The Rigs O' Barley.

Tune - "Corn rigs are bonnie."


I.

    It was upon a Lammas night,
        When corn rigs are bonnie,
    Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
        I held awa to Annie:
    The time flew by wi' tentless heed,
        'Till 'tween the late and early,
    Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed,
        To see me through the barley.

II.

    The sky was blue, the wind was still,
        The moon was shining clearly;
    I set her down wi' right good will,
        Amang the rigs o' barley:
    I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
        I lov'd her most sincerely;
    I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
        Amang the rigs o' barley.

III.

    I lock'd her in my fond embrace!
        Her heart was beating rarely:
    My blessings on that happy place.
        Amang the rigs o' barley!
    But by the moon and stars so bright.
        That shone that hour so clearly?
    She ay shall bless that happy night,
        Amang the rigs o' barley!

IV.

    I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear;
        I hae been merry drinkin';
    I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear;
        I hae been happy thinkin':
    But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
        Tho' three times doubled fairly,
    That happy night was worth them a',
        Amang the rigs o' barley.

Chorus.

    Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
        An' corn rigs are bonnie:
    I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
        Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

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

Lament For James, Earl Of Glencairn.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

O Lay Thy Loof In Mine, Lass.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

The Highland Laddie.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Fragment Inscribed To The Right Hon. C.J. Fox.

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.

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

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

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

The Tither Moon.

To a Highland Air.


I.

                The tither morn,
                When I forlorn,
    Aneath an oak sat moaning,
                I did na trow
                I'd see my Jo,
    Beside me, gain the gloaming.
                But he sae trig,
                Lap o'er the rig.
    And dawtingly did cheer me,
                When I, what reck,
                Did least expec',
    To see my lad so near me.

II.

                His bonnet he,
                A thought ajee,
    Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me;
                And I, I wat,
                Wi' fainness grat,
    While in his grips be press'd me.
                Deil tak' the war!
                I late and air
    Hae...

Robert Burns

The Ploughman.

Tune - "Up wi' the ploughman."


I.

    The ploughman he's a bonnie lad,
        His mind is ever true, jo,
    His garters knit below his knee,
        His bonnet it is blue, jo.
                Then up wi' him my ploughman lad,
                    And hey my merry ploughman!
                Of a' the trades that I do ken,
                    Commend me to the ploughman.

II.

    My ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
        He's aften wat and weary;
    Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
        And gae to bed, my dearie!

III.

    I will wash my ploughman's hose,
        And I will dress his o'erlay;
    I will mak my ploughman's bed,
        And cheer him late and early.

IV.

   ...

Robert Burns