When Chill November's Surly Blast

Morality, Thou Deadly Bane, Thy Tens O' Thousands Thou Hast Slain! Vain Is His Hope, Whose Stay An' Trust Is In Moral Mercy, Truth, And Justice!

Gie Me Ae Spark O' Nature's Fire, That's A' The Learning I Desire.

To Make A Happy Fireside Clime To Weans And Wife, That's The True Pathos And Sublime Of Human Life.

Misled By Fancy's Meteor Ray, By Passion Driven; But Yet The Light That Led Astray Was Light From Heaven.

Go Fetch To Me A Pint O' Wine, An' Fill It In A Silver Tassie.