Epistle to John Goldie, in Kilmarnock by Robert Burns
O GOWDIE, terror o’ the whigs, Dread o’ blackcoats and rev’rend wigs! Sour Bigotry, on her last legs, Girns an’ looks back, Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues May seize you quick. Poor gapin’, glowrin’ Superstition! Wae’s me, she’s in a sad condition: Fye: bring Black Jock, 1 her state physician, To see her water; Alas, […]
Epistle to James Smith by Robert Burns
DEAR SMITH, the slee’st, pawkie thief, That e’er attempted stealth or rief! Ye surely hae some warlock-brief Owre human hearts; For ne’er a bosom yet was prief Against your arts. For me, I swear by sun an’ moon, An’ ev’ry star that blinks aboon, Ye’ve cost me twenty pair o’ shoon, Just gaun to see […]
Epistle to Hugh Parker by Robert Burns
IN this strange land, this uncouth clime, A land unknown to prose or rhyme; Where words ne’er cross’t the Muse’s heckles, Nor limpit in poetic shackles: A land that Prose did never view it, Except when drunk he stacher’t thro’ it; Here, ambush’d by the chimla cheek, Hid in an atmosphere of reek, I hear […]
Epistle to Dr. Blacklock by Robert Burns
ELLISLAND, 21st Oct., 1789.WOW, but your letter made me vauntie! And are ye hale, and weel and cantie? I ken’d it still, your wee bit jauntie Wad bring ye to: Lord send you aye as weel’s I want ye! And then ye’ll do. The ill-thief blaw the Heron south! And never drink be near his […]
Epigram on Jessy Staig’s recovery by Robert Burns
MAXWELL, if merit here you crave, That merit I deny; You save fair Jessie from the grave!— An Angel could not die! ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — the multilingual library […]
Epigram on Francis Grose the Antiquary by Robert Burns
THE DEVIL got notice that Grose was a-dying So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying; But when he approached where poor Francis lay moaning, And saw each bed-post with its burthen a-groaning, Astonish’d, confounded, cries Satan—“By G—, I’ll want him, ere I take such a damnable load!” ————— The End And that’s the […]
Epigram on Dr. Babington’s looks by Robert Burns
THAT there is a falsehood in his looks, I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave, And sure they do not lie. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster […]
Epigram on an Innkeeper (“The Marquis”) by Robert Burns
HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose titles were shamm’d, If ever he rise, it will be to be damn’d. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — the multilingual library of poetic works. […]
Epigram on a Swearing Coxcomb by Robert Burns
HERE cursing, swearing Burton lies, A buck, a beau, or “Dem my eyes!” Who in his life did little good, And his last words were “Dem my blood!” ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. […]
Epigram on a Suicide by Robert Burns
EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’ hell, Planted by Satan’s dibble; Poor silly wretch, he’s damned himsel’, To save the Lord the trouble. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — the […]
Epigram on a Country Laird (Cardoness) by Robert Burns
BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardonessp, With grateful, lifted eyes, Who taught that not the soul alone, But body too shall rise; For had He said “the soul alone From death I will deliver,” Alas, alas! O Cardoness, Then hadst thou lain for ever. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, […]
Epigram—Kirk and State Excisemen by Robert Burns
YE men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering ’Gainst poor Excisemen? Give the cause a hearing: What are your Landlord’s rent-rolls?—Taxing ledgers! What Premiers?—What ev’n Monarchs?—Mighty Gaugers! Nay, what are Priests? (those seeming godly wise-men,) What are they, pray, but Spiritual Excisemen! ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry […]
Epigram—Divine Service at Lamington by Robert Burns
AS cauld a wind as ever blew, A cauld kirk, an in’t but few: As cauld a minister’s e’er spak; Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. […]
Epigram—Commissary Goldie’s Brains by Robert Burns
LORD, to account who dares thee call, Or e’er dispute thy pleasure? Else why, within so thick a wall, Enclose so poor a treasure? ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate repository of world poetry. Poetry Monster — the […]
Epigram at RoslinInn by Robert Burns
