ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
ae fareweeli alas, for ever!
deep in heart-wrung tears i'll pledge thee,
warring sighs and groans i'll wage thee.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns behold the hour, the boat, arrive behold the hour, the boat, arrive
behold the hour, the boat, arrive!
my dearest nancy, o fareweel!
severed frae thee, can i survive,
frae thee whom i hae lov'd sae weel?
endless and deep shall be my grief;
lnae ray offort shall i see,
but this most precious, dear belief,
that thou wilt still remember me!
alang the solitary shore
where flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
across the rolling, dashing roar,
i'll westward turn my wishful eye.
“happy thou indian grove,” i'll say,
“where now my nancy's path shall be!
while thro' your sweets she holds her way,
o tell me, does she muse on me?”
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns thou gloomy december thou gloomy december
ance mair i hail thee, thou gloomy december!
ance mair i hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
sad was the parting thou makes me remember—
parting wi' nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!
fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
but the dire feeling, o farewell for ever!
is anguish unmingled, and agony pure!
wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
till the last leaf o' the summer is flown;
such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
till my last hope and lastfort is gone.
still as i hail thee, thou gloomy december,
still shall i hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
for sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
parting wi' nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns my native land sae far awa my native land sae far awa
o sad and heavy, should i part,
but for her sake, sae far awa;
unknowing what my way may thwart,
my native land sae far awa.
thou that of a' things maker art,
that formed this fair sae far awa,
gie body strength, then i'll ne'er start
at this my way sae far awa.
how true is love to pure desert!
like mine for her sae far awa;
and nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
while, oh, she is sae far awa!
nane other love, nane other dart,
i feel but her's sae far awa;
but fairer never touch'd a heart
than her's, the fair, sae far awa.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns i do confess thou art sae fair 1792
i do confess thou art sae fair
alteration of an old poem.
i do confess thou art sae fair,
i was been o'er the lugs in luve,
had i na found the slightest prayer
that lips could speak thy heart could muve.
i do confess thee sweet, but find
thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
thy favours are the silly wind
that kisses ilka thing it meets.
see yonder rosebud, rich in dew,
amang its native briers sae coy;
how sune it tines its scent and hue,
when pu'd and worn amon toy.
sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile;
and sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
like onymon weed and vile.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns lines on fergusson, the poet lines on fergusson, the poet
ill-fated genius! heaven-taught fergusson!
what heart that feels and will not yield a tear,
to think life's sun did set e'er well begun
to shed its influence on thy bright career.
o why should truest worth and genius pine
beneath the iron grasp of want and woe,
while titled knaves and idiot—greatness shine
in all the splendour fortune can bestow?
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the weary pund o tow the weary pund o' tow
chorus.—the weary pund, the weary pund,
the weary pund o' tow;
i think my wife will end her life,
before she spin her tow.
i bought my wife a stane o' lint,
as gude as e'er did grow,
and a' that she has made o' that
is ae puir pund o' tow.
the weary pund, c.
there sat a bottle in a bole,
beyont the ingle low;
and aye she took the tither souk,
to drouk the stourie tow.
the weary pund, c.
&
h i, for shame, ye dirty dame,
gae spin your tap o' tow!
she took the rock, and wi' a knock,
she brak it o'er my pow.
the weary pund, c.
at last her feet—i sang to see't!
gaed foremost o'er the knowe,
and or i wad anither jad,
i'll wallop in a tow.
the weary pund, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns when she cam ben she bobbed when she cam' ben she bobbed
o when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law,
o when she cam' ben she bobbed fu' law,
and when she cam' ben, she kiss'd cockpen,
and syne denied she did it at a'.
and was na cockpen right saucy witha'?
and was na cockpen right saucy witha'?
in leaving the daughter of a lord,
and kissin' a collier lassie an' a'!
o never look down, my lassie, at a',
o never look down, my lassie, at a',
thy lips are as sweet, and thy figureplete,
as the finest dame in castle or ha'.
tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma',
tho' thou has nae silk, and holland sae sma',
thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handiwark,
and lady jean was never sae braw.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns scroggam, my dearie scroggam, my dearie
there was a wife wonn'd in cockpen, scroggam;
she brew'd gude ale for gentlemen;
sing auld cowl lay ye down by me,
scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
the gudewife's dochter fell in a fever, scroggam;
the priest o' the parish he fell in anither;
sing auld cowl lay ye down by me,
scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
they laid the twa i' the bed thegither, scroggam;
that the heat o' the tane might cool the tither;
sing auld cowl, lay ye down by me,
scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns my collier laddie my collier laddie
“whare live ye, my bonie lass?
and tell me what they ca' ye;”
“my name,” she says, “is mistress jean,
and i follow the collier laddie.”
“my name, she says, c.
“see you not yon hills and dales
the sun shines on sae brawlie;
they a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
gin ye'll leave your collier laddie.
“they a' are mine, c.
“ye shall gang in gay attire,
weel buskit up sae gaudy;
and ane to wait on every hand,
gin ye'll leave your collier laddie.”
“and ane to wait, c.
“tho' ye had a' the sun shines on,
and the earth conceals sae lowly,
i wad turn my back on you and it a',
and embrace my collier laddie.
“i wad turn my back, c.
“i can win my five pennies in a day,
an' spen't at night fu' brawlie:
and make my bed in the collier's neuk,
and lie down wi' my collier laddie.
“and make my bed, c.
“love for love is the bargain for me,
tho' the wee cot-house should haud me;
and the warld before me to win my bread,
and fair fa' my collier laddie!”
“and the warld before me, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns sic a wife as willie had sic a wife as willie had
willie wastle dwalt on tweed,
the spot they ca'd it linkumdoddie;
willie was a wabster gude,
could stown a clue wi' ony body:
he had a wife was dour and din,
o tinkler maidgie was her mither;
sic a wife as willie had,
i wad na gie a button for her!
she has an e'e, she has but ane,
the cat has twa the very colour;
five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,