Chorus:—Bonie wee thing, cannie w… Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. Wishfully I look and languish

Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour:

NO Spartan tube, no Attic shell, No lyre Æolian I awake; ’Tis liberty’s bold note I swell, Thy harp, Columbia, let me take! See gathering thousands, while I…

HERE Souter Hood in death does… To hell if he’s gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep; He’ll haud it weel thegither.

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

Upon that night, when fairies ligh… On Cassilis Downans dance, Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz… On sprightly coursers prance; Or for Colean the route is ta’en,

BY all I lov’d, neglected and for… No friendly face e’er lights my sq… Shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied,… The mock’d quotation of the scorne… Ev’n the poor súpport of my wretch…

Her flowing locks, the raven’s win… Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to clin… And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi’ dew,

I GAT your letter, winsome Willi… Wi’ gratefu’ heart I thank you br… Tho’ I maun say’t, I wad be silly… And unco vain, Should I believe, my coaxin billi…

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…

Where braving angry Winter’s stor… The lofty Ochels rise, Far in their shade my Peggy’s cha… First blest my wondering eyes. As one who by some savage stream

Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,

O HAD each Scot of ancient times Been, Jeanie Scott, as thou art; The bravest heart on English grou… Had yielded like a coward.

Ye sons of old Killie, assembled… To follow the noble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce… To sit in that honoured station. I’ve little to say, but only to pr…

Last May a braw wooer cam down th… And sair wi’ his love he did deave… I said there was naething I hated… The deuce gae wi ‘m to believe me,… The deuce gae wi ’m to believe me.