MY blessings on ye, honest wife! I ne’er was here before; Ye’ve wealth o’ gear for spoon and knife— Heart could not wish for more. Heav’n keep you clear o’ sturt and strife, Till far ayont fourscore, And while I toddle on thro’ life, I’ll ne’er gae by your door! ————— The End And that’s […]
Epigram at Brownhill Inn by Robert Burns
AT 1 Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer, And plenty of bacon each day in the year; We’ve a’ thing that’s nice, and mostly in season, But why always Bacon—come, tell me a reason? Note Bacon was the name of a presumably intrusive host. The lines are said to have “afforded much amusement.”—Lang. [back] […]
Epigram Addressed to an Artist by Robert Burns
DEAR ———, I’ll gie ye some advice, You’ll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair, But try and paint the devil. To paint an Angel’s kittle wark, Wi’ Nick, there’s little danger: You’ll easy draw a lang-kent face, But no sae weel a stranger.—R. B. ————— The End And that’s the End […]
Elegy on Willie Nicol’s Mare by Robert Burns
PEG NICHOLSON was a good bay mare, As ever trod on airn; But now she’s floating down the Nith, And past the mouth o’ Cairn. Peg Nicholson was a good bay mare, An’ rode thro’ thick and thin; But now she’s floating down the Nith, And wanting even the skin. Peg Nicholson was a good […]
Elegy on the Year 1788 by Robert Burns
FOR lords or kings I dinna mourn, E’en let them die-for that they’re born: But oh! prodigious to reflec’! A Towmont, sirs, is gane to wreck! O Eighty-eight, in thy sma’ space, What dire events hae taken place! Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us! In what a pickle thou has left us! The Spanish […]
Elegy on the Death of Sir James Hunter Blair by Robert Burns
THE LAMP of day, with-ill presaging glare, Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the western wave; Th’ inconstant blast howl’d thro’ the dark’ning air, And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. Lone as I wander’d by each cliff and dell, Once the lov’d haunts of Scotia’s royal train; 1 Or mus’d where limpid streams, once hallow’d well, […]
Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux by Robert Burns
NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lair, He’ll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair; Cauld poverty, wi’ hungry stare, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care, E’er mair come near him. To tell the truth, they seldom fash’d him, Except the moment that they crush’d him; For sune as chance […]
Elegy on Stella by Robert Burns
STRAIT is the spot and green the sod From whence my sorrows flow; And soundly sleeps the ever dear Inhabitant below. Pardon my transport, gentle shade, While o’er the turf I bow; Thy earthy house is circumscrib’d, And solitary now. Not one poor stone to tell thy name, Or make thy virtues known: But what […]
Election Ballad for Westerha’ by Robert Burns
THE LADDIES by the banks o’ Nith Wad trust his Grace 1 wi a’, Jamie; But he’ll sair them, as he sair’d the King— Turn tail and rin awa’, Jamie. Chorus.—Up and waur them a’, Jamie, Up and waur them a’; The Johnstones hae the guidin o’t, Ye turncoat Whigs, awa’! The day he stude […]
Commemoration of Rodney’s Victory by Robert Burns
INSTEAD of a Song, boy’s, I’ll give you a Toast; Here’s to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!— That we lost, did I say?—nay, by Heav’n, that we found; For their fame it will last while the world goes round. The next in succession I’ll give you’s THE KING! Whoe’er would […]
Caledonia: A Ballad by Robert Burns
THERE was once a day, but old Time wasythen young, That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line, From some of your northern deities sprung, (Who knows not that brave Caledonia’s divine?) From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain, To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would: Her heav’nly relations there fixed […]
Burlesque Lament fo Wm. Creech’s Absence by Robert Burns
AULD chuckie Reekie’s 1 sair distrest, Down droops her ance weel burnish’d crest, Nae joy her bonie buskit nest Can yield ava, Her darling bird that she lo’es best— Willie’s awa! O Willie was a witty wight, And had o’ things an unco’ sleight, Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight, And trig an’ braw: But […]
Boat Song—Hey, Ca’ Thro’ by Robert Burns
