Fairest Maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou wert wont to do. Full well thou knowest I love the…

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over.

O aye my wife she dang me, An’ aft my wife she bang’d me, If ye gie a woman a’ her will, Gude faith she’ll soon o’ergang ye… On peace and rest my mind was bent…

With secret throes I marked that… That cottage, witness of my birth; And near I saw, bold issuing fort… In youthful pride, A Lindsay race of noble worth,

FAREWELL, dear friend! may gui… And 'mang her favourites admit you… If e’er Detraction shore to smit… May nane believe him, And ony deil that thinks to get yo…

When o’er the hill the eastern sta… Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow’d field Return sae dowf and weary O; Down by the burn where scented bir…

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. Wishfully I look and languish

THERE’S Death in the cup, so be… Nay, more—there is danger in touch… But who can avoid the fell snare, The man and his wine’s so bewitchi…

When Januar’ wind was blawing cau… As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na whare to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met,

Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,

AS I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dew… Where the howlet mourns in her ivy… And tells the midnight moon her ca… The winds were laid, the air was s…

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flower and spreading tre… There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver. Oh I had wooers aught or nine,

The man, in life wherever plac’d, Hath happiness in store, Who walks not in the wicked’s way, Nor learns their guilty lore! Nor from the seat of scornful prid…

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!

GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, tha… To see the miscreants feel the pai… Deal Freedom’s sacred treasures f… Till Slave and Despot be but thin…