A Song of Similes Tune —‘If he be a Butcher neat an… On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells… Could I describe her shape and me… Our lasses a’ she far excels,

SING on, sweet thrush, upon the… Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to… See aged Winter, 'mid his surly r… At thy blythe carol, clears his fu… So in lone Poverty’s dominion dre…

Scots, what hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;

A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o’ dawn are f…

When by a generous Public’s kind… That dearest meed is granted—hones… When here your favour is the actor… Nor even the man in private life f… What breast so dead to heav’nly V…

THE BLUDE-RED rose at Yule m… The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, The frost may freeze the deepest s… But an auld man shall never daunto… Refrain.—To daunton me, to daunto…

NO churchman am I for to rail and… No statesman nor soldier to plot o… No sly man of business contriving… For a big-belly’d bottle’s the who… The peer I don’t envy, I give him…

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…

WHAT dost thou in that mansion f… Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind. ———No Stewart art thou, Galloway,

O THOU who kindly dost provide For every creature’s want! We bless Thee, God of Nature wid… For all Thy goodness lent: And if it please Thee, Heavenly…

Let Loove Sparkle Ithers seek they kenna what, Features, carriage and a’ that; Gie me loove in her I court - Loove to loove maks a’ the sport.

ONE night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld tree root; Auld Ayr ran by before me,

O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly? O saw ye my Dear, my Philly, She’s down i’ the grove, she’s wi’… She winna come hame to her Willy. What says she my dear, my Philly?

FAIR maid, you need not take the… Nor idle texts pursue: 'Twas guilty sinners that he meant… Not Angels such as you.

O THOU whom Poetry abhors, Whom Prose has turnèd out of door… Heard’st thou yon groan?—proceed n… ’Twas laurel’d Martial calling mu…