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 hankers, he frets and he cankers,
        I never can please him, do a' that I can;
    He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:
        O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!
    He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:
        O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!

IV.

    My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,
        I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
    I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
        And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
    I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
    And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.

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

First When Maggy Was My Care.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

On A Schoolmaster.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

Our Thrissles Flourished Fresh And Fair.

Robert Burns, Simple Poetry

My Peggy's Face.

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

Auld Rob Morris.

I.

    There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
    He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men;
    He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
    And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

II.

    She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
    She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
    As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
    And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

III.

    But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
    And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
    A wooer like me mamma hope to come speed;
    The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

IV.

    The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
    The night comes to me, but my...

Robert Burns

The Blude Red Rose At Yule May Blaw.

Tune - "To daunton me."


I.

    The blude red rose at Yule may blaw,
    The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,
    The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
    But an auld man shall never daunton me.
            To daunton me, and me so young,
            Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue.
            That is the thing you ne'er shall see;
            For an auld man shall never daunton me.

II.

    For a' his meal and a' his maut,
    For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
    For a' his gold and white monie,
    An auld man shall never daunton me.

III.

    His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
    His gear may buy him glens and knowes;
    But me he shall not buy nor fee,
    For an auld man shall neve...

Robert Burns

The Auld Farmer's - New-Year Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare Maggie, On Giving Her The Accustomed Ripp Of Corn To Hansel In The New Year

    A guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
    Hae, there's a rip to thy auld baggie:
    Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie,
        I've seen the day
    Thou could hae gaen like onie staggie
        Out-owre the lay.

    Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy,
    An' thy auld hide as white's a daisy,
    I've seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glaizie,
        A bonny gray:
    He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
        Ance in a day.

    Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
    A filly, buirdly, steeve, an' swank,
    An set weel down a shapely shank,
        As e'er tread yird;
    An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
        Like ony bird.

    It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,
    Sin' thou was my guid-fa...

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

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