Robert Burns

We labour soon, we labour late, To feed the titled knave, man; And a' the comfort we're to get, Is that ayont the grave, man.

Don't let the awkward squad fire over me.

There's death in the cup-so beware!

Their sighan', cantan', grace-proud faces, Their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.

Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all he's a problem must puzzle the devil.

Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van, Thou stalk o' carl-hemp in man! And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair; Wha does the utmost that he can, Will whyles do mair.

O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

O, saw ye bonnie Leslie As she gaed o’er the border? She’s gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her forever; For nature made her what she is,

'Tis sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,—Jessy!

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care, I gie them a skelp, as they're creeping alang, Wi' a cog o' gude swats and an auld Scottish sang.

Drumossie moor — Drumossie day — A waefu' day it was to me! For there I lost my father dear, My father dear, and brethren three.

The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that.

Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow— Let us do or die!

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to Victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lour! See approach proud Edward's power—

The wan moon sets behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, Oh.

I've seen sae mony changefu' years, On earth I am a stranger grown: I wander in the ways of men, Alike unknowing and unknown.

O Mary, at thy window be! It is the wished, the trysted hour.

If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it; A chield's aman you takin' notes, And faith he'll prent it.

O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad: Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad.

O whistle, an' I'll come to you, my lad: O whistle, an' I'll come to you, my lad: Tho' father and mither should baith gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.

What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie, What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man, But the ae best dance ere came to the Land Was, the deil's awa wi' the Exciseman.

But, oh! fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early.

The golden Hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my Dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.