Chapter 77
_To a Mouse_.
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley; An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain For promised joy.
_Scots wha hae_.
Let us do, or die!
_Address to the Unco Guid_.
Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler, sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang To step aside is human.
_On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland_.
If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it; A chiel's amang you takin' notes, An', faith, he'll prent it.
_To a Louse_.
O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see oursel's as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion.
_Epistle to a Young Friend_.
The fear o' h.e.l.l 's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honor grip, Let that aye be your border.
_The Twa Dogs_.
His locked, lettered, braw bra.s.s collar Shawed him the gentleman and scholar.
_Epistle to James Smith_.
O Life! how pleasant in 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.
_Despondency_.
O Life! them art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!
_Auld Lang Syne_.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne?
_Green grow the Rashes_.
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man.
And then she made the la.s.ses, O!
_Man was made to Mourn_.
Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn.
_Death and Dr. Hornbook_.
Some wee short hour ayont the twal.
_Is there for honest Poverty_.
The _rank_ is but the guinea's _stamp_.
The man's the gowd for a' that.