Poems Ascribed to Robert Burns, the Ayrshire Bard, Not Contained in Any Edition of His Works Hitherto PublishedChapman & Lang, 1801 - 93 من الصفحات |
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addreffed auld Ayrshire Bard blaft bonny braw John Highlandman caudron cauld cauſe CHORUS Daddy de'il dear dinna e'en e'er EPIGRAM EPITAPH faid fame fang fenfe fhall fhould fillie fodger laddie fome fong fons foon foul frae ftill ftrain fweet gi'e gin ye grace Gude ha'e heart herds honeft JOHN SKINNER Juft juſt kifs Kilmarnock lafs Lal de daudle Lal de lal laſt lave o't leaſt lyre mair MAUCHLINE maun mither's mony mourn Mufe Muſe muſt nane ne'er night o'er owre the lave play'd pleaſe Poet praiſe prieſt RANKEN RECITATIVO ROBERT BURNS ſay Seffion ſenſe ſhall ſhe Sing ſtill ta'en tell thee thegither There's theſe thoſe thou thro verſe Waes warl weel Whan whatfore whiſtle owre ye hae ye ken ye'll ye're
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الصفحة 18 - With the ready trick and fable, Round we wander all the day ; And at night, in barn or stable, Hug our doxies on the hay. A fig, &c. Does the train-attended carriage Thro' the country lighter rove ? Does the sober bed of marriage Witness brighter scenes of love ? A fig, &c.
الصفحة 42 - Yet I am here a chosen sample, To show thy grace is great and ample ; I'm here a pillar in thy temple, Strong as a rock, A guide, a buckler, an example To a
الصفحة 41 - PRAYER 0 thou, wha in the Heavens dost dwell, Wha, as it pleases best thysel', Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell, A' for thy glory, And no for ony guid or ill They've done afore thee!
الصفحة 2 - I AM a son of Mars who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
الصفحة 17 - See the smoking bowl before us, Mark our jovial ragged ring! Round and round take up the chorus, And in raptures let us sing — Chorus A fig for those by law protected!
الصفحة 60 - WE came na here to view your warks In hopes to be mair wise, But only, lest we gang to hell, It may be nae surprise. But when we tirl'd at your door, Your porter dought na hear us ; Sae may, shou'd we to hell's yetts come, . Your billy Satan sair us ! LINES ON BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIES SO LITTLE AND MRS.
الصفحة 19 - Here's to budgets, bags, and wallets ! Here's to all the wandering train ! Here's our ragged brats and callets ! One and all cry out — Amen!
الصفحة 12 - I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd In many a noble squadron ; But vain they search'd, when off I march'd To go and clout the cauldron. I've ta'en the gold, &c. Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp, Wi' a' his noise and cap'rin', And tak a share wi...
الصفحة 16 - For a' that, an a that I am a Bard of no regard, . Wi' gentle folks an' a' that; But Homer-like, the glowrin' byke, Frae town to town I draw that. Chorus. For a' that, an' a
الصفحة 61 - And here's the grand fabric, our free Conftitution, . As built on the bafe of the great Revolution ; And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd, Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd ; And who wou'd to Liberty e'er prove difloyal, May his fon be a hangman, and he his firft trial.