SHREWD Willie Smellie to Croch… The old cock’d hat, the grey surto… His bristling beard just rising in… 'Twas four long nights and days to… His uncomb’d grizzly locks, wild s…

TO you, sir, this summons I’ve se… Pray, whip till the pownie is frea… But if you demand what I want, I honestly answer you—naething. Ne’er scorn a poor Poet like me,

I Hae a wife o’ my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll tak Cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie Cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend,

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among t… Flow gently, I’ll sing thee a son… My Mary’s asleep by thy murmuring… Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb… Thou stock—dove, whose echo resoun…

IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine, The deil gat stuff to mak a swine, An’ coost it in a corner; But wilily he chang’d his plan, An’ shap’d it something like a man…

Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;

CA’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. Hark! the mavis’ evening sang

Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,

O Thou Great Being! what Thou ar… Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. Thy creature here before Thee sta…

Fair Empress of the poet’s soul, And Queen of poetesses; Clarinda, take this little boon, This humble pair of glasses: And fill them up with generous jui…

Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory, Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish nam… Sae fam’d in martial story. Now Sark rins o’er the Solway san…

Inhuman man! curse on thy barb’rou… And blasted by thy murder—aiming e… May never pity soothe thee with a… Nor never pleasure glad thy cruel… Go live, poor wanderer of the wood…

It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light… I held awa to Annie: The time flew by, wi’ tentless hee…

As I was a—wand’ring ae morning i… I heard a young ploughman sae swee… And as he was singin’, thir words… There’s nae life like the ploughma… The lav’rock in the morning she’ll…