Thou’s welcome, wean; mishanter fa… If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy ma… Shall ever daunton me or awe me, My sweet wee lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’…

Inscribed to Robert Aiken, Esq. Let not Ambition mock their usefu… Their homely joys and destiny obsc… Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainf… The short and simple annals of the…

HEY, the dusty Miller, And his dusty coat, He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat: Dusty was the coat,

NO churchman am I for to rail and… No statesman nor soldier to plot o… No sly man of business contriving… For a big-belly’d bottle’s the who… The peer I don’t envy, I give him…

HE who of Rankine sang, lies stif… And a green grassy hillock hides h… Alas! alas! a devilish change inde…

O LORD, when hunger pinches sore… Do thou stand us in stead, And send us, from thy bounteous st… A tup or wether head! Amen.———— O Lord, since we have feasted thu…

IN wood and wild, ye warbling thr… Your heavy loss deplore; Now, half extinct your powers of s… Sweet Echo is no more. Ye jarring, screeching things arou…

Is there a whim—inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot fo… Owre blate to seek, owre proud to… Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing doo…

YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain… For few sic feasts you’ve gotten; And fix your claws in Nicol’s hea… For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.

LET other heroes boast their scar… The marks of sturt and strife: And other poets sing of wars, The plagues of human life: Shame fa’ the fun, wi’ sword and g…

NO more of your guests, be they t… And cookery the first in the natio… Who is proof to thy personal conve… Is proof to all other temptation.

Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the West; For there the bony Lassie lives, The Lassie I lo’e best: There’s wild-woods grow, and river…

THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme… Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddes… That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and s…

LORD ADVOCATEHE clenched hi… He quoted and he hinted, Till, in a declamation-mist, His argument he tint it: He gapèd for’t, he grapèd for’t,

‘Wha is that at my bower—door?’ ‘O wha is it but Findlay!’ 'Then gae your gate, ye’se nae be… ‘Indeed maun I,’ quo’ Findlay; 'What mak’ ye, sae like a thief?'