I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,

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And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove; And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.

DUNCAN GRAY

Duncan Gray cam here to woo

(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),

On blythe Yule Night when we were fou

(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).

1798.

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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!

There Summer first unfald 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 O 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!

And closed for ay the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly!

And mouldering now in silent dust

That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!

1792.

SCOTS WHA HAE

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has aften led,

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1799.

1793.

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-
Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?

Wha can fill a coward's grave?

Wha sae base as be a slave?

Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa',
Let him follow me!

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do or die!

1794.

IS THERE FOR HONEST POVERTY

Is there for honest poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that?

The coward slave, we pass him by,

We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that an' a' that,

Our toils obscure, an' a' that:

The rank is but the guinea's stamp;

The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,

Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,

A man's a man for a' that,

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1794.

For a' that an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that:
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif for a' that,
For a' that an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind,

He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that,

But an honest man's aboon his might;
Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!

For a' that an' a' that,

Their dignities, an' a' that:

The pith o' sense an' 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,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that:

For a' that an' a' that,

It's comin yet for a' that,

That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE

Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,

Wi' a cog o' guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.

I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought:

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But man is a soger, and life is a faught;

My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,

And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch.