"'Twas in the seventeen hunderyear O' grace, and ninety-five, That year I was the wae'est man Of ony man alive. In March the three-an'-twentieth morn, The sun raiseclear an'bright; But oh! I was a waefu' man, Ereto-fa'o' the night. Yerl Galloway langdid rule this land, Wi' equal right and fame, And thereto was his kinsmen [...]
The Robin to the Wren's nest Cam keekin' in, camkeekin' in; O weel's me on your auld pow, Wad ye be in, wadye be in? Thou's ne'er getleave to lie without, And I within, and I within, Saelang's I haeanauldclout To rowe ye in, to rowe ye in.
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan, Wi' the burnstealing under the lang, yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yonhumble broom bowers Where the blue-bell and gowanlurk, lowly, unseen; For there, lightlytripping, among the wild flowers, A-list'ning [...]
There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass, And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear; TillWar's loud alarms tore her laddiefraeher arms, Wi'mony a sigh and tear. Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear; And nochtcould him quail, orhis bosom assail, Butthe bonielass he [...]
'Twas naher bonieblue e'ewas my ruin, Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoin'; 'Twas the dear smile when naebodydid mindus, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness: 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stownglance o' kindness. Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, Sairdo I fear that despair maunabide me, Buttho' [...]
Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg orsteal; Alake, alake, the meikledeil Wi' a'his witches Are at it skelpin jig and reel, In my poor pouches? I modestly fu'fainwadhint it, That One-pound-one, I sairlywant it; If wi' the hizziedown ye sent it, It would be kind; And while my heart [...]
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet, Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket; The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet, The rose upon the breir will be him trewsan'doublet, WeeWillie Gray, and his leather wallet, Twice a lily-flower will be him sarkand cravat; Feathers of a flee [...]
Why, why tell thy lover Bliss he never must enjoy"? Why, why undeceive him, And give all his hopes the lie? O why, while fancy, raptur'd slumbers, Chloris, Chloris all the theme, Why, why would'st thou, cruel- Wake thy lover from his dream?