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

ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,

NO more of your guests, be they t… And cookery the first in the natio… Who is proof to thy personal conve… Is proof to all other temptation.

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent; But now your brow is bled, John,

On a bank of flowers in a summer d… For summer lightly drest, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie, wand’ring thro the w…

Here’s a health to them that’s awa… Here’s a health to them that’s awa And wha winna wish guid luck to ou… May never guid luck be their fa’! It’s guid to be merry and wise,

O Thou, the first, the greatest f… Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever b… Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav’d their…

I dream’d I lay where flowers wer… Gaily in the sunny beam; List’ning to the wild birds singin… By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and da…

Let Loove Sparkle Ithers seek they kenna what, Features, carriage and a’ that; Gie me loove in her I court - Loove to loove maks a’ the sport.

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

LATE crippl’d of an arm, and now… About to beg a pass for leave to b… Dull, listless, teas’d, dejected,… (Nature is adverse to a cripple’s… Will generous Graham list to his…

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.

My Son, these maxims make a rule, An’ lump them aye thegither; The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither: The cleanest corn that ere was dig…

THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,