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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.

When chill November's surly blast make fields and forest bare.

Facts are cheels that winna ding, An' downs be disputed.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale. from the poem The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare, The desert were a paradise If thou wert there, if thou were there.

John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonny brow was brent.

Be Briton still to Britain true, Among oursel's united; For never but by British hands Maun British wrangs be righted.

But pleasures are like poppies spread; You seize the flower, its bloom is shed. Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white--then melts forever.

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith Wi' rattling an' thumpin'! Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampin', and he's jumpin'!

In durance vile here must I wake and weep, And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended!

G-- knows I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be, But twenty times I rather would be An atheist clean, Than under gospel colours hid be, Just for a screen.

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! My peace with these, my love with those. The bursting tears my heart declare; Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green; The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar Twined amorous round the raptures scene.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet bonnie mou'!

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew, How pure amang the leaves sae green!

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent; Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content.