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.

    Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
    I know her heart will never change,
    For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
    My faithful Highland lassie, O.

V.

    For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
    For her I'll trace a distant shore,
    That Indian wealth may lustre throw
    Around my Highland lassie, O.

VI.

    She has my heart, she has my hand,
    by sacred truth and honour's band!
    'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
    I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O.
            Farewell the glen sae bushy, O!
            Farewell the plain sae rushy, O!
            To other lands I now must go,
            To sing my Highland lassie, 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

My Heart Is A-Breaking, Dear Tittie.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

To John Taylor.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Nithsdale's Welcome Hame.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Epitaph On William Nicol.

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 Highland Laddie.

Tune - "If thou'lt play me fair play."



I.

    The bonniest lad that e'er I saw,
        Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
    Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw,
        Bonnie Highland laddie.
    On his head a bonnet blue,
        Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
    His royal heart was firm and true,
        Bonnie Highland laddie.

II.

    Trumpets sound, and cannons roar,
        Bonnie lassie; Lowland lassie;
    And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
        Bonnie Lowland lassie.
    Glory, honour, now invite,
        Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie,
    For freedom and my king to fight,
        Bonnie Lowland lassie.

III.

    The sun a backward course shall take,
        Bonnie laddie, H...

Robert Burns

Highland Mary.

Tune - "Katherine Ogie."


I.

    Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
        The castle o' Montgomery,
    Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
        Your waters never drumlie!
    There Simmer first unfauld her robes,
        And there the langest tarry;
    For there I took the last farewell
        O' my sweet Highland Mary.

II.

    How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
        How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
    As underneath their fragrant shade
        I clasp'd her to my bosom!
    The golden hours, on angel wings,
        Flew o'er me and my dearie;
    For dear to me, as light and life,
        Was my sweet Highland Mary!

III.

    Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,

Robert Burns

Yon Wild Mossy Mountains.

Tune - "Yon wild mossy mountains."


I.

    Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
    That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
    Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
    And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
        Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
        And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

II.

    Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
    To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
    For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
    Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
        For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
        Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

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

The Lovely Lass Of Inverness.

Tune - "Lass of Inverness."


I.

    The lovely lass o' Inverness,
        Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
    For e'en and morn, she cries, alas!
        And ay the saut tear blin's her e'e:
    Drumossie moor, Drumossie day
        A waefu' day it was to me!
    For there I lost my father dear,
        My father dear, and brethren three.

II.

    Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,
        Their graves are growing green to see:
    And by them lies the dearest lad
        That ever blest a woman's e'e!
    Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
        A bluidy man I trow thou be;
    For mony a heart thou host made sair,
        That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.

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