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

Auld Rob Morris (song)

THERE’S Auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
He’s the King o’ gude fellows, and wale o’ auld men;
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonie lass, his dautie and mine.

She’s fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
She’s sweet as the ev’ning amang the new hay;
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my e’e.

But oh! she’s an Heiress, auld Robin’s a laird,
And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

O had she but been of a lower degree,
I then might hae hop’d she wad smil’d upon me!
O how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction nae words can express.

Robert Burns

 

 

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