Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie?Your impudence protects you sairly;I canna say but ye strunt rarely,Owre gauze and lace;Tho’, faith! I fear ye dine but sparelyOn sic a place. Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,Detested, shunn’d by saunt an’ sinner,How daur ye set your fit upon her–Sae fine a lady?Gae somewhere else and seek your […]

In answer to an obliging Letter he sentin the commencement of my poetic career. Sir, o’er a gill I gat your card,I trow it made me proud;“See wha taks notice o’ the bard!”I lap and cried fu’ loud. Now deil-ma-care about their jaw,The senseless, gawky million;I’ll cock my nose abune them a’,I’m roos’d by Craigen-Gillan! […]

All hail! inexorable lord!At whose destruction-breathing word,The mightiest empires fall!Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,The ministers of grief and pain,A sullen welcome, all! With stern-resolv’d, despairing eye,I see each aimed dart;For one has cut my dearest tie,And quivers in my heart.Then low’ring, and pouring,The storm no more I dread;Tho’ thick’ning, and black’ning,Round my devoted head. And thou […]

[On turning down with the Plough, in April, 1786.] Wee, modest crimson-tipped flow’r,Thou’s met me in an evil hour;For I maun crush amang the stoureThy slender stem:To spare thee now is past my pow’r,Thou bonie gem. Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet,The bonie lark, companion meet,Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet,Wi’ spreckl’d breast!When upward-springing, blythe, […]

Occasioned by the unfortunate issue of a Friend’s Amour. Alas! how oft does goodness would itself,And sweet affection prove the spring of woe! Home. O thou pale orb that silent shinesWhile care-untroubled mortals sleep!Thou seest a wretch who inly pines.And wanders here to wail and weep!With woe I nightly vigils keep,Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam;And […]

Mossgaville, May 3, 1786. I hold it, sir, my bounden dutyTo warn you how that Master Tootie,Alias, Laird M’Gaun,Was here to hire yon lad away‘Bout whom ye spak the tither day,An’ wad hae don’t aff han’; But lest he learn the callan tricks–An’ faith I muckle doubt him–Like scrapin out auld Crummie’s nicks,An’ tellin lies […]

Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d with care,A burden more than I can bear,I set me down and sigh;O life! thou art a galling load,Along a rough, a weary road,To wretches such as I!Dim backward as I cast my view,What sick’ning scenes appear!What sorrows yet may pierce me through,Too justly I may fear!Still caring, despairing,Must be my […]

Tune–“Will ye go to the Ewe-Bughts, Marion.” Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,And leave auld Scotia’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;But a’ the charms o’ the IndiesCan never equal thine. I hae sworn by […]

Sir, Yours this moment I unseal,And faith I’m gay and hearty!To tell the truth and shame the deil,I am as fou as Bartie:But Foorsday, sir, my promise leal,Expect me o’ your partie,If on a beastie I can speel,Or hurl in a cartie. Yours, Robert Burns.Mauchlin, Monday night, 10 o’clock. 1786

To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, […]

May , 1786. I Lang hae thought, my youthfu’ friend,A something to have sent you,Tho’ it should serve nae ither endThan just a kind memento:But how the subject-theme may gang,Let time and chance determine;Perhaps it may turn out a sang:Perhaps turn out a sermon. Ye’ll try the world soon, my lad;And, Andrew dear, believe me,Ye’ll […]

Tune–“The deuks dang o’er my daddy.” Nae gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae fair,Shall ever be my muse’s care:Their titles a’ arc empty show;Gie me my Highland lassie, O. Chorus.–Within the glen sae bushy, O,Aboon the plain sae rashy, O,I set me down wi’ right guid will,To sing my Highland lassie, O. O were yon hills […]

Expect na, sir, in this narration,A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication,To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid,An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble bluid,Because ye’re surnam’d like His Grace–Perhaps related to the race:Then, when I’m tir’d–and sae are ye,Wi’ mony a fulsome, sinfu’ lie,Set up a face how I stop short,For fear your modesty be hurt. This […]

Friday first’s the day appointedBy the Right Worshipful anointed, To hold our grand procession;To get a blad o’ Johnie’s morals,And taste a swatch o’ Manson’s barrels I’ the way of our profession.The Master and the BrotherhoodWould a’ be glad to see you;For me I would be mair than proud To share the mercies wi’ you.If […]

Tune–“Gilderoy.” From thee, Eliza, I must go,And from my native shore;The cruel fates between us throwA boundless ocean’s roar:But boundless oceans, roaring wide,Between my love and me,They never, never can divideMy heart and soul from thee. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,The maid that I adore!A boding voice is in mine ear,We part to meet no more!But […]

A’ ye wha live by sowps o’ drink,A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink,A’ ye wha live and never think,Come, mourn wi’ me!Our billie ‘s gien us a’ a jink,An’ owre the sea! Lament him a’ ye rantin core,Wha dearly like a random splore;Nae mair he’ll join the merry roar;In social key;For now he’s taen anither […]

Tune–“Guidnight, and joy be wi’ you a’.” Adieu! a heart-warm fond adieu;Dear brothers of the mystic tie!Ye favoured, enlighten’d few,Companions of my social joy;Tho’ I to foreign lands must hie,Pursuing Fortune’s slidd’ry ba’;With melting heart, and brimful eye,I’ll mind you still, tho’ far awa. Oft have I met your social band,And spent the cheerful, festive […]

Hic Jacet wee Johnie. Whoe’er thou art, O reader, knowThat Death has murder’d Johnie;An’ here his body lies fu’ low;For saul he ne’er had ony. 1786

Is there a whim-inspired fool,Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,Let him draw near;And owre this grassy heap sing dool,And drap a tear. Is there a bard of rustic song,Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,That weekly this area throng,O, pass not by!But, with a frater-feeling strong,Here, heave […]

Tune–“Ettrick Banks.” ‘Twas even–the dewy fields were green,On every blade the pearls hang;The zephyr wanton’d round the bean,And bore its fragrant sweets alang:In ev’ry glen the mavis sang,All nature list’ning seem’d the while,Except where greenwood echoes rang,Amang the braes o’ Ballochmyle. With careless step I onward stray’d,My heart rejoic’d in nature’s joy,When, musing in a […]