It 's Guid To Be Merry And

It's Hardly In A Body's Pow'r,to Keep, At Times, Frae Being Sour.

My Dear, My Native Soil! For Whom My Warmest Wish To Heav'n Is Sent, Long May Thy Hardy Sons Of Rustic Toil Be Blest With Health, And Peace, And Sweet Content!

't Is Sweeter For Thee Despairing Than Aught In The World Beside,-jessy!

All My Fears And Cares Are Of This World; If There Is Another, An Honest Man Has Nothing To Fear From It.

O, Life! How Pleasant Is Thy Morning, Young Fancy's Rays The Hills Adorning! Cold Pausing Caution's Lesson Scorning, We Frisk Away, Like Schoolboys, At The Expected Warning, To Joy And Play.