On A Henpecked Country Squire.

    As father Adam first was fool'd,
        A case that's still too common,
    Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
        The devil rul'd the woman.

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 Red, Red Rose.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Address Of Beelzebub To The President Of The Highland Society.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Logan Water.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

There Was A Lass.

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.

The Henpecked Husband.

    Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
    The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
    Who has no will but by her high permission;
    Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
    Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
    Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
    Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
    I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart;
    I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
    I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b----h.

Robert Burns

On The Same. (On A Henpecked Country Squire.)

    One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
    When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well,
    In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her,
    She reduc'd him to dust and she drank up the powder.
    But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion,
    When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction,
    Would have eat her dear lord, on a slender pretence,
    Not to show her respect, but to save the expense.

Robert Burns

On The Same. (On A Henpecked Country Squire.)

    O Death, hadst thou but spared his life,
        Whom we this day lament,
    We freely wad exchang'd the wife,
        And a' been weel content!

    Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff,
        The swap we yet will do't;
    Take thou the carlin's carcase aff,
        Thou'se get the soul to boot.

Robert Burns

To Dr. Blacklock, In Answer To A Letter.

Ellisland, 21st Oct. 1789.

    Wow, but your letter made me vauntie!
    And are ye hale, and weel, and cantie?
    I kenn'd it still your wee bit jauntie
        Wad bring ye to:
    Lord send you ay as weel's I want ye,
        And then ye'll do.

    The ill-thief blaw the heron south!
    And never drink be near his drouth!
    He tauld mysel' by word o' mouth,
        He'd tak my letter:
    I lippen'd to the chief in trouth,
        And bade nae better.

    But aiblins honest Master Heron,
    Had at the time some dainty fair one,
    To ware his theologic care on,
        And holy study;
    And tir'd o' sauls to waste his lear on
        E'en tried the body.

    But what dy'e think, my trusty fier,
    ...

Robert Burns

The Kirk's Alarm. - A Ballad. (Second Version.)

I.

                Orthodox, orthodox,
                Who believe in John Knox,
    Let me sound an alarm to your conscience,
                There's a heretic blast,
                Has been blawn i' the wast,
    That what is not sense must be nonsense,
        Orthodox,
    That what is not sense must be nonsense.

II.

                Doctor Mac, Doctor Mac,
                Ye should stretch on a rack,
    And strike evil doers wi' terror;
                To join faith and sense,
                Upon any pretence,
    Was heretic damnable error,
        Doctor Mac,
    Was heretic damnable error.

III.

                Town of Ayr, town of Ayr,
                It was rash I declare,
    To meddle wi' misc...

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