O DEATH, had’st thou but spar’d… Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchanged the wife, And a’ been weel content. Ev’n as he is, cauld in his graff,

Wha will buy my Troggin, fine Election Ware; Broken trade o’ Broughton A’ in high repair? Buy braw Troggin,

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…

O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,    Wi’ purple blossoms to the spri… And I a bird to shelter there,    When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn

O May thy morn was ne’er sae swee… As the mirk night o’ December; For sparkling was the rosy wine, And private was the chamber: And dear was she, I dare na name,

FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn… E’en let them die-for that they’re… But oh! prodigious to reflec’! A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck… O Eighty-eight, in thy sma’ space…

IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine, The deil gat stuff to mak a swine, An’ coost it in a corner; But wilily he chang’d his plan, An’ shap’d it something like a man…

IN Politics if thou would’st mix, And mean thy fortunes be; Bear this in mind, be deaf and bli… Let great folk hear and see.

Lassie wi’ the lintwhite locks, Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks, An wilt thou be my Dearie O. Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea…

A Guide New—year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe—backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…

My love, she’s but a lassie yet, My love, she’s but a lassie yet! We’ll let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae saucy yet! I rue the day I sought her, O!

On a bank of flowers in a summer d… For summer lightly drest, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie, wand’ring thro the w…

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.

Behind yon hills, where Lugar flo… 'Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, And I’ll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and sh…

HAD I a cave on some wild distan… Where the winds howl to the wave’s… There would I weep my woes, There seek my lost repose, Till grief my eyes should close,