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

To a Mouse

WEE, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion,
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request;
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell—
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

Robert Burns

 

 

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