I Waive The Quantum O'

My Heart 's In The Highlands, My Heart Is Not Here; My Heart 's In The Highlands A-chasing The Deer.

Prudent, Cautious Self-control Is Wisdom's Root.

But Mousie, Thou Art No Thy Lane In Proving Foresight May Be Vain The Best-laid Schemes O' Mice An' Men Gang Aft Agley An' Lea'e Us Nought But Grief An' Pain For Promis'd Joy!

To See Her Is To Love Her, And Love But Her Forever; For Nature Made Her What She Is, And Never Made Anither!

My Dear, My Native Soil! For Whom My Warmest Wish To Heav'n Is Sent, Long May Thy Hardy Sons Of Rustic Toil Be Blest With Health, And Peace, And Sweet Content!