Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the west, For there the bonie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best. There wild woods grow and rivers r…

Coming thro’ the rye, poor body, Coming thro’ the rye, She draiglet a’ her petticoatie Coming thro’ the rye. O, Jenny’s a’ wat, poor body;

Tune - “Laggan Burn.” Here’s to thy health, my bonie las… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee.

Thou lingering star, with less’nin… That lov’st to greet the early mor… Again thou usherast in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary, dear departed shade

WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo, weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey l… On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus

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.

Jamie, come try me, Jamie, come try me, If thou would win my love, Jamie, come try me. If thou should ask my love,

OF Lordly acquaintance you boast, And the Dukes that you dined wi’… Yet an insect’s an insect at most, Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Qu…

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…

On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells… Could I describe her shape and mi… Our lassies a’ she far excels, An’ she has twa sparkling, rogueis… She’s sweeter than the morning daw…

HERE lies Boghead amang the dead In hopes to get salvation; But if such as he in Heav’n may b… Then welcome, hail! damnation.

A Guide New-year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…

THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule m… The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest s… But an auld man shall never daunto… Refrain.—To daunton me, to daunto…

When biting Boreas, fell and dour… Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless b… When Phoebus gies a short—liv’d g… Far south the lift, Dim—dark’ning thro’ the flaky show…

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…