The Lass O’ Ecclefechan

By |2018-11-12T18:28:54+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Gat ye me, O gat ye me, O gatye me wi'naething? Rockanreel, and spinning wheel, A micklequarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcherhas A heichhouse and a laich ane, A'forbye my boniesel, The tosso'Ecclefechan. O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang, O haudyour tongue and jauner I held the gatetillyou I met, SyneI began to wander: [...]

The Wren’s Nest

By |2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The Robin to the Wren's nest Cam keekin' in, camkeekin' in; O weel's me on your auld pow, Wad ye be in, wadye be in? Thou's ne'er getleave to lie without, And I within, and I within, Saelang's I haeanauldclout To rowe ye in, to rowe ye in.

Their Groves O’Sweet Myrtle

By |2018-11-12T18:28:54+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan, Wi' the burnstealing under the lang, yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yonhumble broom bowers Where the blue-bell and gowanlurk, lowly, unseen; For there, lightlytripping, among the wild flowers, A-list'ning [...]

There Was A Bonie Lass

By |2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass, And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear; TillWar's loud alarms tore her laddiefraeher arms, Wi'mony a sigh and tear. Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear; And nochtcould him quail, orhis bosom assail, Butthe bonielass he [...]

Twas Na Her Bonie Blue E’e

By |2018-11-12T18:28:54+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

'Twas naher bonieblue e'ewas my ruin, Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoin'; 'Twas the dear smile when naebodydid mindus, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness: 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stownglance o' kindness. Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, Sairdo I fear that despair maunabide me, Buttho' [...]

Verses To Collector Mitchell

By |2018-11-12T18:28:50+00:00November 10th, 2018|1795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Friend of the Poet, tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg orsteal; Alake, alake, the meikledeil Wi' a'his witches Are at it skelpin jig and reel, In my poor pouches? I modestly fu'fainwadhint it, That One-pound-one, I sairlywant it; If wi' the hizziedown ye sent it, It would be kind; And while my heart [...]