At me, thy poor earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubtna, whiles, but thou may thieve:
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker1 in a thrave 2

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,

An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,"

To thole the winter's sleety dribble,

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

Is there, for honest poverty,
That hings his head, and a' that?
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that!

Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp:
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden-gray1 and a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that.

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that:

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie2 ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof3 for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that,
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.

For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that,

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that;

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye thegither;
The RIGID RIGHTEOUS is a fool,

The RIGID WISE anither:

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight,
May hae some pyles o' caff in ;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight

For random fits o' daffin.1

SOLOMON.-Eccles. vii. 16.

O ye wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've naught to do but mark and tell
Your Neebor's fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supplyed wi' store o' water,

The heapet happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.

Hear me, ye venerable Core,'

As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,
For glaikit Folly's portals:

I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defenses,

Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
Their failings and mischances.

O, Jenny, dinna toss your head,
An' set your beauties a' abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed

The blastie's makin!

Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!

O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
And foolish notion:

What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n Devotion !

HIGHLAND MARY.

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!1

There simmer first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry;

For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!
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.

Wi' monie a vow, and locked embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,

We tore oursels asunder;

But oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay

That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,

I aft hae kissed sae fondly!

1 Muddy.

And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mold'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

DUNCAN GRAY.

Duncan Gray came here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

On blythe yule night when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Maggie coost1 her head fu' high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,'
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh: 3
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan sighed baith out and in,

Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',

Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn;"

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Time and chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

Slighted love is sair to bide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,

For a haughty hizzie die?

She may gae to France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

How it comes let doctors tell,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

Meg grew sick. -as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;

And O, her een, they spak sic things!

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.