Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore
Had I the wyte, had I the wyte
Hail, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd!
Hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin', Willie!
Hark! the mavis' evening sang
Has auld Kilmarnock seen the Deil?
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crawlin ferlie!
Health to the Maxwells' vet'ran Chief!
Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots
He clenched his pamphlets in his fist
Hee balou! my sweet wee Donald
Heard ye o' the tree o' France
Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad
Her flowing locks, the raven's wing
Here around the ingle bleezing
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie
Here Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct
Here cursing swearing Burton lies
Here's Holy Willie's sair-worn clay

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91

118

It was a' for our rightfu' King

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did
me enthral

It was the charming month of May
It was upon a Lammas night

Jemie, come try me

Here is the glen, and here the bower

124

Here lie Willie Michie's banes

109

110

Here lies Johnny Pigeon

109

Here lies now a prey to insulting neglect
Here souter Hood in Death does sleep
Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd

41

113

Here, where the Scottish Muse immortal

Lass, when your mither is frae home

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang

glen

Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg.
Let not woman e'er complain

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101

Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize

Honest Will's to heaven is gane

110

Like Esop's lion, Burns says, sore 1 feel

Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours
Loud blaw the frosty breezes

Louis, what reck I by thee