Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…

Dear Sir, I’ll gie ye some advice… You’ll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair, But try and paint the devil. To paint an Angel’s kittle wark,

My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,

WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye

Tune —“Invercauld’s Reel, or Str… Choir. —O Tibbie, I hae seen the… Ye wadna been sae shy; For laik o’ gear ye lightly me, But, trowth, I care na by.

Is there a whim—inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre hot fo… Owre blate to seek, owre proud to… Let him draw near; And owre this grassy heap sing doo…

WHILE briers an’ woodbines buddi… An’ paitricks scraichin loud at e’… An’ morning poussie whiddin seen, Inspire my muse, This freedom, in an unknown frien’…

Sleep’st thou, or wak’st thou, fai… Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy. Now, to the streaming fountain,

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,

O how shall I, unskilfu’, try The Poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours… That whisper, inspiration, Even they maun dare an effort mair

There was a bonie lass, And a bonie, bonie lass, And she lo’ed her bonie laddie dea… Till War’s loud alarms Tore her laddie frae her arms,

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;

As down the burn they took their w… And thro’ the flowery dale; His cheek to hers he aft did lay, And love was aye the tale. With “Mary, when shall we return,