GANG.

Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang;
Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld grannie's sang;
Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang,
Creep awa', my bairnie--creep afore ye gang.

Creep awa', my bairnie, ye 're ower young to learn
To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn;
Better creepin' cannie, as fa'in' wi' a bang,
Duntin' a' your wee brow--creep afore ye gang.

Ye 'll creep, an' ye 'll hotch, an' ye 'll nod to your mither,
Watchin' ilka stap o' your wee donsy brither;
Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang,
An' ye 'll be a braw cheil' yet--creep afore ye gang.

The wee burdie fa's when it tries ower soon to flee;
Folks are sure to tumble when they climb ower hie;
They wha dinna walk right are sure to come to wrang--
Creep awa', my bairnie--creep afore ye gang.

AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER.

Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great,
The puirest bodie is still your brither;
The king may come in the cadger's gate--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The hale o' us rise frae the same cauld clay,
Ae hour we bloom, ae hour we wither;
Let ilk help ither to climb the brae--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The highest among us are unco wee,
Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither;
Hoard na, man, what ye get sae free!--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

Life is a weary journey alane,
Blithe 's the road when we wend wi' ither;
Mutual gi'ing is mutual gain--
Ae gude turn deserves anither.

THE NAMELESS LASSIE.

There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name,
There 's nane may ken the humble cot my lassie ca's her hame;
Yet though my lassie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree,
Her heart is warm, her thochts are pure, and, oh! she 's dear to me.

She 's gentle as she 's bonnie, an' she 's modest as she 's fair,
Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they 're rare;
While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea--
For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be!

Whene'er she shews her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw,
An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a';
But when wi' ither's sorrows touch'd, the tear starts to her e'e,
Oh! that 's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me.