Ca' The Ewes.

Tune - "Ca' the ewes to the knowes."


Chorus

    Ca' the ewes to the knowes,
    Ca' them whare the heather grows,
    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,
        My bonnie dearie!

I.

    As I gaed down the water-side,
    There I met my shepherd lad,
    He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
        An' he ca'd me his dearie.

II.

    Will ye gang down the water-side,
    And see the waves sae sweetly glide,
    Beneath the hazels spreading wide?
        The moon it shines fu' clearly.

III.

    I was bred up at nae sic school,
    My shepherd lad, to play the fool,
    And a' the day to sit in dool,
        And naebody to see me.

IV.

    Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,
    Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,
    And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,
        And ye shall be my dearie.

V.

    If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
    I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,
    And ye may rowe me in your plaid,
        And I shall be your dearie.

VI.

    While waters wimple to the sea;
    While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
    'Till clay-cauld death sall blin' my e'e,
        Ye sall be my dearie.
                Ca' the ewes to the knowes,
                Ca' them whare the heather grows,
                Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,
                    My bonnie dearie.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns, also known as Rabbie Burns, the Bard of Ayrshire, and various other names and epithets, was a Scottish poet and lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland and is celebrated worldwide. Born on January 25, 1759, in Alloway, he is best known for works such as 'Auld Lang Syne,' 'Scots Wha Hae,' and 'A Red, Red Rose.' He passed away on July 21, 1796, in Dumfries.

Robert Burns

Verses - Written Under The Portrait Of Fergusson, The Poet, In A Copy Of That Author's Works Presented To A Young Lady.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Prayer, Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Written With A Pencil, Standing By The Fall Of Fyers, Near Loch-Ness

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Banks Of Doon. (First Version.)

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Ca' The Yowes.

I.

    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them whare the heather growes,
    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes -
        My bonnie dearie!
    Hark the mavis' evening sang
    Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
    Then a faulding let us gang,
        My bonnie dearie.

II.

    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
        To the moon sae clearly.

III.

    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
    O'er the dewy bending flowers,
        Fairies dance so cheery.

IV.

    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
    Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
        My bo...

Robert Burns

Country Lassie.

Tune - "The Country Lass."


I.

    In simmer, when the hay was mawn,
        And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
    While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
        And roses blaw in ilka bield;
    Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
        Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will;
    Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild
        O' guid advisement comes nae ill.

II.

    It's ye hae wooers mony ane,
        And, lassie, ye're but young ye ken;
    Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,
        A routhie butt, a routhie ben:
    There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
        Fu' is his burn, fu' is his byre;
    Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen,
        It's plenty beets the luver's fire.

III.

    For Johnie ...

Robert Burns

The Highland Lassie.

Tune - "The deuks dang o'er my daddy!"


I.

    Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
    Shall ever be my muse's care:
    Their titles a' are empty show;
    Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
            Within the glen sae bushy, O,
            Aboon the plains sae rushy, O,
            I set me down wi' right good-will,
            To sing my Highland lassie, O.

II.

    Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
    Yon palace and yon gardens fine,
    The world then the love should know
    I bear my Highland lassie, O.

III.

    But fickle fortune frowns on me,
    And I maun cross the raging sea;
    But while my crimson currents flow,
    I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

IV.

    A...

Robert Burns

My Heart Was Ance.

Tune - "To the weavers gin ye go."


I.

    My heart was ance as blythe and free
        As simmer days were lang,
    But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
        Has gart me change my sang.
            To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
                To the weavers gin ye go;
            I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
                To the weavers gin ye go.

II.

    My mither sent me to the town,
        To warp a plaiden wab;
    But the weary, weary warpin o't
        Has gart me sigh and sab.

III.

    A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
        Sat working at his loom;
    He took my heart as wi' a net,
        In every knot and thrum.

IV.

    I sat beside my warpin-whee...

Robert Burns

O Saw Ye My Dearie.

Tune - "Eppie Macnab."


I.

    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
    O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
    She's down in the yard, she's kissin' the laird,
    She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab.
    O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
    O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
    Whate'er thou hast done, be it late, be it soon,
    Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.

II.

    What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
    What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
    She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot,
    And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.
    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
    As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,

Robert Burns

My Ain Kind Dearie O.

I.

    When o'er the hill the eastern star
        Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo;
    And owsen frae the furrow'd field
        Return sae dowf and weary, O!
    Down by the burn, where scented birks^[1]
        Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo;
    I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
        My ain kind dearie O!

II.

    In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,
        I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O;
    If thro' that glen I gaed to thee,
        My ain kind dearie O!
    Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
        And I were ne'er sae wearie, O,
    I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,
        My ain kind dearie O!

III.

    The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
        To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
    A...

Robert Burns