i care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly;
but sae that thou'lt hae me for better for waur,
ande in thy coatie, sweet tibbie dunbar.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the captains lady the captain's lady
chorus.—o mount and go, mount and make you ready,
o mount and go, and be the captain's lady.
when the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle,
thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle:
when the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle,
thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle.
o mount and go, c.
when the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet,
to the shades we'll go, and in love enjoy it:
when the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet,
to the shades we'll go, and in love enjoy it.
o mount and go, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns john anderson, my jo john anderson, my jo
john anderson, my jo, john,
when we were first acquent;
your locks were like the raven,
your bonie brow was brent;
but now your brow is beld, john,
your locks are like the snaw;
but blessings on your frosty pow,
john anderson, my jo.
john anderson, my jo, john,
we clamb the hill thegither;
and mony a cantie day, john,
we've had wi' ane anither:
now we maun totter down, john,
and hand in hand we'll go,
and sleep thegither at the foot,
john anderson, my jo.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns my love, shes but a lassie yet my love, she's but a lassie yet
my love, she's but a lassie yet,
my love, she's but a lassie yet;
we'll let her stand a year or twa,
she'll no be half sae saucy yet;
i rue the day i sought her, o!
i rue the day i sought her, o!
wha gets her needs na say she's woo'd,
but he may say he's bought her, o.
e, draw a drap o' the best o't yet,
e, draw a drap o' the best o't yet,
gae seek for pleasure whare you will,
but here i never miss'd it yet,
we're a' dry wi' drinkin o't,
we're a' dry wi' drinkin o't;
the minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife;
he could na preach for thinkin o't.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—tam glen song—tam glen
my heart is a-breaking, dear tittie,
some counsel unto mee len',
to anger them a' is a pity,
but what will i do wi' tam glen?
i'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
in poortith i might mak a fen;
what care i in riches to wallow,
if i maunna marry tam glen!
there's lowrie the laird o' dumeller—
“gude day to you, brute!” hees ben:
he brags and he blaws o' his siller,
but when will he dance like tam glen!
my minnie does constantly deave me,
and bids me beware o' young men;
they flatter, she says, to deceive me,
but wha can think sae o' tam glen!
my daddie says, gin i'll forsake him,
he'd gie me gude hunder marks ten;
but, if it's ordain'd i maun take him,
o wha will i get but tam glen!
yestreen at the valentine's dealing,
my heart to my mou' gied a sten';
for thrice i drew ane without failing,
and thrice it was written “tam glen”!
the last halloween i was waukin
my droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken,
his likeness came up the house staukin,
and the very grey breeks o' tam glen!
e, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry;
i'll gie ye my bonie black hen,
gif ye will advise me to marry
the lad i lo'e dearly, tam glen.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns carle, an the king come carle, an the kinge
chorus.—carle, an the kinge,
carle, an the kinge,
thou shalt dance and i will sing,
carle, an the kinge.
an somebody weree again,
then somebody maun cross the main,
and every man shall hae his ain,
carle, an the kinge.
carle, an the kinge, c.
i trow we swapped for the worse,
we gae the boot and better horse;
and that we'll tell them at the cross,
carle, an the kinge.
carle, an the kinge, c.
coggie, an the kinge,
coggie, an the kinge,
i'se be fou, and thou'se be toom
coggie, an the kinge.
coggie, an the kinge, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the laddies dear sel the laddie's dear sel'
there's a youth in this city, it were a great pity
that he from our lassies should wander awa';
for he's bonie and braw, weel-favor'd witha',
an' his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.
his coat is the hue o' his bonnet sae blue,
his fecket is white as the new-driven snaw;
his hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
and his clear siller buckles, they dazzle us a'.
for beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin;
weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted an' braw;
but chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her,
the penny's the jewel that beautifies a'.
there's meg wi' the mailen that fain wad a haen him,
and susie, wha's daddie was laird o' the ha';
there's lang-tocher'd nancy maist fetters his fancy,
—but the laddie's dear sel', he loes dearest of a'.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns whistle oer the lave ot whistle o'er the lave o't
first when maggie was my care,
heav'n, i thought, was in her air,
now we're married—speir nae mair,
but whistle o'er the lave o't!
meg was meek, and meg was mild,
sweet and harmless as a child—
wiser men than me's beguil'd;
whistle o'er the lave o't!
how we live, my meg and me,
how we love, and how we gree,
i care na by how few may see—
whistle o'er the lave o't!
wha i wish were maggot's meat,
dish'd up in her winding-sheet,
i could write—but meg maun see't—
whistle o'er the lave o't!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns my eppie adair my eppie adair
chorus.—an' o my eppie, my jewel, my eppie,
wha wad na be happy wi' eppie adair?
by love, and by beauty, by law, and by duty,
i swear to be true to my eppie adair!
by love, and by beauty, by law, and by duty,
i swear to be true to my eppie adair!
and o my eppie, c.
a' pleasure exile me, dishonour defile me,
if e'er i beguile ye, my eppie adair!
a' pleasure exile me, dishonour defile me,
if e'er i beguile thee, my eppie adair!
and o my eppie, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns on the late captain groses peregrinations thro scotland on the late captain grose's peregrinations thro' scotland
collecting the antiquities of that kingdom
hear, land o' cakes, and brither scots,
frae maidenkirk to johnie groat's;—
if there's a hole in a' your coats,
i rede you tent it:
a chield's amang you takin notes,
and, faith, he'll prent it:
if in your bounds ye chance to light
upon a fine, fat fodgel wight,
o' stature short, but genius bright,
that's he, mark weel;
and wow! he has an unco sleight
o' cauk and keel.
by some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,
or kirk deserted by its riggin,
it's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in
some eldritch part,
wi' deils, they say, lord save's! colleaguin
at some black art.
ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer,
ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour,
and you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
warlocks and witches,
ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
ye midnight bitches.
it's tauld he was a sodger bred,