The Cooper O' Cuddie.

Tune - "Bab at the bowster."


I.

    The cooper o' Cuddie cam' here awa,
    And ca'd the girrs out owre us a'
    And our gudewife has gotten a ca'
        That anger'd the silly gude-man, O.
    We'll hide the cooper behind the door;
    Behind the door, behind the door;
    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
        And cover him under a mawn, O.

II.

    He sought them out, he sought them in,
    Wi', deil hae her! and, deil hae him!
    But the body was sae doited and blin',
        He wist na where he was gaun, O.

III.

    They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn,
    'Till our gude-man has gotten the scorn;
    On ilka brow she's planted a horn,
        And swears that they shall stan', O.
    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
    Behind the door, behind the door;
    We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
        And cover him under a mawn, O.

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 Vision.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Our Thrissles Flourished Fresh And Fair.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Mark Yonder Pomp.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

When I Think On The Happy Days.

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 Weary Pund O' Tow.

Tune - "The weary Pund o' Tow."


I.

    The weary pund, the weary pund,
        The weary pund o' tow:
    I think my wife will end her life
        Before she spin her tow.
    I bought my wife a stane o' lint
        As gude as e'er did grow;
    And a' that she has made o' that,
        Is ae poor pund o' tow.

II.

    There sat a bottle in a bole,
        Beyont the ingle low,
    And ay she took the tither souk,
        To drouk the stowrie tow.

III.

    Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
        Gae spin your tap o' tow!
    She took the rock, and wi' a knock
        She brak it o'er my pow.

IV.

    At last her feet--I sang to see't,
        Gaed foremost o'er the kn...

Robert Burns

Duncan Gray.

I.

    Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
    On blythe yule night when we were fou,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
    Maggie coost her head fu' high,
    Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
    Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

II.

    Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
    Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
    Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
    Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
    Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn;
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

III.

    Time and chance are but a tide,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
    Slighted love is sair to bide,
        Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
...

Robert Burns

Meg O' The Mill.

Air - "Hey! bonnie lass, will you lie in a barrack?"



I.

    O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
    An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
    She has gotten a coof wi' a claute o' siller,
    And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.

II.

    The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy;
    A heart like a lord and a hue like a lady:
    The Laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl;
    She's left the guid-fellow and ta'en the churl.

III.

    The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving;
    The Laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
    A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle,
    A whip by her side and a bonnie side-saddle.

IV.

    O wae on the siller, it is sae...

Robert Burns

Last May A Braw Wooer.

Tune - "The Lothian Lassie."


I.

    Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
        And sair wi' his love he did deave me;
    I said there was naething I hated like men,
        The deuce gae wi'm, to believe, believe me,
        The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me!

II.

    He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een,
        And vow'd for my love, he was dying;
    I said he might die when he liked for Jean,
        The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
        The Lord forgie me for lying!

III.

    A weel-stocked mailen - himsel' for the laird -
        And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
    I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,
        But thought I may hae waur offers, waur offers,<...

Robert Burns

My Collier Laddie.

Tune - "The Collier Laddie."


I.

    Where live ye, my bonnie lass?
        An' tell me what they ca' ye;
    My name, she says, is Mistress Jean,
        And I follow the Collier Laddie.
    My name she says, is Mistress Jean,
        And I follow the Collier Laddie.

II.

    See you not yon hills and dales,
        The sun shines on sae brawlie!
    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
    They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.

III.

    Ye shall gang in gay attire,
        Weel buskit up sae gaudy;
    And ane to wait on every hand,
        Gin ye'll leave your Collier Laddie.
    And ane to wa...

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