YE flowery banks o’ bonnie 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 bonni…

O Thou Great Being! what Thou ar… Surpasses me to know; Yet sure I am, that known to Thee Are all Thy works below. Thy creature here before Thee sta…

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,

Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble blui… Because ye’re surnam’d like His G…

MY father was a farmer upon the C… And carefully he bred me in decenc… He bade me act a manly part, thoug… For without an honest manly heart,… Then out into the world my course…

I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ fr… A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind momento: But how the subject—theme may gang…

WHILE larks, with little wing, Fann’d the pure air, Tasting the breathing Spring, Forth I did fare: Gay the sun’s golden eye

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.

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…

THERE was once a day, but old T… That brave Caledonia, the chief o… From some of your northern deities… (Who knows not that brave Caledon… From Tweed to the Orcades was her…

Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…

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

SWEET flow’ret, pledge o’ meikle… And ward o’ mony a prayer, What heart o’ stane wad thou na mo… Sae helpless, sweet, and fair? November hirples o’er the lea,

Blythe hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o’er me: Now nae langer sport and play,

OH, open the door, some pity to s… Oh, open the door to me, oh, Tho’ thou hast been false, I’ll e… Oh, open the door to me, oh. Cauld is the blast upon my pale ch…