Songs and lyrics of Robert Burns

Contractions with ’s (is or was) and those with ’t (it) sometimes had a half-space, sometimes no space, in the original text. For consistency these contractions all have no spac...

Meanwhile, something may be said of the present selection, if only to explain it. The title _Songs and Lyrics_ has been chosen in preference to _Songs and Poems_, that the reade...

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark’d with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary’s sweet cot in...

O all ye pow’rs who rule above! O Thou, whose very self art love! Thou know’st my words sincere! The life-blood streaming thro’ my heart, Or my more dear immortal part, Is not m...

O Willie, come sell your fiddle, O sell your fiddle sae fine; O Willie, come sell your fiddle, And buy a pint o’ wine! If I should sell my fiddle, The warl’ would think I was ma...

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o’ the morn: They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, They mind me o’ Nannie—and Nannie’s awa.

‘O thou, whase lamentable face Appears to mourn my woefu’ case! My dying words attentive hear, An’ bear them to my Master dear. ‘Tell him, if e’er again he keep As muckle gear a...

But why o’ death begin a tale? Just now we’re living sound and hale; Then top and maintop crowd the sail, Heave Care o’er side! And large, before Enjoyment’s gale, Let’s tak the...

And here, by sweet endearing stealth, Shall meet the loving pair, Despising worlds with all their wealth As empty idle care: The flow’rs shall vie in all their charms The hour o...

‘In poverty’s low barren vale, Thick mists obscure involv’d me round; Though oft I turn’d the wistful eye, No ray of fame was to be found: Thou found’st me, like the morning sun...

By this the sun was out o’ sight, And darker gloamin brought the night; The bum-clock humm’d wi’ lazy drone, The kye stood rowtin’ i’ the loan; When up they gat and shook their...

When chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors neibors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An’ folk begin to tak the gate; While we sit bousing at the nappy, An’...

=Haggis=, “A special Scotch pudding made of sheep’s entrails, onions, and oatmeal, boiled in a sheep’s stomach. The _pièce de résistance_ at Burns’ Club Dinners, and an esteemed...

THERE WAS A LAD MARY MORISON THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH, NOVEMBER, 1785 GO FETCH TO ME A PINT O’ WINE MY LOVE IS LIKE A RED...