Gars Auld Claes Look Amaist As Weel's

Nature's Law, That Man Was Made To Mourn. Man's Inhumanity To Man Makes Countless Thousands Mourn! O Death, The Poor Man's Dearest Friend, The Kindest And The Best!

In Durance Vile 1here Must I Wake And Weep, And All My Frowsy Couch In Sorrow Steep.

But To See Her Was To Love Her, Love But Her, And Love Forever.

See Social-life And Glee Sit Down, All Joyous And Unthinking, Till, Quite Transmugrified, They're Grown Debauchery And Drinking

Their Sighing, Canting, Grace-proud Faces, Their Three-mile Prayers, And Half-mile Graces.