I AM a keeper of the law In some sma’ points, altho’ not a’… Some people tell me gin I fa’, Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho’ sma…

Scots, what 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;

CURSE on ungrateful man, that ca… And yet can starve the author of t… O thou, my elder brother in misfor… By far my elder brother in the Mu… With tears I pity thy unhappy fat…

O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour… Those smiles and glances let me se… That makes the miser’s treasure po… How blythely wad I bide the stour…

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…

O DEATH! thou tyrant fell and b… The meikle devil wi’ a woodie Haurl thee hame to his black smidd… O’er hurcheon hides, And like stock-fish come o’er his…

HONEST 1 Will to Heaven’s away And mony shall lament him; His fau’ts they a’ in Latin lay, In English nane e’er kent them.

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…

BLEST be M’Murdo to his latest… No envious cloud o’ercast his even… No wrinkle, furrow’d by the hand o… Nor ever sorrow add one silver hai… O may no son the father’s honour s…

O, were my love yon lilac fair Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing. How I wad mourn when it was torn

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather… Peel a willow wand to be him boots… The rose upon the breir will be hi… The rose upon the breir will be hi… Wee Willie Gray, and his leather…

O sad and heavy should I part, But for her sake, sae far awa; Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa. Thou that of a’ things Maker art,

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…

As I was a—wand’ring ae morning i… I heard a young ploughman sae swee… And as he was singin’, thir words… There’s nae life like the ploughma… The lav’rock in the morning she’ll…

It was a’ for our rightful king That we left fair Scotland’s stra… It was a’ for our rightful king We e’er saw Irish land, My dear,