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Poems begining by &

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121. Epitaph on “Wee Johnnie”

© Robert Burns

WHOE’ER thou art, O reader, know
That Death has murder’d Johnie;
An’ here his body lies fu’ low;
For saul he ne’er had ony.

510. Song—Fragment—Wee Willie Gray

© Robert Burns

WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,

361. Song—Behold the Hour, the Boat, arrive

© Robert Burns

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?

543. Song—News, lassies, news

© Robert Burns

THERE’S news, lassies, news,
Gude news I’ve to tell!
There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads
Come to our town to sell.

21. Fickle Fortune: A Fragment

© Robert Burns

THOUGH fickle Fortune has deceived me,
She pormis’d fair and perform’d but ill;
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav’d me,
Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.

521. Inscription for an Alter of Independence

© Robert Burns

THOU of an independent mind,
With soul resolv’d, with soul resign’d;
Prepar’d Power’s proudest frown to brave,
Who wilt not be, nor have a slave;

345. Song—Frae the friends and land I love

© Robert Burns

FRAE the friends and land I love,
Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite;
Frae my best belov’d I rove,
Never mair to taste delight:

230. The Fête Champêtre

© Robert Burns

Note 1. James Boswell, the biographer of Dr. Johnson. [back]
Note 2. Sir John Whitefoord, then residing at Cloncaird or “Glencaird.” [back]
Note 3. William Cunninghame, Esq., of Annbank and Enterkin. [back]

180. Written by Somebody on the Window of an Inn at Stirling

© Robert Burns

HERE Stuarts once in glory reigned,
And laws for Scotland’s weal ordained;
But now unroof’d their palace stands,
Their sceptre’s sway’d by other hands;

368. Song—Scroggam, my dearie

© Robert Burns

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.

166. Epitaph for William Nicol, High School, Edinburgh

© Robert Burns

YE maggots, feed on Nicol’s brain,
For few sic feasts you’ve gotten;
And fix your claws in Nicol’s heart,
For deil a bit o’t’s rotten.

333. Song—Lovely Polly Stewart

© Robert Burns

Chorus.—O lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart,
There’s ne’er a flower that blooms in May,
That’s half so fair as thou art!

65. Song—Rantin, Rovin Robin

© Robert Burns

THERE 1 was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o’ whatna style,
I doubt it’s hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi’ Robin.

263. Song—The Gardener wi’ his Paidle

© Robert Burns

WHEN rosy May comes in wi’ flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,
Then busy, busy are his hours,
The Gard’ner wi’ his paidle.

437. Song—Thine am I, my faithful Fair

© Robert Burns

THINE am I, my faithful Fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Ev’ry pulse along my veins,
Ev’ry roving fancy.

303. Song—The Gowden Locks of Anna

© Robert Burns

YESTREEN I had a pint o’ wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine
The gowden locks of Anna.

354. Epigram—The Toad-eater

© Robert Burns

OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen,
Yet an insect’s an insect at most,
Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen!

351. Second Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry

© Robert Burns

Critics—appall’d, I venture on the name;
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame:
Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes;
He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose:

129. The Calf

© Robert Burns

RIGHT, sir! your text I’ll prove it true,
Tho’ heretics may laugh;
For instance, there’s yourself just now,
God knows, an unco calf.

545. Song—Mally’s meek, Mally’s sweet

© Robert Burns

Chorus—Mally’s meek, Mally’s sweet,
Mally’s modest and discreet;
Mally’s rare, Mally’s fair,
Mally’s every way complete.

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