here's a health to them that's awa;
here's chieftain m'leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw;
here's friends on baith sides o' the firth,
and friends on baith sides o' the tweed;
and wha wad betray old albion's right,
may they never eat of her bread!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns a tippling ballad a tippling ballad
on the duke of brunswick's breaking up his camp, and the defeat of the austrians, by dumourier, november 1792.
when princes and prelates,
and hot-headed zealots,
a'europe had set in a low, a low,
the poor man lies down,
nor envies a crown,
andforts himself as he dow, as he dow,
andforts himself as he dow.
the black-headed eagle,
as keen as a beagle,
he hunted o'er height and o'er howe,
in the braes o' gemappe,
he fell in a trap,
e'en let hime out as he dow, dow, dow,
e'en let hime out as he dow.
but truce withmotions,
and new-fangled notions,
a bumper, i trust you'll allow;
here's george our good king,
and charlotte his queen,
and lang may they ring as they dow, dow, dow,
and lang may they ring as they dow.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns poortith cauld and restless love 1793
poortith cauld and restless love
tune—“cauld kail in aberdeen.”
o poortith cauld, and restless love,
ye wrack my peace between ye;
yet poortith a' i could forgive,
an 'twere na for my jeanie.
chorus—o why should fate sic pleasure have,
life's dearest bands untwining?
or why sae sweet a flower as love
depend on fortune's shining?
the warld's wealth, when i think on,
it's pride and a' the lave o't;
o fie on silly coward man,
that he should be the slave o't!
o why, c.
her e'en, sae bonie blue, betray
how she repays my passion;
but prudence is her o'erword aye,
she talks o' rank and fashion.
o why, c.
o wha can prudence think upon,
and sic a lassie by him?
o wha can prudence think upon,
and sae in love as i am?
o why, c.
how blest the simple cotter's fate!
he woos his artless dearie;
the silly bogles, wealth and state,
can never make him eerie,
o why, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns on politics on politics
in politics if thou would'st mix,
and mean thy fortunes be;
bear this in mind,—be deaf and blind,
let great folk hear and see.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns braw lads o galla water braw lads o' galla water
braw, braw lads on yarrow-braes,
they rove amang the blooming heather;
but yarrow braes, nor ettrick shaws
can match the lads o' galla water.
but there is ane, a secret ane,
aboon them a' i loe him better;
and i'll be his, and he'll be mine,
the bonie lad o' galla water.
altho' his daddie was nae laird,
and tho' i hae nae meikle tocher,
yet rich in kindest, truest love,
we'll tent our flocks by galla water.
it ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
that coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
the bands and bliss o' mutual love,
o that's the chiefest warld's treasure.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns sonnet written on the authors birthday, sonnet written on the author's birthday,
on hearing a thrush sing in his morning walk.
sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
sing on, sweet bird, i listen to thy strain,
see aged winter, 'mid his surly reign,
at thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.
so in lone poverty's dominion drear,
sits meek content with light, unanxious heart;
wees the rapid moments, bids them part,
nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.
i thank thee, author of this opening day!
thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—
what wealth could never give nor take away!
yete, thou child of poverty and care,
the mite high heav'n bestow'd, that mite with thee i'll share.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns wandering willie—first version wandering willie—first version
here awa, there awa, wandering willie,
now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
e to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
and tell me thou bring'st me my willie the same.
loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting;
it was na the blast brought the tear in my e'e:
now wee the simmer, and wee my willie,
the simmer to nature, my willie to me.
ye hurricanes rest in the cave o'your slumbers,
o how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
awaken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,
and waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
but if he's forgotten his faithfullest nannie,
o still flow between us, thou wide roaring main;
may i never see it, may i never trow it,
but, dying, believe that my willie's my ain!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns wandering willie—revised version wandering willie—revised version
here awa, there awa, wandering willie,
here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
e to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
tell me thou bring'st me my willie the same.
winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
fears for my willie brought tears in my e'e,
wee now the simmer, and wee, my willie,
the simmer to nature, my willie to me!
rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
how your dread howling a lover alarms!
wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,
and waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
but oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his nannie,
flow still between us, thou wide roaring main!
may i never see it, may i never trow it,
but, dying, believe that my willie's my ain!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns lord gregory lord gregory
o mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
and loud the tempest's roar;
a waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower,
lord gregory, ope thy door.
an exile frae her father's ha',
and a' for loving thee;
at least some pity on me shaw,
if love it may na be.
lord gregory, mind'st thou not the grove
by bonie irwine side,
where first i own'd that virgin love
i lang, lang had denied.
how aften didst thou pledge and vow
thou wad for aye be mine!
and my fond heart, itsel' sae true,
it ne'er mistrusted thine.
hard is thy heart, lord gregory,
and flinty is thy breast:
thou bolt of heaven that flashest by,
o, wilt thou bring me rest!
ye mustering thunders from above,
your willing victim see;
but spare and pardon my fause love,
his wrangs to heaven and me.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns open the door to me, oh open the door to me, oh
oh, open the door, some pity to shew,
oh, open the door to me, oh,
tho' thou hast been false, i'll ever prove true,
oh, open the door to me, oh.
cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
but caulder thy love for me, oh:
the frost that freezes the life at my heart,
is nought to my pains frae thee, oh.
the wan moon is setting beyond the white wave,
and time is setting with me, oh:
false friends, false love, farewell! for mair
i'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, oh.
she has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
she sees the pale corse on the plain, oh:
“my true love!” she cried, and sank down by his side,
never to rise again, oh.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns lovely young jessie lovely young jessie
true hearted was he, the sad swain o' the yarrow,