HOW cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And to the wealthy booby Poor Woman sacrifice! Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter

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.

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…

NO churchman am I for to rail and… No statesman nor soldier to plot o… No sly man of business contriving… For a big-belly’d bottle’s the who… The peer I don’t envy, I give him…

Thou’s welcome, wean; mishanter fa… If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy ma… Shall ever daunton me or awe me, My sweet wee lady, Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’…

WHEN Guilford good our pilot sto… An’ did our hellim thraw, man, Ae night, at tea, began a plea, Within America, man: Then up they gat the maskin-pat,

Wha will buy my Troggin, fine Election Ware; Broken trade o’ Broughton A’ in high repair? Buy braw Troggin,

A’ The lads o’ Thornie-bank When they gae to the shore o’ Buc… They’ll step in and tak a pint Wi’ Lady Onlie, honest lucky. Lady Onlie, honest lucky,

HERE lie Willie Michie’s banes; O Satan, when ye tak him, Gie him the schulin o’ your weans, For clever deils he’ll mak them!

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

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,

FAREWELL, dear friend! may gui… And 'mang her favourites admit you… If e’er Detraction shore to smit… May nane believe him, And ony deil that thinks to get yo…

Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy looks wave in the breeze… All freshly steep’d in morning dew… And maun I still on Menie doat,

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

The simple Bard, unbroke by rules… He pours the wild effusions of the… And if inspir’d 'tis Nature’s pow… Her’s all the melting thrill, and…