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Farewell thou stream that winding flows
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near
Friend of the poet, tried and leal
Gane is the day and mirk's the night
Had I a cave on some wild distant shore

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie
The same, altered

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Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen

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Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion

Maxwell, if merit here you crave
Musing on the roaring ocean

My Chloris, mark how green the groves

My curse upon thy venom'd stang
My father pat me frae his door
My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie
My heart is sair, I dare na tell
My honoured Colonel deep I feel
My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form
Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er so fair

No more of your guests, be they titled or not
No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more
Now in her green mantle blithe nature arrays
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes
Now spring has clad the grove in green
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers

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O had the malt thy strength of mind

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O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten

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O Luve will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen

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O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the lone mountain stray

Sae flaxen were her ringlets
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled
Sensibility, how charming

She is a winsome wee thing

She's fair and fause that causes my smart
Should auld acquaintance be forgot

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon thy leafless bough
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
Slow spreads the gloom my soul desires
Stay my charmer, can you leave me ?
Stay, my Willie-yet believe me

Sweet fa's the evę on Craigie-burn

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The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill

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The Thames flows proudly to the sea

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon
There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen
There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes

There was a lass and she was fair

There was once a day, but old Time then was young
There were five Carlins in the south

They snool me sair, and haud me down
Thickest night o'erhang my dwelling

Thine am I, my faithful fair

Thine be the volumes, Jessie fair

This day, Time winds the exhausted chain

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'Twas na her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin

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True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow
Turn again thou fair Eliza

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What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie
When Death's dark stream I ferry o'er

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Where are the joys I hae met in the morning

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