When Chill November's Surly Blast Made Fields

Even Every Ray Of Hope Destroyed And Not A Wish To Gild The Gloom.

But Mousie, Thou Art No Thy Lane In Proving Foresight May Be Vain The Best-laid Schemes O' Mice An' Men Gang Aft Agley An' Lea'e Us Nought But Grief An' Pain For Promis'd Joy!

John Barleycorn Was A Hero Bold, Of Noble Enterprise, For If You Do But Taste His Blood, 'twill Make Your Courage Rise, Twill Make A Man Forget His Wo; 'twill Heighten All His Joy.

Why Has A Religious Turn Of Mind Always A Tendency To Narrow And Harden The Heart?

O, Wad Some Power The Giftie Gie Us To See Oursels As Others See Us! It Wad Frae Monie A Blunder Free Us, An' Foolish Notion.