| Ae fond kiss, and then we sever | 104 |
| Come boat me o’er, come row me o’er | 77 |
| Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face | 74 |
| Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame | 103 |
| Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes | 86 |
| For Lords or kings I dinna mourn | 84 |
| Green grow the rashes, O | 16 |
| Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie | 42 |
| Here lie Willie Michie’s banes | 79 |
| I hae a wife o’ my ain | 105 |
| I lang hae thought, my youthfu’ friend | 65 |
| Is there a whim-inspir’d fool | 72 |
| Is there for honest poverty | 113 |
| It was upon a Lammas night | 4 |
| John Anderson my jo, John | 92 |
| Kind Sir, I’ve read your paper through | 87 |
| Lament in rhyme, lament in prose | 11 |
| Lang hae we parted been | 89 |
| Let other Poets raise a fracas | 51 |
| Long life, my lord, an’ health be yours | 69 |
| My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O | 13 |
| My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie | 80 |
| My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here | 91 |
| My love she’s but a lassie yet | 90 |
| My luve is like a red, red rose | 109 |
| My Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form | 76 |
| Now westlin winds, and slaught’ring guns | 6 |
| O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide | 106 |
| O Mary, at thy window be | 3 |
| O once I lov’d a bonny lass | 1 |
| O rattlin, roarin Willie | 78 |
| O Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell | 18 |
| O Thou, whatever title suit thee | 56 |
| Sae flaxen were her ringlets | 110 |
| Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled | 108 |
| Should auld acquaintance be forgot | 82 |
| Some have meat and cannot eat | 115 |
| There was three kings into the east | 8 |
| Thou’s welcome wean, mischanter fa’ me | 22 |
| To you, Sir, this summons I’ve sent | 61 |
| ’Twas on a Monday morning | 116 |
| Upon a simmer Sunday morn | 31 |
| Wae worth thy pow’r, thou cursed leaf | 68 |
| Was e’er puir Poet sae befitted | 26 |
| Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r | 63 |
| Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie | 40 |
| When chapman billies leave the street | 93 |
| When chill November’s surly blast | 27 |
| When maukin bucks, at early f–s | 112 |
| Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon | 101 |
| Ye Irish lords, ye knights an’ squires | 44 |
| Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear | 102 |
| Ye jovial boys who love the joys | 24 |