UP wi’ the carls o’ Dysart, And the lads o’ Buckhaven, And the kimmers o’ Largo, And the lasses o’ Leven. Chorus.—Hey, ca’ thro’, ca’ thro’, For we hae muckle ado. Hey, ca’ thro’, ca’ thro’, For we hae muckle ado; We hae tales to tell, An’ we hae sangs to sing; We hae pennies […]
Birthday Ode for 31st December, 1787 by Robert Burns
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams, Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; An inmate in the casual shed, On transient pity’s bounty fed, Haunted by busy memory’s bitter tale! Beasts of the forest have their savage homes, But He, who should imperial purple wear, Owns not the lap of earth where rests his royal […]
Ballad on Mr. Heron’s Election—No. 4 by Robert Burns
WHA will buy my troggin, fine election ware, Broken trade o’ Broughton, a’ in high repair? Chorus.—Buy braw troggin frae the banks o’ Dee; Wha wants troggin let him come to me. There’s a noble Earl’s fame and high renown, For an auld sang—it’s thought the gudes were stown— Buy braw troggin, &c. Here’s the […]
Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne. And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp, And surely I’ll be mine! And we’ll tak a […]
Apology to Mr. Syme for not dining with him by Robert Burns
NO more of your guests, be they titled or not, And cookery the first in the nation; Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit, Is proof to all other temptation. ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by topic and subject. Poetry Monster — the ultimate […]
Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear by Robert Burns
AH, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye’ve born me: For sair contention I maun bear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne’er could lend on bill or band, That five per cent. might blest me; And borrowing, on the tither hand, The deil a ane wad trust me. Yet […]
Address to the Unco Guid by Robert Burns
O YE wha are sae guid yoursel’, Sae pious and sae holy, Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell Your neibours’ fauts and folly! Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, Supplied wi’ store o’ water; The heaped happer’s ebbing still, An’ still the clap plays clatter. Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel […]
Address to the Toothache by Robert Burns
MY curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang, An’ thro’ my lug gies mony a twang, Wi’ gnawing vengeance, Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang, Like racking engines! When fevers burn, or argues freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or colics squeezes, Our neibor’s sympathy can ease us, Wi’ pitying moan; But thee—thou hell […]
Address to the shade of Thomson by Robert Burns
WHILE virgin Spring by Eden’s flood, Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, Or tunes Eolian strains between. While Summer, with a matron grace, Retreats to Dryburgh’s cooling shade, Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace The progress of the spiky blade. While Autumn, benefactor kind, By Tweed erects his aged […]
Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns
FAIR fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o’a grace As lang’s my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o’need, […]
Adam Armour’s Prayer by Robert Burns
GUDE pity me, because I’m little! For though I am an elf o’ mettle, An’ can, like ony wabster’s shuttle, Jink there or here, Yet, scarce as lang’s a gude kail-whittle, I’m unco queer. An’ now Thou kens our waefu’ case; For Geordie’s jurr we’re in disgrace, Because we stang’d her through the place, An’ […]
A Vision by Robert Burns
AS I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa’flower scents the dewy air, Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. The winds were laid, the air was still, The stars they shot alang the sky; The fox was howling on the hill, And the distant echoing […]
A Tippling Ballad—When Princes and Prelates, etc. by Robert Burns
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, And comforts himself as he dow, as he dow, And comforts himself as he dow. The black-headed eagle, As keen as a beagle, He hunted o’er height and o’er howe, […]
A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve’s like the melodie That’s sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry: Till a’ the seas […]