and mony full as braw;
but, for a mst gracefu mein,
the like i never saw.
a bonie lass, i will confess,
is pleasant to the ee;
but, without some better qualities,
shes no a lass for me.
but nellys looks are blythe and sweet,
and what is best of a,
her reputation isplete,
and fair without a flaw.
she dresses aye sae clean and neat,
bothcent and genteel;
and then theres something in her gait
gars ony dress look weel.
a gaudy dress and gentle air
may slightly touch the heart;
but its innocence and msty
that polishes the dart.
tis this in nelly pleases me,
tis this enchants my soul;
for absolutely in my breast
she reigns without control.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns Song—o tibbie, i hae Seen the day song—o tibbie, i hae seen the day
tune—“invercaulds reel, or strathspey.”
choir.—o tibbie, i hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, i care na by.
yestreen i met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because im poor,
but fient a hair care i.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
whening hame on sunday last,
upon the road as i cam past,
ye snufft and gae your head a cast—
but trowth i caret na by.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
i doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
wheneer ye like to try.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but sorrow tak him thats sae mean,
altho his pouch o coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
altho a lad were eer sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
yell cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu dry.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but, if he hae the name o gear,
yell fasten to him like a brier,
tho hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but, tibbie, lass, tak my advice:
your daddies gear maks you sae nice;
theil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as i.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
there lives a lass bes yon park,
id rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi a your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns Song—i dreamd i lay song—i dreamd i lay
i dreamd i lay where flowers were springing
gaily in the sunny beam;
listning to the wild birds singing,
by a falling crystal stream:
straight the sky grew black and daring;
thro the woods the whirlwinds rave;
tress with aged arms were warring,
oer the swelling drumlie wave.
such was my lifesceitful morning,
such the pleasures i enjoyed:
but lang or noon, loud tempests storming
a my flowery blissstroyd.
tho fickle fortune hasceivd me—
she promisd fair, and performd but ill,
of mony a joy and hope bereavd me—
i bear a heart shall support me still.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns Song—in the character of A ruined Farmer song—in the character of a ruined farmer
tune—“go from my window, love, do.”
the sun he is sunk in the west,
all creatures retired to rest,
while here i sit, all sore beset,
with sorrow, grief, and woe:
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
the prosperous man is asleep,
nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;
but misery and i must watch
the surly tempest blow:
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
there lies thear partner of my breast;
her cares for a moment at rest:
must i see thee, my youthful pr,
thus brought so very low!
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
there lie my sweet babies in her arms;
no anxious fear their little hearts alarms;
but for their sake my heart does ache,
with many a bitter throe:
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
i once was by fortune carest:
i once could relieve the distrest:
now lifes poor support, hardly earnd
my fate will scarce bestow:
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
nofort, nofort i have!
how wee to me were the grave!
but then my wife and childrenar—
o, wither would they go!
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
o whither, o whither shall i turn!
all friendless, forsaken, forlorn!
for, in this world, rest or peace
i never more shall know!
and its o, fickle fortune, o!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns tragic Fragment tragic fragment
allvil as i am—a damned wretch,
a haned, stubborn, unrepenting villain,
still my heart melts at human wretchedness;
and with sincere but unavailing sighs
i view the helpless children of distress:
with tears indignant i behold the oppressor
rejoicing in the honest mansstruction,
whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime.—
evn you, ye hapless crew! i pity you;
ye, whom the seeming good think sin to pity;
ye poor,spised, abandoned vagabonds,
whom vice, as usual, has turnd oer to ruin.
oh! but for friends and interposing heaven,
i had been driven forth like you forlorn,
the mosttested, worthless wretch among you!
o injured god! thy goodness has endowd me
with talents passing most of mypeers,
which i in just proportion have abused—
as far surpassing othermon villains
as thou in natural parts has given me more.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns tarbolton lasses, the tarbolton lasses, the
if ye gae up to yon hill-tap,
yell there see bonie peggy;
she kens her father is a laird,
and she forsooths a leddy.
there sophy tight, a lassie bright,
bess a handsome fortune:
wha canna win her in a night,
has little art in courtin.
gae down by faile, and taste the ale,
and tak a look o mysie;
shes dour and din, ail within,
but aiblins she may please ye.
if she be shy, her sister try,
yell maybe fancy jenny;
if yell dispense wi want o sense—
she kens hersel shes bonie.
as ye gae up by yon hills,
speir in for bonie bessy;
shell gie ye a beck, and bid ye light,
and handsomely address ye.
theres few sae bonie, nane sae guid,
in a king ge dominion;
if ye should doubt the truth o this—
its bessys ain opinion!
ah, woe is me, my motherar
paraphrase of jeremiah, 15th chap., 10th verse.
ah, woe is me, my motherar!
a man of strife yeve born me:
for sair contention i maun bear;
they hate, revile, and scorn me.
i neer could lend on bill or band,
that five per cent. might blest me;
and borrowing, on the tither hand,
theil a ane wad trust me.
yet i, a coinnied wight,
by fortune quite discad;
ye see how i am, day and night,
by lad and lass blackguad!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns montgomeries peggy montgomerie's peggy
tune—“galla water.”
altho' my bed were in yon muir,
amang the heather, in my plaidie;
yet happy, happy would i be,
had i my dear montgomerie's peggy.
when o'er the hill beat surly storms,
and winter nights were dark and rainy;
i'd seek some dell, and in my arms
i'd shelter dear montgomerie's peggy.
were i a baron proud and high,
and horse and servants waiting ready;
then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me,—
the sharin't with montgomerie's peggy.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns ploughmans life, the ploughman's life, the
as i was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
i heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
and as he was singin', thir words he did say,—
there's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet may.
the lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
and mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast,