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A Red, Red Rose

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O my Luve's like a red, redrose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonielass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Tilla'the seas gangdry, my dear, And

A Vision

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

As I stood by yonroofless tower, Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air, Where the howletmourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. The winds were laid, the airwas still, The stars they shot alangthe sky; The fox was howling on the hill, And the distant echoing glens reply. The stream,

Bannocks O’ Bear Meal

2018-11-12T18:28:26+00:00Categories: 1794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Chorus-Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley, Here's to the Highlandman's Bannocks o' barley! Wha, in a brulyie, will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi' the Bannocks o' barley, Bannocks o' bear meal, &c. Wha, in his waedays, Were loyal to Charlie? Whabutthe lads wi'the Bannocks o' barley! Bannocks o'bearmeal, &c.

Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie

2018-11-12T18:28:36+00:00Categories: 1794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Chorus-Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Well thou know'st my aching heart, And canst thou leave me thus, for pity? Is this thy plighted, fond regard, Thus cruelly to part, my Katie? Is this thy faithful swain's reward- Anaching, broken heart, my Katie! Canst thou leave me,

Logan Braes

2018-11-12T18:28:19+00:00Categories: 1793, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride, And years sinsynehaeo'er us run, Like Logan to the simmersun: But now thy flowery banks appear Like drumlieWinter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maunface his faes, Far, far frae me and Logan braes. Again the merry month of May Has

Lord Gregory

2018-11-12T18:28:12+00:00Categories: 1793, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O mirk, mirkis this midnight hour, And loud the tempest's roar; A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory, ope thy door. Anexile fraeher father's ha', And a'for loving thee; At least some pity on me shaw, If love it may nabe. Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove BybonieIrwine side, Where first I own'd

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