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Amang ance auld Bard beneath better bonie Brig comes dear Death Deil dogs door doubt draw drink e'er Ev'n ev'ry face fair faith faſt fate fear firſt fome frae gang gies grace guid hand head hear heart hill honeſt hour humble ither juſt keep kind lads land laſt leſs light mair mark maun meet mind monie morn muſt Nae mair ne'er never night o'er owre poor pow'r pride race rhyme round Samſon's dead ſaw ſay Scotch Scotland ſee ſet ſhall ſhe ſome ſtill tell thee There's thou thought thro Till true unco weary weel Whare Whyles winds worth ye'll ye're young
Pagina 47 - Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Pagina 204 - That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An
Pagina 37 - UPON a simmer Sunday morn, When Nature's face is fair, I walked forth to view the corn, An' snuff the caller air. The rising sun, owre Galston muirs, Wi' glorious light was glintin ; The hares were hirplin down the furs, The lav'rocks they were chantin Fu
Pagina 159 - Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse That still eternal gallop: Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco leeway.
Pagina 217 - It's no in making muckle, mair : It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang ; The heart ay's the part ay, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Wha drudge and drive thro...
Pagina 191 - Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays, As thro' the glen it wimpl't; Whyles round a rocky scar it strays; Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't; Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickerin, dancin dazzle ; Whyles cookit underneath the braes, Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night.
Pagina 204 - An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy. Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e On prospects drear ! An...
Pagina 106 - An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're think-in', A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', Some luckless hour will send him linkin', To your black pit ; But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin', An cheat you yet. But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben ! O wad ye tak a thought an' men' ! Ye aiblins might — I dinna ken — Still hae a stake : I'm wae to think upo...