O THOU whom Poetry abhors, Whom Prose has turnèd out of doo… Heard’st thou yon groan?'€”proceed… 'Twas laurel’d Martial calling mu…

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…

Tune —“The Braes o’ Balquhidder.… Chor. —And I’ll kiss thee yet, ye… And I’ll kiss thee o’er again: And I’ll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonie Peggy Alison.

HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose… If ever he rise, it will be to be…

‘Wha is that at my bower—door?’ ‘O wha is it but Findlay!’ 'Then gae your gate, ye’se nae be… ‘Indeed maun I,’ quo’ Findlay; 'What mak’ ye, sae like a thief?'

Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…

NO more, ye warblers of the wood!… Nor pour your descant grating on m… Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in th… More welcome were to me grim Wint… How can ye charm, ye flowers, with…

SWEET naïveté of feature, Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Not to thee, but thanks to Nature… Thou art acting but thyself. Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected…

AS father Adam first was fool’d, (A case that’s still too common,) Here lies man a woman ruled, The devil ruled the woman.

PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay… As ever trod on airn; But now she’s floating down the N… And past the mouth o’ Cairn. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare…

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie’s b… O Death, it’s my opinion, Thou ne’er took such a bleth’rin b… Into thy dark dominion!

STILL anxious to secure your par… And not less anxious, sure, this n… A Prologue, Epilogue, or some suc… 'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if… So sought a poet, roosted near the…

Chorus’€”Long, long the night, Heavy comes the morrow While my soul’s delight Is on her bed of sorrow. CAN I cease to care?

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.

THOU, Liberty, thou art my theme… Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddes… That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and s…