A Bard’s Epitaph

A Bottle And Friend (song)

A Dedication to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.

Address To A Haggis

Address to the Deil

Address to the Toothache

Address to the Unco Guid

A Dream

A Fiddler in the North

Ae Fond Kiss

Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear

A Man’s a Man for a’ that

Anna, thy Charms

A Poet’s Welcome to his Love-Begotten Daughter

A red, red Rose

Auld Lang Syne

Auld Rob Morris

A Winter Night

Bonie Dundee: A Fragment

Bonie Jean: A Ballad

Bonie Peggy Alison

Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes

Craigieburn Wood

Caledonia: A Ballad

Death and Dr. Hornbook

Despondency: An Ode

Duncan Gray

Epistle on J. Lapraik

Epitaph on Holy Willie

Farewell thou stream that winding flows

Farewell to the Banks of Ayr

Farewell to the Highlands

Green Grow the Rashes

Halloween

Handsome Nell

Highland Mary

Here’s to thy health, my bonie lass

Holy Willie’s Prayer

I do confess thou art sae fair

I dream’d I lay

John Anderson, My Jo

John Barleycorn: A Ballad

Kissing my Katie

Lady Mary Ann

Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots

Lines to an Old Sweetheart

Love in the Guise of Friendship

Lines on the Fall of Fyers

Mary Morison

Montgomerie’s Peggy

My Bonie Mary

My Highland Lassie, O

My Nanie, O!

Now Spring has clad the grove in green

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day

O were my love you lilac fair

O that’s the lassie o’ my heart

Rantin, Rovin Robin

Robert Bruce’s March to Bannockburn

Scotch Drink

Sweet Afton

Tam o’ Shanter: A Tale

The Auld Farmer’s New-Year-Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie

The Banks o’ Doon

The Battle of Sherramuir

The Birks of Aberfeldy

The Bonie Wee Thing

The Holy Fair

The First Six Verses of the Ninetieth Psalm versified

The Lass of Cessnock Banks

The lass that made the bed to me

To a Mouse

To a Louse

To a Mountain Daisy

The Wounded Hare

Tragic Fragment—All villain as I am

Up in the Morning Early

Winter: A Dirge

Yon Wild Mossy Mountains

Robert Burns Poetry And Songs

Address to the Deil

“O Prince! O chief of many throned Pow’rs
That led th’ embattl’d Seraphim to war—”

MILTON.

O THOU! whatever title suit thee—
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie,
Clos’d under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie,
To scaud poor wretches!

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An’ let poor damned bodies be;
I’m sure sma’ pleasure it can gie,
Ev’n to a deil,
To skelp an’ scaud poor dogs like me,
An’ hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow’r an’ great thy fame;
Far ken’d an’ noted is thy name;
An’ tho’ yon lowin’ heuch’s thy hame,
Thou travels far;
An’ faith! thou’s neither lag nor lame,
Nor blate, nor scaur.

Whiles, ranging like a roarin lion,
For prey, a’ holes and corners tryin;
Whiles, on the strong-wind’d tempest flyin,
Tirlin the kirks;
Whiles, in the human bosom pryin,
Unseen thou lurks.

I’ve heard my rev’rend graunie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or where auld ruin’d castles grey
Nod to the moon,
Ye fright the nightly wand’rer’s way,
Wi’ eldritch croon. When twilight did my graunie summon,
To say her pray’rs, douse, honest woman!
Aft’yont the dyke she’s heard you bummin,
Wi’ eerie drone;
Or, rustlin, thro’ the boortrees comin,
Wi’ heavy groan.

Ae dreary, windy, winter night,
The stars shot down wi’ sklentin light,
Wi’ you, mysel’ I gat a fright,
Ayont the lough;
Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight,
Wi’ wavin’ sough.

The cudgel in my nieve did shake,
Each brist’ld hair stood like a stake,
When wi’ an eldritch, stoor “quaick, quaick,”
Amang the springs,
Awa ye squatter’d like a drake,
On whistlin’ wings.

Let warlocks grim, an’ wither’d hags,
Tell how wi’ you, on ragweed nags,
They skim the muirs an’ dizzy crags,
Wi’ wicked speed;
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,
Owre howkit dead.

Thence countra wives, wi’ toil and pain,
May plunge an’ plunge the kirn in vain;
For oh! the yellow treasure’s ta’en
By witchin’ skill;
An’ dawtit, twal-pint hawkie’s gane
As yell’s the bill.

Thence mystic knots mak great abuse
On young guidmen, fond, keen an’ crouse,
When the best wark-lume i’ the house,
By cantrip wit,
Is instant made no worth a louse,
Just at the bit.

When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An’ float the jinglin’ icy boord,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord,
By your direction,
And ’nighted trav’llers are allur’d
To their destruction.

And aft your moss-traversin Spunkies
Decoy the wight that late an’ drunk is:
The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies
Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne’er mair to rise.

When masons’ mystic word an’ grip
In storms an’ tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
Or, strange to tell!
The youngest brither ye wad whip
Aff straught to hell.

Lang syne in Eden’s bonie yard,
When youthfu’ lovers first were pair’d,
An’ all the soul of love they shar’d,
The raptur’d hour,
Sweet on the fragrant flow’ry swaird,
In shady bower; *see note 1

Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!
Ye cam to Paradise incog,
An’ play’d on man a cursèd brogue,
(Black be your fa’!)
An’ gied the infant warld a shog,
’Maist rui’d a’.

D’ye mind that day when in a bizz
Wi’ reekit duds, an’ reestit gizz,
Ye did present your smoutie phiz
’Mang better folk,
An’ sklented on the man of Uzz
Your spitefu’ joke?

An’ how ye gat him i’ your thrall,
An’ brak him out o’ house an hal’,
While scabs and botches did him gall,
Wi’ bitter claw;
An’ lows’d his ill-tongu’d wicked scaul’,
Was warst ava?

But a’ your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an’ fechtin fierce,
Sin’ that day Michael 2 did you pierce,
Down to this time,
Wad ding a Lallan tounge, or Erse,
In prose or rhyme.

An’ now, auld Cloots, I ken ye’re thinkin,
A certain bardie’s rantin, drinkin,
Some luckless hour will send him linkin
To your black pit;
But faith! he’ll turn a corner jinkin,
An’ cheat you yet.

But fare-you-weel, auld Nickie-ben!
O wad ye tak a thought an’ men’!
Ye aiblins might-I dinna ken—
Stil hae a stake
I’m wae to think up’ yon den,
Ev’n for your sake!

Robert Burns

Note 1:
The verse originally ran:
“Lang syne, in Eden’s happy scene
When strappin Adam’s days were green,
And Eve was like my bonie Jean,
My dearest part,
A dancin, sweet, young handsome quean,
O’ guileless heart.”

 

 

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