my seven braw sons for jamie drew sword,
but now i greet round their green beds in the yerd;
it brak the sweet heart o' my faithful and dame,—
there'll never be peace till jamiees hame.
now life is a burden that bows me down,
sin' i tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
but till my last moments my words are the same,—
there'll never be peace till jamiees hame.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—out over the forth song—out over the forth
out over the forth, i look to the north;
but what is the north and its highlands to me?
the south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
the far foreign land, or the wide rolling sea.
but i look to the west when i gae to rest,
that happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
for far in the west lives he i loe best,
the man that is dear to my babie and me.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the banks o doon—first version the banks o' doon—first version
sweet are the banks—the banks o' doon,
the spreading flowers are fair,
and everything is blythe and glad,
but i am fu' o' care.
thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
that sings upon the bough;
thou minds me o' the happy days
when my fause luve was true:
thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
that sings beside thy mate;
for sae i sat, and sae i sang,
and wist na o' my fate.
aft hae i rov'd by bonie doon,
to see the woodbine twine;
and ilka birds sang o' its luve,
and sae did i o' mine:
wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
upon its thorny tree;
but my fause luver staw my rose
and left the thorn wi' me:
wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
upon a morn in june;
and sae i flourished on the morn,
and sae was pu'd or noon!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the banks o doon—second version the banks o' doon—second version
ye flowery banks o' bonie doon,
how can ye blume sae fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i sae fu' o care!
thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
that sings upon the bough!
thou minds me o' the happy days
when my fause luve was true.
thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
that sings beside thy mate;
for sae i sat, and sae i sang,
and wist na o' my fate.
aft hae i rov'd by bonie doon,
to see the woodbine twine;
and ilka bird sang o' its luve,
and sae did i o' mine.
wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
upon its thorny tree;
but my fause luver staw my rose,
and left the thorn wi' me.
wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
upon a morn in june;
and sae i flourished on the morn,
and sae was pu'd or noon.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the banks o doon—third version the banks o' doon—third version
ye banks and braes o' bonie doon,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i sae weary fu' o' care!
thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
that wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
thou minds me o' departed joys,
departed never to return.
aft hae i rov'd by bonie doon,
to see the rose and woodbine twine:
and ilka bird sang o' its luve,
and fondly sae did i o' mine;
wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose,
fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
and may fause luver staw my rose,
but ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns lament for james, earl of glencairn lament for james, earl of glencairn
the wind blew hollow frae the hills,
by fits the sun's departing beam
look'd on the fading yellow woods,
that wav'd o'er lugar's winding stream:
beneath a craigy steep, a bard,
laden with years and meikle pain,
in loud lament bewail'd his lord,
whom death had all untimely ta'en.
he lean'd him to an ancient aik,
whose trunk was mould'ring down with years;
his locks were bleached white with time,
his hoary cheek was wet wi' tears!
and as he touch'd his trembling harp,
and as he tun'd his doleful sang,
the winds, lamenting thro' their caves,
to echo bore the notes alang.
“ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing,
the reliques o' the vernal queir!
ye woods that shed on a' the winds
the honours of the aged year!
a few short months, and glad and gay,
again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;
but nocht in all-revolving time
can gladness bring again to me.
“i am a bending aged tree,
that long has stood the wind and rain;
but now hase a cruel blast,
and my last hald of earth is gane;
nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
nae simmer sun exalt my bloom;
but i maun lie before the storm,
and ithers plant them in my room.
“i've seen sae mony changefu' years,
on earth i am a stranger grown:
i wander in the ways of men,
alike unknowing, and unknown:
unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd,
i bear alane my lade o' care,
for silent, low, on beds of dust,
lie a'
hat would my sorrows share.
“and last, (the sum of a' my griefs!)
my noble master lies in clay;
the flow'r amang our barons bold,
his country's pride, his country's stay:
in weary being now i pine,
for a' the life of life is dead,
and hope has left may aged ken,
on forward wing for ever fled.
“awake thy last sad voice, my harp!
the voice of woe and wild despair!
awake, resound thy latest lay,
then sleep in silence evermair!
and thou, my last, best, only, friend,
that fillest an untimely tomb,
accept this tribute from the bard
thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.
“in poverty's low barren vale,
thick mists obscure involv'd me round;
though oft i turn'd the wistful eye,
nae ray of fame was to be found:
thou found'st me, like the morning sun
that melts the fogs in limpid air,
the friendless bard and rustic song
became alike thy fostering care.
“o! why has worth so short a date,
while villains ripen grey with time?
must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,
fall in bold manhood's hardy prim
why did i live to see that day—
a day to me so full of woe?
o! had i met the mortal shaft
that laid my benefactor low!
“the bridegroom may forget the bride
was made his wedded wife yestreen;
the monarch may forget the crown
that on his head an hour has been;
the mother may forget the child
that smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
but i'll remember thee, glencairn,
and a' that thou hast done for me!”
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns lines sent to sir john whiteford, bart lines sent to sir john whiteford, bart
with the lament on the death of the earl of glencairn
thou, who thy honour as thy god rever'st,
who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st,
to thee this votive offering i impart,
the tearful tribute of a broken heart.
the friend thou valued'st, i, the patron lov'd;
his worth, his honour, all the world approved:
we'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,
and tread the shadowy path to that dark world unknown.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns craigieburn d craigieburn wood
sweet closes the ev'ning on craigieburn wood,
and blythely awaukens the morrow;
but the pride o' the spring in the craigieburn wood
can yield to me nothing but sorrow.
chorus.—beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
and o to be lying beyond thee!