Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.

A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.

My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o' sunny noon; Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon; Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gi'es to me.

Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.