Some Wee Short Hour Ayont The Twal.

Hope Springs Exulting On Triumphant Wing.

For Gold The Merchant Ploughs The Main, The Farmer Ploughs The Manor.

There's Some Are Fou O' Love Divine; There's Some Are Fou O' Brandy.

Good Lord, What Is Man! For As Simple He Looks, Do But Try To Develop His Books And His Crooks, With His Depths And His Shallows, His Good And His Evil, All In All, He's A Problem Must Puzzle The Devil.

What's Done We Partly May Compute, But Know Not What's Resisted.