Robert Burns Poems

Sylvander To Clarinda Poem Extempore Reply to Verses addressed to the Author by a Lady, under thesignature of Clarinda and entitled, On Burns saying he ‘had nothing elseto do.’ When dear Clarinda, matchless fair, First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! ’twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s […]

Braving Angry Winter’s Storms Song Tune— Neil Gow’s Lament for Abercairny. Where, braving angry winter’s storms, The lofty Ochils rise, Far in their shade my Peggy’s charms First blest my wondering eyes; As one who by some savage stream A lonely gem surveys, Astonish’d, doubly marks it beam With art’s most polish’d blaze. [Footnote 1: […]

To The Weavers Gin Ye Go Poem Robert Burns My heart was ance as blithe and free As simmer days were lang; But a bonie, westlin weaver lad Has gart me change my sang. Chorus.—To the weaver’s gin ye go, fair maids, To the weaver’s gin ye go; I rede you right, gang ne’er at […]

Here’s A Health To Them That’s Awa Robert Burns Poetry Here’s a health to them that’s awa, Here’s a health to them that’s awa; And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause, May never gude luck be their fa’! It’s gude to be merry and wise, It’s gude to be honest and true; It’s […]

Ronalds Of The Bennals, The Poetry In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men, And proper young lasses and a’, man; But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals, They carry the gree frae them a’, man. Their father’s laird, and weel he can spare’t, Braid money to tocher them a’, man; […]

Robert Burns Song O Leave Novels [Footnote 1: Burns never published this.] O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles, Ye’re safer at your spinning-wheel; Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel; Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, They make your youthful fancies reel; They heat your brains, and fire your veins, […]

Robert Burns – Lament Of Mary, Queen Of Scots, On The Approach Of Spring Poem Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o’ daisies white Out o’er the grassy lea; Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies; But nought can glad the weary wight […]

The Lass O’ Ballochmyle Robert Burns Song Tune— Ettrick Banks. ‘Twas even—the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang; The zephyr wanton’d round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang: In ev’ry glen the mavis sang, All nature list’ning seem’d the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amang the braes o’ […]

On Wm. Graham, Esq., Of Mossknowe Poetry Stop thief! dame Nature call’d to Death, As Willy drew his latest breath; How shall I make a fool again? My choicest model thou hast ta’en.

Up In The Morning Early Poem Robert Burns Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill’s I hear the blast— I’m sure it’s winter fairly. Chorus.—Up in the morning’s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a’ the hills are covered wi’ snaw, I’m […]