At the disaster;
An' the morn's mornin', wud's the wind,
Yokes on his master.


XV - TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN


(Whan the dear doctor, dear to a',
Was still amang us here belaw,
I set my pipes his praise to blaw
Wi' a' my speerit;
But noo, Dear Doctor! he's awa',
An' ne'er can hear it.)

By Lyne and Tyne, by Thames and Tees,
By a' the various river-Dee's,
In Mars and Manors 'yont the seas
Or here at hame,
Whaure'er there's kindly folk to please,
They ken your name.

They ken your name, they ken your tyke,
They ken the honey from your byke;
But mebbe after a' your fyke,
(The truth to tell)
It's just your honest Rab they like,
An' no yoursel'.

As at the gowff, some canny play'r