The Author’s Only Pet Yowe An Unco Mournfu’ Tale As Mailie, an’ her lambs thegithe… Was ae day nibbling on the tether, Upon her cloot she coost a hitch,

OF a’ the airts the wind can blaw… I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers…

Behold the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, the darling of my hear… Sever’d from thee, can I survive, But Fate has will’d and we must p… I’ll often greet the surging swell…

All devil as I am—a damned wretch… A hardened, stubborn, unrepenting… Still my heart melts at human wret… And with sincere but unavailing si… I view the helpless children of di…

LET other heroes boast their scar… The marks of sturt and strife: And other poets sing of wars, The plagues of human life: Shame fa’ the fun, wi’ sword and g…

CA’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows, My bonnie dearie. Hark! the mavis’ evening sang

O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? O, wilt thou go wi’ me, Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse,

Wishfully I look and languish In that bonie face o’ thine, And my heart it sounds wi’ anguish… Lest my wee thing be na mine. [Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie…

YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain… For few sic feasts you’ve gotten; And fix your claws in Nicol’s hea… For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.

HEE balou, my sweet wee Donald, Picture o’ the great Clanronald; Brawlie kens our wanton Chief Wha gat my young Highland thief. Leeze me on thy bonie craigie,

[First Setting] Comin thro’ the rye, poor body, Comin thro’ the rye, She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie Comin thro’ the rye.

OF all the numerous ills that hur… That press the soul, or wring the… Beyond comparison the worst are th… By our own folly, or our guilt bro… In ev’ry other circumstance, the m…

OH, open the door, some pity to s… Oh, open the door to me, oh, Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll e… Oh, open the door to me, oh. Cauld is the blast upon my pale ch…

By Allan stream I chanc’d to rove… While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi… The winds are whispering thro’ the… The yellow corn was waving ready: I listen’d to a lover’s sang,

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’…