As open pussie's mortal foes,

When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,

When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' mony an eldritch skreich and hollow.

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou 'll get thy fairin! In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! Now, do thy speedy-utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane o' the brig; There, at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross! But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake! For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle; But little wist she Maggie's mettle! Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail: The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk man, and mother's son, take heed:
Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd,
Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind,
Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear;
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare.

BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY AT

BANNOCKBURN

(1793)

Scots, wha hae wi' WALLACE bled,
Scots, wham BRUCE has often led;
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 on wi' 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!

THE BANKS OF DOON

(Second version, 1791)

Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough!
Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause Luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
To see the woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Upon its thorny tree;

But my fause Luver staw the rose,
And left the thorn wi' me.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Upon a morn in June;

And sae I flourished on the morn,
And sae was pu'd or noon.

A RED, RED ROSE

(1793)

O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel awhile!

And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' 't were ten thousand mile!

IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY

(1795)

(Tune-"For a' that ")

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:

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 coof 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 maunna 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 coming yet for a' that,

That Man to Man, the warld o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that.