Comin thro’ the rye, poor body
Duncan Gray cam’ here to woo
Husband, husband, cease your strife
Is there for honest Poverty
John Anderson my jo, John
O lassie, art thou sleeping yet
O my Luve ’s like a red, red rose
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
O Thou, who in the heavens does dwell
O wilt thou go wi’ me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
On a bank of flowers, in a summer day
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
There lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes
Thou lingering star, with less’ning ray
Wha is that at my bower-door?
What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie
When chill November’s surly blast
When lyart leaves bestrow the yird