Tam, The Chapman.

    As Tam the Chapman on a day,
    Wi' Death forgather'd by the way,
    Weel pleas'd he greets a wight so famous,
    And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas,
    Wha cheerfully lays down the pack,
    And there blaws up a hearty crack;
    His social, friendly, honest heart,
    Sae tickled Death they could na part:
    Sac after viewing knives and garters,
    Death takes him hame to gie him quarters.

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

Is There, For Honest Poverty.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

To Robert Graham, Esq., Of Fintray.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Auld Rob Morris.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

To Chloris.

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.

Tam Samson's Elegy.[1]

    "An honest man's the noblest work of God."

Pope.


    Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil?
    Or great M'Kinlay^[2] thrawn his heel?
    Or Robinson^[3] again grown weel,
        To preach an' read?
    "Na, waur than a'!" cries ilka chiel,
        Tam Samson's dead!

    Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane,
    An' sigh, an' sob, an' greet her lane,
    An' cleed her bairns, man, wife, an wean,
        In mourning weed;
    To death, she's dearly paid the kane,
        Tam Samson's dead!

    The brethren o' the mystic level
    May hing their head in woefu' bevel,
    While by their nose the tears will revel,
        Like ony bead;
    Death's gien the lodge an unco devel,
        Tam Samson's ...

Robert Burns

Tam O' Shanter. - A Tale.

    "Of brownys and of bogilis full is this buke."

Gawin Douglas


    When chapman billies leave the street,
    And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
    As market-days are wearing late,
    An' folk begin to tak' the gate;
    While we sit bousing at the nappy,
    An' gettin' fou and unco happy,
    We think na on the lang Scots miles,
    The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
    That lie between us and our hame,
    Where sits our sulky sullen dame,
    Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
    Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

    This truth fand honest Tam O' Shanter,
    As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
    (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
    For honest men and bonny lasses.)
    O Tam! hadst thou but been ...

Robert Burns

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations Through Scotland, Collecting The Antiquities Of That Kingdom.

    Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots,
    Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's;
    If there's a hole in a' your coats,
        I rede you tent it:
    A chiel's amang you taking notes,
        And, faith, he'll prent it!

    If in your bounds ye chance to light
    Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,
    O' stature short, but genius bright,
        That's he, mark weel,
    And wow! he has an unco slight
        O' cauk and keel.

    By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,
    Or kirk deserted by its riggin,
    It's ten to one ye'll find him snug in
        Some eldritch part,
    Wi' deils, they say, L--d save's! colleaguin'
        At some black art.

    Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer,
    Ye gipsey-gang that deal in...

Robert Burns

Macpherson's Farewell.

Tune - "M'Pherson's Rant."


I.

    Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
        The wretch's destinie!
    Macpherson's time will not be long
        On yonder gallows-tree.
                Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
                    Sae dauntingly gaed he;
                He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
                    Below the gallows-tree.

II.

    Oh, what is death but parting breath?
        On many a bloody plain
    I've dar'd his face, and in this place
        I scorn him yet again!

III.

    Untie these bands from off my hands,
        And bring to me my sword;
    And there's no a man in all Scotland,
        But I'll brave him at a word.

IV.

    ...

Robert Burns

Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn.

I.

    The wind blew hollow frae the hills,
        By fits the sun's departing beam
    Look'd on the fading yellow woods
        That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream:
    Beneath a craggy steep, a bard,
        Laden with years and meikle pain,
    In loud lament bewail'd his lord,
        Whom death had all untimely ta'en.

II.

    He lean'd him to an ancient aik,
        Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
    His locks were bleached white with time,
        His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears;
    And as he touch'd his trembling harp,
        And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
    The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,
        To echo bore the notes alang.

III.

    "Ye scattered birds that faintly sing,<...

Robert Burns

Verses To John Rankine.

    Ae day, as Death, that grusome carl,
    Was driving to the tither warl'
    A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
    And mony a guilt-bespotted lad;
    Black gowns of each denomination,
    And thieves of every rank and station,
    From him that wears the star and garter,
    To him that wintles in a halter:
    Asham'd himsel' to see the wretches,
    He mutters, glowrin' at the bitches,
    "By G--d, I'll not be seen behint them,
    Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them,
    Without, at least, ae honest man,
    To grace this d--d infernal clan."
    By Adamhill a glance he threw,
    "L--d G--d!" quoth he, "I have it now,
    There's just the man I want, i' faith!"
    And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath.

Robert Burns