The Gowden Locks Of Anna.

Tune - "Banks of Banna."



I.

    Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
        A place where body saw na';
    Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
        The gowden locks of Anna.
    The hungry Jew in wilderness
        Rejoicing o'er his manna,
    Was naething to my hinny bliss
        Upon the lips of Anna.

II.

    Ye monarchs tak the east and west,
        Frae Indus to Savannah!
    Gie me within my straining grasp
        The melting form of Anna.
    There I'll despise imperial charms,
        An empress or sultana,
    While dying raptures in her arms
        I give and take with Anna!

III.

    Awa, thou flaunting god o' day!
        Awa, thou pale Diana!
    Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray,
        When I'm to meet my Anna.
    Come, in thy raven plumage, night!
        Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a';
    And bring an angel pen to write
        My transports wi' my Anna!

IV.

    The kirk an' state may join and tell
        To do sic things I maunna:
    The kirk and state may gang to hell,
        And I'll gae to my Anna.
    She is the sunshine of my e'e,
        To live but her I canna:
    Had I on earth but wishes three,
        The first should be my Anna.

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

On Seeing The Beautiful Seat Of Lord Galloway.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

A Red, Red Rose.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Epitaph.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

O Wha Is She That Loves Me.

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.

Ca' The Yowes.

I.

    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them whare the heather growes,
    Ca' them whare the burnie rowes -
        My bonnie dearie!
    Hark the mavis' evening sang
    Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
    Then a faulding let us gang,
        My bonnie dearie.

II.

    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
        To the moon sae clearly.

III.

    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
    O'er the dewy bending flowers,
        Fairies dance so cheery.

IV.

    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
    Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
        My bo...

Robert Burns

The Lass Of Ballochmyle.

Tune - "Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."


I.

    'Twas even, the dewy fields were green,
        On every blade the pearls hang,
    The zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
        And bore its fragrant sweets alang:
    In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
        All nature listening seem'd the while,
    Except where greenwood echoes rang
        Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle!

II.

    With careless step I onward stray'd,
        My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy,
    When musing in a lonely glade,
        A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy;
    Her look was like the morning's eye,
        Her air like nature's vernal smile,
    Perfection whisper'd passing by,
        Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!

III.

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

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

By Allan Stream.

I.

    By Allan stream I chanced to rove
        While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi;
    The winds were whispering through the grove,
        The yellow corn was waving ready;
    I listened to a lover's sang,
        And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony:
    And aye the wild wood echoes rang
        O dearly do I lo'e thee, Annie!

II.

    O happy be the woodbine bower,
        Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
    Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
        The place and time I met my dearie!
    Her head upon my throbbing breast,
        She, sinking, said, "I'm thine for ever?"
    While mony a kiss the seal imprest,
        The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever.

III.

    The haunt o' Spring's the primrose brae,

Robert Burns

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