The Banks O' Doon. (Second Version.)

Tune - "Caledonian Hunt's Delight."


I.

    Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
        How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
        And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
    Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
        That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
    Thou minds me o' departed joys,
        Departed, never to return!

II.

    Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
        To see the rose and woodbine twine;
    And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
        And fondly sae did I o' mine.
    Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
        Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
    And my fause luver stole my rose,
        But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

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 Mr. Syme.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Written With A Pencil, Over The Chimney-Piece, In The Parlour Of The Inn At Kenmore, Taymouth.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Mother's Lament For The Death Of Her Son.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Adown Winding Nith.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

English

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The Banks Of Doon. (First Version.)

I.

    Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
        How can ye bloom sae fair;
    How can ye chant, ye little birds,
        And I sae fu' o' care!

II.

    Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
        That sings upon the bough;
    Thou minds me o' the happy days
        When my fause love was true.

III.

    Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,
        That sings beside thy mate;
    For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
        And wist na o' my fate.

IV.

    Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
        To see the woodbine twine,
    And ilka bird sang o' its love;
        And sae did I o' mine.

V.

    Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
        Frae aff its thorny tree:
    An...

Robert Burns

The Banks Of The Devon.

Tune. - "Bhannerach dhon na chri."


I.

    How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
        With green spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!
    But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
        Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
    Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
        In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew;
    And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
        That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.

II.

    O spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
        With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn;
    And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes
        The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!
    Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies,...

Robert Burns

The Braes O' Ballochmyle.

Tune - "The Braes o' Ballochmyle."


I.

    The Catrine woods were yellow seen,
        The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea,
    Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,
        But nature sicken'd on the e'e.
    Thro' faded groves Maria sang,
        Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while,
    And ay the wild-wood echoes rang,
        Fareweel the Braes o' Ballochmyle!

II.

    Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
        Again ye'll nourish fresh and fair;
    Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,
        Again ye'll charm the vocal air.
    But here, alas! for me nae mair
        Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
    Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,
        Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!

Robert Burns

The Banks Of Nith.

Tune - "Robie donna Gorach."


I.

    The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
        Where royal cities stately stand;
    But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
        Where Comyns ance had high command:
    When shall I see that honour'd land,
        That winding stream I love so dear!
    Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
        For ever, ever keep me here?

II.

    How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
        Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom!
    How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,
        Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
    Tho' wandering now, must be my doom,
        Far from thy bonnie banks and braes,
    May there my latest hours consume,
        Amang the friends of early days!

Robert Burns

The Highland Lassie.

Tune - "The deuks dang o'er my daddy!"


I.

    Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
    Shall ever be my muse's care:
    Their titles a' are empty show;
    Gie me my Highland lassie, O.
            Within the glen sae bushy, O,
            Aboon the plains sae rushy, O,
            I set me down wi' right good-will,
            To sing my Highland lassie, O.

II.

    Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
    Yon palace and yon gardens fine,
    The world then the love should know
    I bear my Highland lassie, O.

III.

    But fickle fortune frowns on me,
    And I maun cross the raging sea;
    But while my crimson currents flow,
    I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

IV.

    A...

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