Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his speech, His breath like caller air, His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stairs: And will I see his… - William Julius Mickle

Knowledge or wealth to few are given,
But mark how just the ways of Heaven:
True joy to all is free.
Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon:
'Tis thine, O conscience, thine alone,
It all belongs to thee.

For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa'.

There, where the cross in hoary ruin nods,
And weeping yews o'ershade the lettered stones,
While midnight silence wraps these dark abodes,
And soothes me wand'ring o'er my kindred bones,
Let kindled fancy view the glorious morn,
When from the bursting graves the dust shall rise,
All nature smiling, and, by angels borne,
Messiah's cross, far blazing o'er the skies.