1759-1796.
Tom O'Shanter.
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gather in' her brows like gatherin' storm,
Nursin' her wrath to keep it warm.
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white, then melts for ever. As Tammie gloured, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
To a Mouse.
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley;
An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.
Scots wha hae.
Let us do, or die!
Address to the Unco Guid.
Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler, sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang
To step aside is human.
On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland.
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it;
A chiel's amang you takin' notes,
An', faith, he'll prent it.
To a Louse.
O wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursel's as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion.
Epistle to a Young Friend.
The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honor grip,
Let that aye be your border.
The Twa Dogs.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
Shawed him the gentleman and scholar.
Epistle to James Smith.
O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
Cold, pausing Caution's lesson scorning,
We frisk away,
Like schoolboys at th' expected warning.
To joy and play.
Despondency.
O Life! them art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I!
Auld Lang Syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?
Green grow the Rashes.
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man.
And then she made the lasses, O!
Man was made to Mourn.
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.
Death and Dr. Hornbook.
Some wee short hour ayont the twal.
Is there for honest Poverty.
The rank is but the guinea's stamp.
The man's the gowd for a' that.
A prince can mak' a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a that:
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.
The Cotter's Saturday Night.
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.