"The night was still, and o'er the hill The moon shone on the castle wa'; The mavissang, while dew-drops hang Around her on the castle wa'; Saemerrily they danced the ring Fraeeenin' tillthe cockdid craw; And aye the o'erwordo'the spring Was ""Irvine's bairns are boniea'."""
Sir, Yours this moment I unseal, And faith I'm gay and hearty! To tell the truth and shame the deil, I am as fouas Bartie: ButFoorsday, sir, my promise leal, Expect me o'your partie, If on a beastieI can speel, Orhurlin a cartie. Yours, Robert Burns. Mauchlin, Monday night, 10 o'clock.
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auldScotia's shore? Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Across th' Atlantic roar? O sweet grows the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine; Buta'the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine. I hae sworn by the Heavens to my [...]
Wi' braw new branksin micklepride, And ekea brawnew brechan, My Pegasus I'm got astride, And up Parnassus pechin; Whiles owrea bush wi' donwward crush, The doitedbeastiestammers; Then up he gets, and off he sets, For sake o' Willie Chalmers. I doubt na, lass, that weelken'd name May cost a pair o'blushes; I am nae stranger [...]
'Twas even-the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang; The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, And boreits fragrant sweets alang: In ev'ry glen the mavissang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amangthe braes o' Ballochmyle. With careless step I onward stray'd, My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy, [...]
Yon wild mossy mountains saelofty and wide, That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde, Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed, And the shepherd tends his flock as he pipes on his reed. Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores, To me hae the charms o'yon wild, [...]
Kilmarnock wabsters, fidgean' claw, An' pour your creeshienations; An' ye whaleather raxan' draw, Of a' denominations; Swithto the Ligh Kirk, ane an' a' An' there takup your stations; Then aff to Begbie's in a raw, An' pour divine libations For joy this day. Curst Common-sense, that imp o' hell, Camin wi' Maggie Lauder;^1 But Oliphant^2aftmade [...]
'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle, That bears the name o' auld King Coil, Upon a bonie day in June, When wearin' thro' the afternoon, Twadogs, that were na thrangat hame, Forgather'd anceupon a time. The first I'll name, they ca'd him Caesar, Was keepit for His Honor's pleasure: His hair, his size, his [...]