There's Some Are Fou O' Love Divine;

The Golden Hours On Angel Wings Flew O'er Me And My Dearie, For Dear To Me As Light And Life Was My Sweet Highland Mary.

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

Ye Hypocrites, Are These Your Pranks To Murder Men And Gie God Thanks Desist For Shame, Proceed No Further God Won't Accept Your Thanks For Murder.

Suspense Is Worst Than Disappointment.

Critics! Those Cut-throat Bandits In The Paths Of Fame.