Altho’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie, Yet happy, happy would I be Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg… When o’er the hill beat surly stor…

FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn… E’en let them die-for that they’re… But oh! prodigious to reflec’! A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck… O Eighty-eight, in thy sma’ space…

O WHY the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder? I’m twenty-three, and five feet ni… I’ll go and be a sodger! I gat some gear wi’ mickle care,

O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… Tho’ father an’ mother an’ a’ shou… O, whistle an’ I’ll come to ye, m… But warily tent when ye come to co…

By yon Castle wa’, at the close o… I heard a man sing tho’ his head i… And as he was singing, the tears d… There’ll never be peace till Jami… The Church is in ruins, the State…

Fairest Maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou wert wont to do. Full well thou knowest I love the…

’Twas in the seventeen hunder year O’ grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae’est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an’-twentieth…

Sweet are the banks– the banks o’… The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu’ o’ care. Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…

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…

KEMBLE, thou cur’st my unbelief For Moses and his rod; At Yarico’s sweet nor of grief The rock with tears had flow’d.

What will I do gin my Hoggie die, My joy, my pride, my Hoggie: My only beast, I had nae mae, And vow but I was vogie. The lee-lang night we watch’d the…

HOW cold is that bosom which foll… How pale is that cheek where the r… How silent that tongue which the e… How dull is that ear which to flat… If sorrow and anguish their exit a…

THE SMILING Spring comes in r… And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling… And bonie blue are the sunny skies… Fresh o’er the mountains breaks fo…

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.