Coming Through The Rye.

Tune - "Coming through the rye."


I.

    Coming through the rye, poor body,
        Coming through the rye,
    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
        Coming through the rye.
    Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
        Jenny's seldom dry;
    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
        Coming through the rye.

II.

    Gin a body meet a body
        Coming through the rye,
    Gin a body kiss a body
        Need a body cry?

III.

    Gin a body meet a body
        Coming through the glen,
    Gin a body kiss a body
        Need the world ken?
    Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
        Jenny's seldom dry;
    She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
        Coming through the rye.

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

Written On A Pane Of Glass, In The Inn At Moffat.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Tither Moon.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

When I Think On The Happy Days.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Carles Of Dysart.

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.

My Lady's Gown, There's Gairs Upon'T.

Tune - "Gregg's Pipes."



I.

    My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,
    And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
    But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
    My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.
    My lord a-hunting he is gane,
    But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane;
    By Colin's cottage lies his game,
    If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

II.

    My lady's white, my lady's red,
    And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude;
    But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
    Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.

III.

    Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,
    Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
    There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,
    A lily in a wilderness.

IV.

    Sae sweetly ...

Robert Burns

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

Theniel Menzies' Bonnie Mary.

Tune. - "The Ruffian's Rant."


I.

    In coming by the brig o' Dye,
        At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
    As day was dawin in the sky,
        We drank a health to bonnie Mary.
                Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
                    Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
                Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
                    Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

II.

    Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
        Her haffet locks as brown's a berry;
    And ay, they dimpl't wi' a smile,
        The rosy checks o' bonnie Mary.

III.

    We lap and danced the lee lang day,
        Till piper lads were wae and weary;
    But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
        For kissin' Theniel's...

Robert Burns

Menie.

Tune. - "Johnny's grey breeks."


I.

    Again rejoicing nature sees
        Her robe assume its vernal hues,
    Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
        All freshly steep'd in morning dews.
            And maun I still on Menie doat,
                And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
            For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
                An' it winna let a body be.

II.

    In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
        In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
    In vain to me, in glen or shaw,
        The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

III.

    The merry plough-boy cheers his team,
        Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;
    But life to me's a weary dream,
        A dream of ane t...

Robert Burns

Rattlin', Roarin' Willie.

Tune - "Rattlin', roarin' Willie."


I.

    O rattlin', roarin' Willie,
        O, he held to the fair,
    An' for to sell his fiddle,
        An' buy some other ware;
    But parting wi' his fiddle,
        The saut tear blint his ee;
    And rattlin', roarin' Willie,
        Ye're welcome hame to me!

II.

    O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
        O sell your fiddle sae fine;
    O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
        And buy a pint o' wine!
    If I should sell my fiddle,
        The warl' would think I was mad;
    For mony a rantin' day
        My fiddle and I hae had.

III.

    As I cam by Crochallan,
        I cannily keekit ben,
    Rattlin', roarin' Willie
        Was...

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