Galla Water.

I.

    There's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
        That wander thro' the blooming heather;
    But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws
        Can match the lads o' Galla Water.

II.

    But there is ane, a secret ane,
        Aboon them a' I lo'e him better;
    And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
        The bonnie lad o' Galla Water.

III.

    Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
        And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher;
    Yet rich in kindest, truest love,
        We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water.

IV.

    It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
        That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
    The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
        O that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

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

Lines On Mrs. Kemble.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Braw Lads Of Galla Water.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On Chloris Being Ill.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

To Mr. Syme. With A Present Of A Dozen Of Porter.

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.

Braw Lads Of Galla Water.

Tune - "Galla Water."


Chorus.

    Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
        O braw lads of Galla Water:
    I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
        And follow my love thro' the water.

I.

    Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brow,
        Sae bonny blue her een, my dearie;
    Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou',
        The mair I kiss she's ay my dearie.

II.

    O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,
        O'er yon moss amang the heather;
    I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
        And follow my love thro' the water.

III.

    Down amang the broom, the broom,
        Down amang the broom, my dearie,
    The lassie lost a silken snood,
        That cost her mony a blirt and blear...

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

Yon Wild Mossy Mountains.

Tune - "Yon wild mossy mountains."


I.

    Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
    That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
    Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
    And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
        Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
        And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

II.

    Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
    To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
    For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
    Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
        For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
        Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

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

Epistle To Major Logan.

    Hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' Willie!
    Though fortune's road be rough an' hilly
    To every fiddling, rhyming billie,
        We never heed,
    But tak' it like the unback'd filly,
        Proud o' her speed.

    When idly goavan whyles we saunter
    Yirr, fancy barks, awa' we canter
    Uphill, down brae, till some mishanter,
        Some black bog-hole,
    Arrests us, then the scathe an' banter
        We're forced to thole.

    Hale be your heart! Hale be your fiddle!
    Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle,
    To cheer you through the weary widdle
        O' this wild warl',
    Until you on a crummock driddle
        A gray-hair'd carl.

    Come wealth, come poortith, late or soon,
    Heaven send your hear...

Robert Burns

Auld Rob Morris.

I.

    There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
    He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men;
    He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
    And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

II.

    She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
    She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
    As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
    And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

III.

    But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
    And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
    A wooer like me mamma hope to come speed;
    The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

IV.

    The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
    The night comes to me, but my...

Robert Burns