The Works of Robert Burns: Poems formerly published, with some additions, and a history of these poems, by Gilbert BurnsT. Cadell and W. Davies, 1806 |
From inside the book
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Page x
... Guid - mornin to your Majesty ! 92 Ha ! whare ye gaun , ye crowlin ferlie , Has auld K ********* seen the Deil ? • 227 • 117 Hear , Land o ' Cakes , and brither Scots , • 344 Here . Here sowter **** in death does sleep , I ( x )
... Guid - mornin to your Majesty ! 92 Ha ! whare ye gaun , ye crowlin ferlie , Has auld K ********* seen the Deil ? • 227 • 117 Hear , Land o ' Cakes , and brither Scots , • 344 Here . Here sowter **** in death does sleep , I ( x )
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... whare , thro ' the steeks , The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks . Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toiling , At baking , roasting , frying , boiling ; An ' tho ' the gentry first are stechin , Yet ev'n the ha ' folk fill their pechan Wi ...
... whare , thro ' the steeks , The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks . Frae morn to e'en it's nought but toiling , At baking , roasting , frying , boiling ; An ' tho ' the gentry first are stechin , Yet ev'n the ha ' folk fill their pechan Wi ...
Page 9
... whare I am , The gentles ye wad ne'er envy ' em . It's true , they need na starve or sweat , Thro ' winter's cauld , or simmer's heat ; They've nae sair wark to craze their banes , An ' fill auld age wi ' grips an ' granes : But human ...
... whare I am , The gentles ye wad ne'er envy ' em . It's true , they need na starve or sweat , Thro ' winter's cauld , or simmer's heat ; They've nae sair wark to craze their banes , An ' fill auld age wi ' grips an ' granes : But human ...
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... my auld , respected Mither ! Tho ' whiles ye moistify your leather , Till whare ye sit , on craps o ' heather , Ye tine your dam ; Freedom and Whisky gang thegither ! Tak aff your dram ! THE THE HOLY FAIR . * A robe of seeming truth 27.
... my auld , respected Mither ! Tho ' whiles ye moistify your leather , Till whare ye sit , on craps o ' heather , Ye tine your dam ; Freedom and Whisky gang thegither ! Tak aff your dram ! THE THE HOLY FAIR . * A robe of seeming truth 27.
Page 42
... sawin ? ' * It seem'd to mak a kind o ' stan ' , But naething spak ; At length , says I , ' Friend , whare ye gaun , • Will ye go back ? " Y * This rencounter happened in seed - time , 1785 . It It spak right howe , My name is Death , 42.
... sawin ? ' * It seem'd to mak a kind o ' stan ' , But naething spak ; At length , says I , ' Friend , whare ye gaun , • Will ye go back ? " Y * This rencounter happened in seed - time , 1785 . It It spak right howe , My name is Death , 42.
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Common terms and phrases
aerial band aith amang ance auld baith bard Beneath blate blest bonnie braw BRIG brunstane cauld Charlie Fox countra dear deil e'en e'er Ev'n ev'ry fair fate fear flow'rs fortune's frae gaun gien gies grace guid Halloween hame haud hear heart Heav'n honest humble ither John Barleycorn Kilmarnock lasses Mailie maist maun monie mourn muckle muse mutchkin Nae mair Nature's ne'er neebor never night noble o'er out-owre owre owre the sea pleugh poor pow'r pride rhyme roar round rustic Samson's dead sark Scotia's Scotland sing skelpin soul stane sugh sweet ta'en tear tell thee thegither There's thou thro unco weary weel Whare Whistle Whyles winds winna wretch Ye'll ye're ΧΙ
Popular passages
Page 178 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha -Bible, ance his father's pride : His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship GOD !
Page 186 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Page 333 - And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz out wi...
Page 203 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering Worth is...
Page 201 - WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonie Lark, companion meet ! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Page 327 - Tam had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
Page 202 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Page 180 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing' That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Page 329 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro, ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the Devil!
Page 327 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure; Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,...