When Chill November's Surly Blast Made Fields

Oh, Stay, Sweet Warbling Woodlark, Stay, Nor Quit For Me The Trembling Spray, A Hapless Lover Courts Thy Lay, Thy Soothing, Fond Complaining.

The Best-laid Plans Of Mice And Men Often Go Awry.

If Heaven A Draught Of Heavenly Pleasure Spare, One Cordial In This Melancholy Vale, 't Is When A Youthful, Loving, Modest Pair In Other's Arms Breathe Out The Tender Tale

An Atheist's Laugh 's A Poor Exchange For Deity Offended!

Just Now I've Taen The Fit O' Rhyme / My Barmie Noddle's Working Prime.