O Philly, Happy Be That Day.

Tune - "The Sow's Tail."


He.

    O Philly, happy be that day,
    When roving through the gather'd hay,
    My youthfu' heart was stown away,
        And by thy charms, my Philly.

She.

    O Willy, ay I bless the grove
    Where first I own'd my maiden love,
    Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above,
        To be my ain dear Willy.

He.

    As songsters of the early year
    Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
    So ilka day to me mair dear
        And charming is my Philly.

She.

    As on the brier the budding rose
    Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
    So in my tender bosom grows
        The love I bear my Willy.

He.

    The milder sun and bluer sky
    That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
    Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
        As is a sight o' Philly.

She.

    The little swallow's wanton wing,
    Tho' wafting o'er the flowery spring,
    Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,
        As meeting o' my Willy.

He.

    The bee that thro' the sunny hour
    Sips nectar in the opening flower,
    Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
        Upon the lips o' Philly.

She.

    The woodbine in the dewy weet
    When evening shades in silence meet,
    Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
        As is a kiss o' Willy.

He.

    Let Fortune's wheel at random rin,
    And fools may tyne, and knaves may win
    My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
        And that's my ain dear Philly.

She.

    What's a' joys that gowd can gie?
    I care nae wealth a single flie;
    The lad I love's the lad for me,
        And that's my ain dear Willy.

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

A Grace.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On The Death Of A Lap-Dog, Named Echo.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Epistle From Esopus To Maria.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Creed Of Poverty.

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.

Adown Winding Nith.

I.

    Adown winding Nith I did wander,
        To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
    Adown winding Nith I did wander,
        Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
    Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,
        They never wi' her can compare:
    Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,
        Has met wi' the queen o' the fair.

II.

    The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
        So artless, so simple, so wild;
    Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis,
        For she is simplicity's child.

III.

    The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
        Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:
    How fair and how pure is the lily,
        But fairer and purer her breast.

IV.

    Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,...

Robert Burns

To Mrs. Scott, Of Wauchope.

    I mind it weel in early date,
    When I was beardless, young and blate,
        An' first could thresh the barn;
    Or hand a yokin at the pleugh;
    An' tho' forfoughten sair enough,
        Yet unco proud to learn:
    When first amang the yellow corn
        A man I reckon'd was,
    An' wi' the lave ilk merry morn
        Could rank my rig and lass,
            Still shearing, and clearing,
                The tither stooked raw,
            Wi' claivers, an' haivers,
                Wearing the day awa.

    E'en then, a wish, I mind its pow'r,
    A wish that to my latest hour
        Shall strongly heave my breast,
    That I for poor auld Scotland's sake
    Some usefu' plan or beuk could make,
        Or sing a sang at least...

Robert Burns

Phillis The Fair.

Tune - "Robin Adair."



I.

    While larks with little wing
        Fann'd the pure air,
    Tasting the breathing spring,
        Forth I did fare:
    Gay the sun's golden eye
    Peep'd o'er the mountains high;
    Such thy morn! did I cry,
        Phillis the fair.

II.

    In each bird's careless song,
        Glad I did share;
    While yon wild flowers among,
        Chance led me there:
    Sweet to the opening day,
    Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
    Such thy bloom! did I say,
        Phillis the fair.

III.

    Down in a shady walk
        Doves cooing were,
    I mark'd the cruel hawk,
        Caught in a snare:
    So kind may fortune be,
    Such make...

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

Blithe Was She.

Tune - "Andro and his cutty gun."


Chorus.

    Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
        Blithe was she but and ben:
    Blithe by the banks of Ern,
        And blithe in Glenturit glen.

I.

    By Auchtertyre grows the aik,
        On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
    But Phemie was a bonnier lass
        Than braes of Yarrow ever saw.

II.

    Her looks were like a flow'r in May,
        Her smile was like a simmer morn;
    She tripped by the banks of Ern,
        As light's a bird upon a thorn.

III.

    Her bonnie face it was as meek
        As any lamb upon a lea;
    The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet,
        As was the blink o' Phemie's ee.

IV.

    The ...

Robert Burns

Saw Ye My Phely. (Quasi Dicat Phillis.)

Tune - "When she came ben she bobbit."


I.

    O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
    O saw ye my dear, my Phely?
    She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love!
        She winna come hame to her Willy.

II.

    What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
    What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
    She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
        And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.

III.

    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
    O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
    As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
        Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.

Robert Burns