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Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair

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Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life.

Farewell, thou fair day, thou

Fill me with the rosy wine

Corn rigs and barley rigs

Curse on ungrateful man that can be pleas'd.

Daughter of Chaos' doting years

Dear Myra, the captive ribband's mine
Dear I'll gie ye some advice
Dear Sir, at ony time or tide

Dear Smith, the slee'st, pawkie thief
Deluded swain, the pleasure.
Dire was the hate at old Harlaw
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat
Dost thou not rise, indignant shade
Duncan Gray cam here to woo
Dweller in yon dungeon dark

Earth'd up, here lies an imp o' hell
Edina, Scotia's darling seat
Expect na, sir, in this narration

Fairest maid on Devon banks

Fair Empress of the poet's soul

Fair fa' your honest, sonsy face

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Fair maid, you need not take the hint
Fair the face of orient day

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame

Farewell, dear friend, may gude luck hit

Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains,

Farewell, thou stream, that winding flows

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the north

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong

Fate gave the word, the arrow sped

Fintry, my stay in worldly strife

First when Maggie was my care

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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes

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Frae the friends and land I love

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Friday first's the day appointed

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Friend of the poet, tried and leal

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From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris requested

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From thee, Eliza, I must go

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From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells

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Gracie, thou art a man of worth

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Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live

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Green grow the rashes, O

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Gude pity me, because I'm little

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Guid mornin to your Majesty

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Guid speed and furder to you, Johnie.

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Here lies a mock Marquis, whose titles are shamm'd

Here lies John Bushby, honest man

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Here lies Johnie Pigeon

Here lie Willie Michie's banes .

Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect

Here Souter Hood in death does sleep

Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd

Here where the Scottish Muse immortal lives
Here's a bottle, and an honest friend

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Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro'.

Hey, the dusty miller, and his dusty coat
His face wi' smile eternal drest

Honest Will to heaven's away

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How can my poor heart be glad

How cold is that bosom which folly once fired

How cruel are the parents

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How daur ye ca' me "howlet face"

How lang and dreary is the night

How, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee named.

How long and dreary is the night

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How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon

How Wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite
Humid seal of soft affections

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Husband, husband, cease your strife

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I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars

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I am my mammy's ae bairn

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I bought my wife a stane o' lint

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I call no goddess to inspire my strains

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I coft a stane o' haslock woo

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If thou should ask my love, could I deny thee
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap

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you rattle along like your Mistress's tongue
Ilk care and fear when thou art near

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In Politics if thou would mix

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In se'enteen hunder and forty-nine

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In simmer when the hay was mawn

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In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men

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It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral.

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Last May, a braw wooer cam down the lang glen

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My heart is wae, and unco wae

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My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here

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My heart was ance as blythe and free

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My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel

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My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't

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My lord a-hunting he is gane

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My lord, I know your noble ear

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My lov'd, my honor'd, much respected friend

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My love, she's but a lassie yet

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My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form

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My Sandy gied to me a ring

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No more of your guests be they titled or not

No more of your titled acquaintances boast
No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more
No sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay
No song nor dance I bring from yon great city
No Spartan tube, no Attic shell
No Stewart art thou, Galloway

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