Let her crown my love her law,
     And in her breast enthrone me,
     Kings and nations—­swith awa’! 
     Reif randies, I disown ye!

     It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonie Face

     It is na, Jean, thy bonie face,
     Nor shape that I admire;
     Altho’ thy beauty and thy grace
     Might weel awauk desire.

     Something, in ilka part o’ thee,
     To praise, to love, I find,
     But dear as is thy form to me,
     Still dearer is thy mind.

     Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
     Nor stronger in my breast,
     Than, if I canna make thee sae,
     At least to see thee blest.

     Content am I, if heaven shall give
     But happiness, to thee;
     And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live,
     For thee I’d bear to die.

Auld Lang Syne

     Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
     And never brought to mind? 
     Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
     And auld lang syne!

     Chorus.—­For auld lang syne, my dear,
     For auld lang syne. 
     We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
     For auld lang syne.

     And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp! 
     And surely I’ll be mine! 
     And we’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet,
     For auld lang syne. 
     For auld, &c.

     We twa hae run about the braes,
     And pou’d the gowans fine;
     But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
     Sin’ auld lang syne. 
     For auld, &c.

     We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
     Frae morning sun till dine;
     But seas between us braid hae roar’d
     Sin’ auld lang syne. 
     For auld, &c.

     And there’s a hand, my trusty fere! 
     And gie’s a hand o’ thine! 
     And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
     For auld lang syne. 
     For auld, &c.

My Bonie Mary

     Go, fetch to me a pint o’ wine,
     And fill it in a silver tassie;
     That I may drink before I go,
     A service to my bonie lassie. 
     The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith;
     Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry;
     The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
     And I maun leave my bonie Mary.

     The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
     The glittering spears are ranked ready: 
     The shouts o’ war are heard afar,
     The battle closes deep and bloody;
     It’s not the roar o’ sea or shore,
     Wad mak me langer wish to tarry! 
     Nor shouts o’ war that’s heard afar—­
     It’s leaving thee, my bonie Mary!

The Parting Kiss

     Humid seal of soft affections,
     Tenderest pledge of future bliss,
     Dearest tie of young connections,
     Love’s first snowdrop, virgin kiss!

     Speaking silence, dumb confession,
     Passion’s birth, and infant’s play,
     Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
     Glowing dawn of future day!