On A Wag In Mauchline.

    Lament him, Mauchline husbands a',
        He aften did assist ye;
    For had ye staid whole weeks awa,
        Your wives they ne'er had missed ye.
    Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press
        To school in bands thegither,
    O tread ye lightly on his grass,
        Perhaps he was your father.

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

The Farewell.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On The Same. (On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.)

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Chloris.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Cassillis' Banks.

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.

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

The Mauchline Lady.

Tune - "I had a horse, I had nae mair."


    When first I came to Stewart Kyle,
        My mind it was nae steady;
    Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade,
        A mistress still I had ay:
    But when I came roun' by Mauchline town,
        Not dreadin' any body,
    My heart was caught before I thought,
        And by a Mauchline lady.

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

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

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

Letter To James Tennant, Of Glenconner.

    Auld comrade dear, and brither sinner,
    How's a' the folk about Glenconner?
    How do you this blae eastlin wind,
    That's like to blaw a body blind?
    For me, my faculties are frozen,
    My dearest member nearly dozen'd,
    I've sent you here, by Johnie Simson,
    Twa sage philosophers to glimpse on;
    Smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling,
    An' Reid, to common sense appealing.
    Philosophers have fought and wrangled,
    An' meikle Greek and Latin mangled,
    Till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd,
    An' in the depth of science mir'd,
    To common sense they now appeal,
    What wives and wabsters see and feel.
    But, hark ye, friend! I charge you strictly
    Peruse them, an' return them quickly,
    For now I'm grown sae curse...

Robert Burns