Where happy I hae been;
Fu' lightly raise I in the morn,
As blythe lay down at e'en:
And I'm the sov'reign of Scotland,
And mony a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
And never-ending care.

But as for thee, thou false woman,
My sister and my fae,
Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword
That thro' thy soul shall gae;
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Was never known to thee;
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe
Frae woman's pitying e'e.

My son! my son! may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine;
And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne'er wad blink on mine!
God keep thee frae my mother's faes,
Or turn their hearts to thee:
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
Remember him for me!

O! soon, to me, may Summer suns
Nae mair light up the morn!
Nae mair to me the Autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn?
And, in the narrow house of death,
Let Winter round me rave;
And the next flow'rs that deck the Spring,
Bloom on my peaceful grave!

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John Logie Baird and Television : Images Across Space by yon smart guy Dr. Douglas Brown

John Logie Baird

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NOTE: The contents of this site are copyright Stuart McLean / Stuart Macfarlane and should not be used in any way without permission. Many of the images on the site have been submitted by visitors - we believe these to be copyright free - however, if you own copyright to any, please let us know and they will be removed or suitable attribution included.

If you spot any errors or have other Glaswegian, Scottish or Doric works you would like added to our list please drop us an email.

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