Cock Up Your Beaver.

Tune - "Cock up your beaver."


I.

    When first my brave Johnnie lad
        Came to this town,
    He had a blue bonnet
        That wanted the crown;
    But now he has gotten
        A hat and a feather,
    Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
        Cock up your beaver!

II.

    Cock up your beaver,
        And cock it fu' sprush,
    We'll over the border
        And gie them a brush;
    There's somebody there
        We'll teach better behaviour,
    Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
        Cock up your beaver!

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

Let Not Woman E'er Complain.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Red, Red Rose.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Luckless Fortune.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Gudeen To You, Kimmer.

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.

Lady Mary Ann.

Tune - "Craigtown's growing."


I.

    O, Lady Mary Ann
        Looks o'er the castle wa',
    She saw three bonnie boys
        Playing at the ba';
    The youngest he was
        The flower amang them a'
    My bonnie laddie's young,
        But he's growin' yet.

II.

    O father! O father!
        An' ye think it fit,
    We'll send him a year
        To the college yet:
    We'll sew a green ribbon
        Round about his hat,
    And that will let them ken
        He's to marry yet.

III.

    Lady Mary Ann
        Was a flower i' the dew,
    Sweet was its smell,
        And bonnie was its hue;
    And the langer it blossom'd
        The sweeter it grew;
    Fo...

Robert Burns

O Willie Brew'd.

Tune - "Willie brew'd a peck o' maut."


I.

    O, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
        And Rob and Allan came to see:
    Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night
        Ye wad na find in Christendie.
                We are na fou, we're no that fou,
                    But just a drappie in our e'e;
                The cock may craw, the day may daw,
                    And aye we'll taste the barley bree.

II.

    Here are we met, three merry boys,
        Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
    And mony a night we've merry been,
        And mony mae we hope to be!

III.

    It is the moon--I ken her horn,
        That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;
    She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
     ...

Robert Burns

My Collier Laddie.

Tune - "The Collier Laddie."


I.

    Where live ye, my bonnie lass?
        An' tell me what they ca' ye;
    My name, she says, is Mistress Jean,
        And I follow the Collier Laddie.
    My name she says, is Mistress Jean,
        And I follow the Collier Laddie.

II.

    See you not yon hills and dales,
        The sun shines on sae brawlie!
    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.

III.

    Ye shall gang in gay attire,
        Weel buskit up sae gaudy;
    And ane to wait on every hand,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
    And ane to wa...

Robert Burns

The Cardin' O'T.

Tune - "Salt-fish and dumplings."


I.

    I coft a stane o' haslock woo',
        To make a wat to Johnny o't;
    For Johnny is my only jo,
        I lo'e him best of ony yet.
                The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
                    The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
                When ilka ell cost me a groat,
                    The tailor staw the lynin o't.

II.

    For though his locks be lyart gray,
        And tho' his brow be beld aboon;
    Yet I hae seen him on a day,
        The pride of a' the parishen.
                The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
                    The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
                When ilka ell cost me a groat,
                    The tailor staw ...

Robert Burns

The Lass Of Ecclefechan.

Tune - "Jacky Latin."


I.

    Gat ye me, O gat ye me,
        O gat ye me wi' naething?
    Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
        A mickle quarter basin.
    Bye attour, my gutcher has
        A hich house and a laigh ane,
    A' for bye, my bonnie sel',
        The toss of Ecclefechan.

II.

    O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
        O hand your tongue and jauner;
    I held the gate till you I met,
        Syne I began to wander:
    I tint my whistle and my sang,
        I tint my peace and pleasure:
    But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
        Wad airt me to my treasure.

Robert Burns

The Ploughman.

Tune - "Up wi' the ploughman."


I.

    The ploughman he's a bonnie lad,
        His mind is ever true, jo,
    His garters knit below his knee,
        His bonnet it is blue, jo.
                Then up wi' him my ploughman lad,
                    And hey my merry ploughman!
                Of a' the trades that I do ken,
                    Commend me to the ploughman.

II.

    My ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
        He's aften wat and weary;
    Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
        And gae to bed, my dearie!

III.

    I will wash my ploughman's hose,
        And I will dress his o'erlay;
    I will mak my ploughman's bed,
        And cheer him late and early.

IV.

   ...

Robert Burns