There is little sap in dry peis hools.
Man propones, but God dispones.
Ryme spares no man.
He sits full still that hes a riven brick.
Like draws to like, a skabbed Horse to an old dyke.
Better auld debts nor auld sairs.
It is na time to stoup when the head is off.
And old hound bytes fair.
Follow love, and it will flee from thee; leave it, and it will follow thee.
It goes as meiklle in his heart, as in his heel.