The sun he is sunk in the west; All creatures retired to rest, While here I sit, all sore beset, With sorrow, grief, and woe: And it’s O, fickle Fortune, O!

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary… And leave auld Scotia’s shore; Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary… Across th’ Atlantic roar. O sweet grows the lime and the ora…

HERE Brewer Gabriel’s fire’s ex… And empty all his barrels: He’s blest—if, as he brew’d, he dr… In upright, honest morals.

HAS auld Kilmarnock seen the dei… Or great Mackinlay 1 thrawn his h… Or Robertson 2 again grown weel, To preach an’ read? “Na’ waur than a’! cries ilka chie…

GO fetch to me a pint o’ wine, An’ fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o’ Lei…

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,

LIGHT lay the earth on Billy’s… His chicken heart so tender; But build a castle on his head, His scull will prop it under.

YOU’RE welcome to Despots, Dumo… You’re welcome to Despots, Dumour… How does Dampiere do? Ay, and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with y…

TO Riddell, much lamented man, This ivied cot was dear; Wandr’er, dost value matchless wor… This ivied cot revere.

Yestreen I had a pint o’ wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o’ min… The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness

O Thou dread Pow’r, who reign’st… I know Thou wilt me hear; When for this scene of peace and l… I make this pray’r sincere. The hoary Sire– the mortal stroke…

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’…

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’…

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

GUDEWIFE, I MIND it weel in… When I was bardless, young, and b… An’ first could thresh the barn, Or haud a yokin’ at the pleugh; An, tho’ forfoughten sair eneugh,