A GRACE BEFORE DINNER, EXTEMPORE

O THOU who kindly dost provide

For every creature's want!

We bless Thee, God of Nature wide,
For all Thy goodness lent:

And if it please Thee, heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent;

But, whether granted or denied,

Lord, bless us with content. Amen!

A GRACE AFTER DINNER, EXTEMPORE

O THOU, in whom we live and move-
Who made the sea and shore;

Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore;

And, if it please Thee, Power above!
Still grant us, with such store,

The friend we trust, the fair we love-
And we desire no more. Amen!

O MAY, THY MORN

O MAY, thy morn was ne'er so sweet
As the mirk night o' December!
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber:
And dear was she I dare na name,

But I will aye remember:
And dear was she I dare na name,
But I will aye remember.

And here's to them that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum!

And here's to them that wish us weel,
May a' that's guid watch o'er 'em!
And here's to them, we dare na tell,

The dearest o' the quorum!
And here's to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o' the quorum.

AE FOND KISS, AND THEN WE SEVER
Tune-" Rory Dall's Port."

AE fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met-or never parted,

We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!

Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

BEHOLD THE HOUR, THE BOAT, ARRIVE

BEHOLD the hour, the boat, arrive!
My dearest Nancy, O fareweel!
Severed frae thee, can I survive,

Frae thee whom I hae lov'd sae weel?

Endless and deep shall be my grief;
Nae ray of comfort shall I see,
But this most precious, dear belief,
That thou wilt still remember me!

Alang the solitary shore.

Where flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar,

I'll westward turn my wishful eye.

"Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say,

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Where now my Nancy's path shall be!

While thro' your sweets she holds her way,
O tell me, does she muse on me?"

THOU GLOOMY DECEMBER

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me rememberParting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!

Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!

Anguish unmingled, and agony pure!

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown;
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone.

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.

MY NATIVE LAND SAE FAR AWA

O SAD and heavy, should I part,
But for her sake, sae far awa;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land sae far awa.

Thou that of a' things Maker art,
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start
At this my way sae far awa.

How true is love to pure desert!
Like mine for her sae far awa;
And nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
While, oh, she is sae far awa!

Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but her's sae far awa;
But fairer never touch'd a heart
Than her's, the Fair, sae far awa.

I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR
Alteration of an Old Poem.

I DO confess thou art sae fair,

I wad been o'er the lugs in luve,

Had I na found the slightest prayer

That lips could speak thy heart could muve.

I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind

That kisses ilka thing it meets.

See yonder rosebud, rich in dew,

Amang its native briers sae coy;
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
When pu'd and worn a common toy.

Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile;
And sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like ony common weed and vile.

LINES ON FERGUSSON, THE POET ILL-FATED genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson! What heart that feels and will not yield a tear, To think Life's sun did set e'er well begun To shed its influence on thy bright career.

O why should truest Worth and Genius pine Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe, While titled knaves and idiot-Greatness shine In all the splendour Fortune can bestow?

THE WEARY PUND O' TOW

Chorus. The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;

I think my wife will end her life,
Before she spin her tow.

I BOUGHT my wife a stane o' lint,
As gude as e'er did grow,