Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Nature's law, That man was made to mourn. Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! O Death, the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best!

The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know And keenly felt the friendly glow And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name!

Oatcakes are a delicate relish when eaten warm with ale.

My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.

For thus the royal mandate ran, When first the human race began, "The social, friendly honest man, Whate'er he be, Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, And none but he!"

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.