Now spring has clad the grove in g… And strew’d the lea wi’ flowers; The furrow’d, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers: While ilka thing in nature join

HOW cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter

Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…

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

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and str… The wretch’s destinie! M’Pherson’s time will not be long On yonder gallows—tree. Chorus:

THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,

O were I on Parnassus hill; Or had o’ Helicon my fill; That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee. But Nith maun be my Muses well,

THINE be the volumes, Jessy fai… And with them take the Poet’s pra… That Fate may, in her fairest pag… With ev’ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enroll thy name:

HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv… In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae… Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d 'Mang heaps o’ clavers: And och! o’er aft thy joes hae sta…

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

The Author’s Only Pet Yowe An Unco Mournfu’ Tale As Mailie, an’ her lambs thegithe… Was ae day nibbling on the tether, Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,

AS father Adam first was fool’d, (A case that’s still too common,) Here lies man a woman ruled, The devil ruled the woman.

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over.

Altho’ he has left me for greed o’… I dinna envy him the gains he can… I rather wad bear a’ the lade o’ m… Than ever hae acted sae faithless…

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,