Let ithers fret; 'tis mine to sing

The joys that riches canna bring;

Let me the bliss o' rapture share,
Where smiles dispel the clouds o' care:
Gie me my cozie, happy hame,
That's a' the gear on earth I claim;
My wife and my bairnies three

Are mair than a' the warld to me.

There's love in a' her witching smiles, There's rapture in her een;

I need no aid o' mystic lore

: To tell me what they mean.

The warld and a' that in it blooms

Wad be a waste to me,

Did frosts untimely nip the flower,

My winsome Lucy Lee.

Young rosebud of Life's joyous Spring, Where pride and hope are centred; Thine eyes are love, thy heart a shrine Where sin has never entered.

Sweet little Nelly Gordon!

Fair bud that soon will blossom; May sorrow never plant her thorns Within thy tender bosom.

If on this orbit, beauteous thing,
Thou art designed to tarry,
Seek till thou find the jewel, worth,
And not till then e'er marry.

Bonnie Fanny Dean.

N rambling thro' this weary warld
I've flowers o' beauty seen;

But nane were half sae fair to me
As bonnie FANNY DEAN.

I've never seen sic twa blue een,
Nor sic a sweet wee mou;
And oh her heart is soft and pure

As drops o' morning dew.

The glossy vine wi' grace may twine

In nature's wilds amang;

More gracefu' still ower FANNY's brow Her gowden tresses hang.

I've kent her sin' she was a bairn,

A wee bit gentle thing;

But never thocht her budding charms

A spell wad ower me fling.

I'll never break the sacred vow,
The promise made yestreen;

Come weal or woe I'll wedded be
To bonnie FANNY DEAN.