O Lord, when hunger pinches sore, Do thou stand us in stead, And send us, from thy bounteous store, A tup orwether head! Amen. O Lord, since we have feasted thus, Which we so little merit, Let Meg now take away the flesh, And Jock bring in the spirit! Amen.

Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering 'Gainst poor Excisemen? Give the cause a hearing: What are your Landlord's rent-rolls? Taxing ledgers! What Premiers? What ev'n Monarchs? Mighty Gaugers! Nay, what are Priests? (those seeming godly wise-men,) What are they, pray, butSpiritual Excisemen!

I Do confess thou art sae fair, I was been o'er the lugs in luve, Had I nafound the slightest prayer That lips could speak thy heart could muve. I do confess thee sweet, butfind Thou art so thriftless o'thy sweets, Thy favours are the silly wind That kisses ilka thing it meets. See yonder

When o'er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtintime is near, my jo, And owsenfraethe furrow'd field Return sae dowfand weary O; Down bythe burn, where birkenbuds Wi'dew are hangin clear, my jo, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. At midnight hour, in mirkest glen, I'd rove, and ne'er be

There lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; And he had a wife was the plague of his days, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. Aeday as the carl gaed up the langglen, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme; He met

O lady Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa', She sawthree bonie boys playing at the ba', The youngest he was the flower amangthem a', My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet. O father, O father, an ye think it fit, We'll send him a year to the college yet, We'll sew a green

Ill-fated genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson! What heart that feels and will not yield a tear, To think Life's sun did sete'erwell begun To shed its influence on thy bright career. O why should truest Worthand Genius pine Beneath the iron grasp of Want and Woe, While titled knaves and idiot-Greatness shine In all the splendour Fortune