O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June: O my Luve’s like the melodie, That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will ...  [+]

On Turning One Down with the Plow, in April, 1786
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is ...  [+]

On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785
Little, artful, cowering, timid beast, Oh, what a panic is in your heart! You need not start away so hasty With bickering prattle! I ...  [+]