Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith; Fife up and down, and the Louthians three, And Graith my horse!
"Minstrelsy of the Scottish border (3rd ed) (1 of 3)"
Walter Scott
Anither time's as good; for see the sun Is right far up, and we're not yet begun To freath the Graith: if canker'd Madge, our aunt, Come up the burn, she'll gie's a wicked rant; But when we've done, I'll tell you a' my mind; For this seems true-nae lass can be unkind.
"Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Vol. 3"
George Gilfillan
Got through three bottles a day, And never turned a hair, when his own master, Before we'd to quit Rawridge, because the dandy Had put himself outside of all his money- Teeming it down his throat in liquid gold, Swallowing stock and plenishing, gear and Graith.
"Krindlesyke"
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson