Let Loove Sparkle Ithers seek they kenna what, Features, carriage and a’ that; Gie me loove in her I court - Loove to loove maks a’ the sport.

Now in her green mantle blythe Na… And listens the lambkins that blea… While birds warble welcomes in ilk… But to me it’s delightless-my Nan… The snawdrap and primrose our wood…

A Guide New—year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe—backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…

LORD, we thank, and thee adore, For temporal gifts we little merit… At present we will ask no more— Let William Hislop give the spiri…

Here Holy Willie’s sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta’en some other way, I fear, the left—hand road. Stop! there he is, as sur’s a gun,

She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo’esome wee thing, This dear wee wife o’ mine. I never saw a fairer,

My heart is a—breaking, dear Titt… Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fello…

The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or, the stormy north sends driving… The blinding sleet and snaw: While tumbling brown, the burn com…

If ye gae up to yon hill—tap, Ye’ll there see bonie Peggy; She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth’s a leddy. There Sophy tight, a lassie brigh…

SOME books are lies frae end to… And some great lies were never pen… Ev’n ministers they hae been kenn’… In holy rapture, A rousing whid at times to vend,

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddi… Willie was a wabster guid Could stown a clue wi onie body. He had a wife was dour and din,

ONCE fondly lov’d, and still rem… Sweet early object of my youthful… Accept this mark of friendship, wa… Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now… And when you read the simple artle…

My mither sent me tae the moss For to gaither peats and dross. I cowpit the cairt and hanged the… An whistle ow’r the lave o’t. My mither sent me tae the well

NO more, ye warblers of the wood!… Nor pour your descant grating on m… Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in th… More welcome were to me grim Wint… How can ye charm, ye flowers, with…

Talk not of love, it gives me pain… For love has been my foe; He bound me in an iron chain, And plung’d me deep in woe. But friendship’s pure and lasting…