• Braid Claith

    Ye wha are fain to hae your name
    Wrote in the bonny book of fame,
    Let merit nae pretension claim
    To laurel'd wreath,... more »

  • The Daft-Days

    Now mirk December's dowie face
    Glours our the rigs wi' sour grimace,
    While, thro' his minimum of space,
    The bleer-ey'd sun... more »