"O, wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion. What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us An' ev'n Devotion"

"Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem."

"Stern Ruin's plowshare drives elate, Full on thy bloom."

"O thou! whatever title suit thee, Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie."

"Freedom and Whisky gang thegither."

"Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon."

"I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But, Och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!"

"An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended!"

"What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted."

"O Life! how pleasant is 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."

"O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!"

"Here, some are thinkin' on their sins, An' some upo' their claes."

"Leeze me on drink! it gi'es us mair Than either school or college."

"There's some are fou o' love divine; There's some are fou o' brandy."

"Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, My barmie noddle's working prime."

"Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun."

"An' fareweel dear, deluding woman, The joy of joys!"

"Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang the lasses, O."

"There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An 'twerna for the lasses, O."

"Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses, O."

"Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent among the lasses, O."

"Some books are lies frae end to end."