1 Is there, for honest poverty… 2 That hings his head, an’… 3 The coward slave, we pass hi… 4 We dare be poor for a’ t… 5 For a’ that, an’ a’…

WAE worth thy power, thou cursed… Fell source o’ a’ my woe and grief… For lack o’ thee I’ve lost my las… For lack o’ thee I scrimp my glas… I see the children of affliction

HERE’S to thy health, my bonie l… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee. O dinna think, my pretty pink,

Air—“Deil tak the wars.” Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passio… Poor is all that princely pride.

O COULD I give thee India’s we… As I this trifle send; Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. But golden sands did never grace

CEASE, ye prudes, your envious r… Lovely Burns has charms’€”confess… True it is, she had one failing, Had a woman ever less?

WHILE at the stook the shearers… To shun the bitter blaudin’ show’r… Or in gulravage rinnin scowr To pass the time, To you I dedicate the hour

Now simmer blinks on flow’ry braes… And o’er the crystal streamlet pla… Come, let us spend the lightsome d… In the birks of Aberfeldie! Bonnie lassie, will ye go,

Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble blui… Because ye’re surnam’d like His G…

All devil as I am—a damned wretch… A hardened, stubborn, unrepenting… Still my heart melts at human wret… And with sincere but unavailing si… I view the helpless children of di…

DOES haughty Gaul invasion threa… Then let the louns beware, Sir; There’s wooden walls upon our seas… And volunteers on shore, Sir: The Nith shall run to Corsincon,

THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concer… I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne’er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae,

DAUGHTER of Chaos’ doting year… Nurse of ten thousand hopes and fe… Whether thy airy, insubstantial sh… (The rights of sepulture now duly… Spread abroad its hideous form

Hear, Land o’ Cakes, and brither… Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat’… If there’s a hole in a’ your coats… I rede you tent it: A chield’s amang you takin notes,

THERE’S Death in the cup, so be… Nay, more—there is danger in touch… But who can avoid the fell snare, The man and his wine’s so bewitchi…