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From naked groves nae birdie sings;
To shepherd's pipe nae hillock rings;
The breeze nae od'rous flavour brings

From Borean cave;
And dwyning Nature droops her wings,

Wi’ visage grave.



Mankind but scanty pleasure glean
Frae snawy hill or barren plain,
Whan Winter, 'midst his nipping train,

Wi' frozen spear,
Sends drift owr a' his bleak domain,

And guides the weir.

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And thou, great god of aqua vite!
Wha sways the empire of this city,-
When fou we're sometimes capernoity,–

Be thou prepared
To hedge us frae that black banditti,
The City Guard.



Ye wha are fain to hae your name
Wrote in the bonny book of Fame,
Let merit nae pretension claim

To laureled wreath,
But hap ye weel, baith back and wame,

In gude Braid Claith.


He that some ells o' this may fa',
An' slae-black hat on pow like snaw,

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Waesuck for him wha has nae fek o't!
For he 's a gowk they 're sure to geck at,
A chield that ne'er will be respekit

While he draws breath,
Till his four quarters are bedeckit

Wi' gude Braid Claith.

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Gies mony a doctor his degrees

For little skaith :
In short, you may be what you please

Wi' gude Braid Claith.


For thof ye had as wise a snout on
As Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton,
Your judgment fouk wud hae a doubt on,

I'll tak' my aith,
Till they cou'd see ye wi' a suit on
O'gude Braid Claith.




Frae fields whare Spring her sweets has blawn
Wi' caller verdure o'er the lawn,
The gowdspink comes in new attire,
The brawest 'mang the whistling choir,
That, ere the sun can clear his een,
Wi' glib notes sane the simmer's green.

Sure Nature herried mony a tree,
For spraings and bonny spats to thee;
Nae mair the rainbow can impart
Sic glowing ferlies o' her art,
Whase pencil wrought its freaks at will
On thee, the sey-piece o' her skill.
Nae mair through straths in simmer dight
We seek the rose to bless our sight,
Or bid the bonny wa'-flowers blaw
Whare yonder ruins crumblin' fa';
Thy shining garments far outstrip
The cherries upo' Hebe's lip,
And fool the tints that Nature chose
To busk and paint the crimson rose.

'Mang men, wae 's-heart! we aften find
The brawest drest want peace of mind,
While he that gangs wi' ragged coat
Is weel contentit wi' his lot.
Whan wand wi' glewy birdlime 's set,



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To steal far aff your dautit mate,
Blyth wad ye change your cleething gay
In lieu of lav'rock's sober grey.
In vain thro' woods you sair may ban
Th'envious treachery of man,
That, wi' your gowden glister ta'en,
Still haunts you on the simmer's plain,
And traps you 'mang the sudden fa's
O’ winter's dreary dreepin' snaws.
Now steekit frae the gowany field,
Frae ilka fav'rite houff and bield,
But mergh, alas! to disengage
Your bonny bouck frae fettering cage,
Your free-born bosom beats in vain
For darling liberty again.
In window hung, how aft we see
Thee keek around at warblers free,
That carol saft, and sweetly sing
Wi' a' the blythness of the spring!
Like Tantalus they hing you here
To spy the glories o' the year;
And tho' you 're at the burnie's brink,
They douna suffer you to drink.

Ah, Liberty! thou bonny dame,
How wildly wanton is thy stream,
Round whilk the birdies a' rejoice,
An' hail you wi' a gratefu' voice.
The gowdspink chatters joyous here,
And courts wi' gleesome sangs his peer;
The mavis frae the new-bloomed thorn
Begins his lauds at earest morn;
And herd-lowns, louping o'er the grass,
Need far less fleetching till their lass
Than paughty damsels bred at courts,
Wha thraw their mou's and take the dorts:
But, reft of thee, fient flee we care
For a' that life ahint can spare.
The gowdspink, that sae lang has kenned
Thy happy sweets (his wonted friend),
Her sad confinement ill can brook
In some dark chamber's dowy nook ;





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