The Cardin' O'T.

Tune - "Salt-fish and dumplings."


I.

    I coft a stane o' haslock woo',
        To make a wat to Johnny o't;
    For Johnny is my only jo,
        I lo'e him best of ony yet.
                The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
                    The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
                When ilka ell cost me a groat,
                    The tailor staw the lynin o't.

II.

    For though his locks be lyart gray,
        And tho' his brow be beld aboon;
    Yet I hae seen him on a day,
        The pride of a' the parishen.
                The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
                    The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
                When ilka ell cost me a groat,
                    The tailor staw the lynin o't.

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

Jessy.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Lovely Polly Stewart.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Lass Of Ecclefechan.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On Robert Riddel.

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.

What Can A Young Lassie.

Tune - "What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man."


I.

    What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
        What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
        To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
    Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
        To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!

II.

    He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',
        He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang;
    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
        O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
    He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
        O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!

III.

    He hums and he ha...

Robert Burns

My Heart Was Ance.

Tune - "To the weavers gin ye go."


I.

    My heart was ance as blythe and free
        As simmer days were lang,
    But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad
        Has gart me change my sang.
            To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
                To the weavers gin ye go;
            I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
                To the weavers gin ye go.

II.

    My mither sent me to the town,
        To warp a plaiden wab;
    But the weary, weary warpin o't
        Has gart me sigh and sab.

III.

    A bonnie westlin weaver lad,
        Sat working at his loom;
    He took my heart as wi' a net,
        In every knot and thrum.

IV.

    I sat beside my warpin-whee...

Robert Burns

Country Lassie.

Tune - "The Country Lass."


I.

    In simmer, when the hay was mawn,
        And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
    While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
        And roses blaw in ilka bield;
    Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
        Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will;
    Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild
        O' guid advisement comes nae ill.

II.

    It's ye hae wooers mony ane,
        And, lassie, ye're but young ye ken;
    Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,
        A routhie butt, a routhie ben:
    There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
        Fu' is his burn, fu' is his byre;
    Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen,
        It's plenty beets the luver's fire.

III.

    For Johnie ...

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

The Lass Of Ecclefechan.

Tune - "Jacky Latin."


I.

    Gat ye me, O gat ye me,
        O gat ye me wi' naething?
    Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
        A mickle quarter basin.
    Bye attour, my gutcher has
        A hich house and a laigh ane,
    A' for bye, my bonnie sel',
        The toss of Ecclefechan.

II.

    O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
        O hand your tongue and jauner;
    I held the gate till you I met,
        Syne I began to wander:
    I tint my whistle and my sang,
        I tint my peace and pleasure:
    But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
        Wad airt me to my treasure.

Robert Burns

O, For Ane-And-Twenty, Tam!

Tune - "The Moudiewort."


Chorus.

    An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam,
        An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam,
    I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,
        An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

I.

    They snool me sair, and haud me down,
        And gar me look like bluntie, Tam!
    But three short years will soon wheel roun'
        And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.

II.

    A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
        Was left me by my auntie, Tam,
    At kith or kin I need na spier,
        An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

III.

    They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
        Tho' I mysel' hae plenty, Tam;
    But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof
        I'm thine at ane-and-twenty,...

Robert Burns