“ Ah! many's the time and oft;
But mirth is turn'd to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.
Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When He who all commands,
Shall give, to call life's crew together,
The word to pipe all hands. ”

“ Her face is fair, her hear is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O;
The opening gowan, wat wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nannie, O.
A country lad is my degree,
And few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few there be? ”

“ O joyous hour!
Compose a wreath of ev'ry flow'r;
Let's bind him to us, ne'er to sever,
Young Love shall dwell with us for ever.
Eternal spring the wreath composes,
Content's Love among the roses. ”