We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free.

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!

She was convinced the country was about to succumb to revolutionary socialism. Her own circumstances encouraged this belief: just on the edge of the really rich country set, she shared their views and opinions but lacked the financial and architechtural insulation from real or imagined political troubles. She found crushed larger cans and cigarette packets in her front garden and interpreted these as menacing signals from the Perthshire proletariat. Every flicker and dim of electric light was a portent of class war.

The appellation of a Scottish Bard is by far my highest pride; to continue to deserve it is my most exalted ambition.

Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots, Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;- If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it: A chield's amang you takin notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent; Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content.