“ Tho’ sweet is the violet new dawn in the morning,
⁠As tender and sweet is her blue rollin’ ee.
O say what is whiter than snaw on the mountain,
⁠Or what wi the red rose in beauty can vie?
Yes, whiter her bosom than snaw on the mountain,
⁠ And bonny her face as the red rose can be. ”

“ Then said James Wolfe we'll fight or die.
⁠Mourn Britain, mourn
⁠Thy choicest hero Wolf is slain.
⁠When first Montcalm him did behold.
He vow’d he was a soldier bold,
Ee ilke a Briton did advance,
And took Quebec in spite of France.
⁠Mourn, Britain, mourn,
⁠Thy choiest hero, wolfe is slain. ”

“ With looks an' wi' scraps I've address'd them
Been with them both modest and free.
But whatever way I caress'd them
There's something still ails them at me.
O, If I ken'd how but to gain them,
How fond of the knack wad I be!
Or what an address could obtain them,
It should be twice welcome to me.
If kissing and clapping wad clense them,
That trade of should drive till I die
But however I study to ease them,
They've ailful an exception at me
There's wratacks an cripples, an' crawshake,
An' the wan dog (illegible text) I ken. ”