O, For Ane-And-Twenty, Tam!

Tune - "The Moudiewort."


Chorus.

    An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam,
        An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam,
    I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,
        An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

I.

    They snool me sair, and haud me down,
        And gar me look like bluntie, Tam!
    But three short years will soon wheel roun'
        And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.

II.

    A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
        Was left me by my auntie, Tam,
    At kith or kin I need na spier,
        An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

III.

    They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
        Tho' I mysel' hae plenty, Tam;
    But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof
        I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam.
            An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam!
                An hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam!
            I'll learn my kin a rattlin' song,
                An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

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

To A Lady, With A Present Of A Pair Of Drinking-Glasses.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Scotch Drink.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

O Philly, Happy Be That Day.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Address To The Unco Guid, Or The Rigidly Righteous.

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.

What Can A Young Lassie.

Tune - "What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man."


I.

    What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
        What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
        To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
        To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!

II.

    He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',
        He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang;
    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
        O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
        O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!

III.

    He hums and he ha...

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

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

Auld Lang Syne.

I.

    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
        And never brought to min'?
    Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
        And days o' lang syne?
            For auld lang syne, my dear,
                For auld lang syne,
            We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
                For auld lang syne!

II.

    We twa hae run about the braes,
        And pu't the gowans fine;
    But we've wander'd mony a weary foot,
        Sin' auld lang syne.

III.

    We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,
        Frae mornin' sun till dine:
    But seas between us braid hae roar'd,
        Sin' auld lang syne.

IV.

    And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
        And gie's a hand o' thine;
    And we'll take ...

Robert Burns

The Bairns Gat Out.

Tune - "The deuks dang o'er my daddie."


I.

    The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout,
        The deuks dang o'er my daddie, O!
    The fien'-ma-care, quo' the feirrie auld wife,
        He was but a paidlin body, O!
    He paidles out, an' he paidles in,
        An' he paidles late an' early, O!
    This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
        An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O!

II.

    O, hand your tongue, my feirrie auld wife,
        O, haud your tongue, now Nansie, O!
    I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,
        Ye wadna been sae donsie, O!
    I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,
        And cuddled me late and early, O!
    But downa do's come o'er me now,
        And, oh! I feel it sairly, O...

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