The Toadeater
Of Lordly acquaintance you boast, And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen, Yet an insect’s an insect at most, Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen!
Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington
As cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in’t but few: As cauld a minister’s e’er spak; Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.
The Keekin’-Glass
How daur ye ca’ me howlet-face, Ye blear-e’ed, withered spectre? Ye only spied the keekin’-glass, An’ there ye saw your picture.