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The Belles Of Mauchline

By |2018-11-12T18:26:09+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles, The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a'; Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess, In Lon'onorParis, they'd gottenit a'. Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine, Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw: There's beauty and fortune to getwi'Miss Morton, ButArmour's [...]

The Mauchline Lady

By |2018-11-12T18:26:10+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

When first I came to Stewart Kyle, My mindit was nasteady; Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade, A mistress still I had aye. Butwhen I came roun'by Mauchline toun, Not dreadin anybody, My heart was caught, before I thought, And bya Mauchline lady.

On Tam The Chapman

By |2018-11-12T18:26:09+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

As Tam the chapmanon a day, Wi'Death forgather'd bythe way, Weelpleas'd, he greets a wightso famous, And Death was naeless pleas'd wi'Thomas, Whacheerfully lays down his pack, And there blaws up a hearty crack: His social, friendly, honest heart Saetickled Death, they could napart; Sae, after viewing knives and garters, Death taks him hameto giehim [...]

Remorse

By |2018-11-12T18:26:09+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace, That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish Beyond comparison the worst are those Byour own folly, or our guilt brought on: In ev'ry other circumstance, the mind Has this to say, "It was nodeed of mine:" But, when to all the evil of [...]

Epistle To John Rankine

By |2018-11-12T18:26:07+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Epistle, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O Rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine, The waleo' cocksfor fun an' drinkin! There's mony godly folks are thinkin, Your dreams and tricks Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin Straughtto auldNick's. Ye hae sawmony cracks an' cants, And in your wicked, drucken rants, Ye maka devil o' the saunts, An' fill them fou; And then their failings, flaws, [...]

Epitaph On John Rankine

By |2018-11-12T18:26:07+00:00November 10th, 2018|1784, Epitaph, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Was driving to the titherwarl' A mixtie-maxtiemotley squad, And mony a guilt-bespotted lad- Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of every rank and station, From him that wears the star and garter, To him that wintles in a halter: Ashamed himself to see the wretches, He mutters, [...]