"How daur ye ca' me "Howlet-face"?
Ye blear-e'ed, withered spectre !
Ye only spied the keekin-glass,
An' there ye saw your picture."
"Lord, to account who dares thee call,|
Or e'er dispute thy pleasure ?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure ?"
Address to a Haggis,|
A Man's a Man for a' that,
A Prayer Under the Pressure of Violent Anguish,
Auld Lang Syne,
Here's to thy Health,
Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation,
Tam o' Shanter,
only a few hundred to go ...
Yours this moment I unseal,
And faith I'm gay and hearty !
To tell the truth and shame the deil,
I am as fou as Bartie:
But Forrsday, sir, my promise leal,
Expect me o' your party,
If on a beastie I can speel,
Or hurl in a cartie."