It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light… I held away to Annie: The time flew by wi’ tentless heed

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…

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…

LET not Woman e’er complain Of inconstancy in love; Let not Woman e’er complain Fickle Man is apt to rove: Look abroad thro’ Nature’s range,

HERE lie Willie Michie’s banes; O Satan, when ye tak him, Gie him the schulin o’ your weans, For clever deils he’ll mak them!

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent; But now your brow is bled, John,

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…

I AM a keeper of the law In some sma’ points, altho’ not a’… Some people tell me gin I fa’, Ae way or ither, The breaking of ae point, tho’ sma…

Dear Sir, I’ll gie ye some advice… You’ll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair, But try and paint the devil. To paint an Angel’s kittle wark,

STRAIT is the spot and green th… From whence my sorrows flow; And soundly sleeps the ever dear Inhabitant below. Pardon my transport, gentle shade,

Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish nam… Sae famed in martial story! Now Sark rins over Solway sands,

Ask why God made the gem so small… And why so huge the granite?— Because God meant mankind should… That higher value on it.

John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,

OF a’ the airts the wind can blaw… I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers…

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