Welcome to our Robert Burns poems

Robert Bunrs Poems

Robert Burns poems are know the world over. As Scotland’s national bard his poetry and songs have been celebrated and argued about for over 200 years. He covered many subjects: love, politics, religion, nature and death amongst others. His gentle (and not so gentle) mocking ways took down pomposity and arrogance in extablished hierarchical institutions.

Initially feted by the Edinburgh literary elite his support for the principles of the French revolution saw him shunned and he returned to the west of Scotland where he died at a young age.

We hope you enjoy the Robert Burns poems here and delve into them from time to time. Human nature doesn’t change; the classics can still seem fresh to us today.

We encourage to explore these wonderful poems, particularly around his birthday on the 25th January but also all year round. Dinnae be a sleekit wee beastie wi’ his works……

Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:36+00:001794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Chorus-Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie? Well thou know'st my aching heart, And canst thou leave me thus, for pity? Is this thy plighted, fond regard, Thus cruelly to part, my Katie? Is this thy faithful swain's reward- Anaching, broken heart, my Katie! Canst thou leave me,

Charlie, He’s My Darling

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:27+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

'Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier. Chorus-An' Charlie, he's my darling, My darling, my darling, Charlie, he's my darling, The young Chevalier. As he was walking up the street, The city for to view, O there he spied a bonie lass The

Contented Wi’ Little And Cantie Wi’ Mair

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:36+00:001794, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Contented wi' little, and cantiewi' mair, Whene'er I forgatherwi' Sorrow and Care, I giethem a skelpas they're creeping alang, Wi' a cogo' gude swatsand anauldScottish sang. Chorus-Contented wi' little, &c. I whiles clawthe elbow o' troublesome thought; ButMan is a soger, and Life is a faught; My mirth and gude humour are coin in my

Epigram On A Country Laird

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:25+00:001794, Epigram, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardonessp, With grateful, lifted eyes, Who taught that not the soul alone, Butbodytoo shall rise; For had He said "the soul alone From death I will deliver," Alas, alas! O Cardoness, Then hadst thou lain for ever.

Epistle From Esopus To Maria

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:25+00:001794, Epistle, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells; Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, And deal from iron hands the spare repast; Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin, Blush at the curious stranger peeping in; Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar, Resolve to drink, nay, half, to

Lines Inscribed In A Lady’s Pocket Almanac

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:07+00:001793, Inscription, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live, To see the miscreants feel the pains they give; Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air, TillSlave and Despot be butthings that were.

Lines On The Commemoration Of Rodney’s Victory

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:11+00:001793, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Instead of a Song, boy's, I'll give you a Toast; Here's to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!- That we lost, did I say?-nay, byHeav'n, that we found; For their fame it will last while the world goes round. The next in succession I'll give you's the King! Whoe'er would betray

Logan Braes

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:19+00:001793, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride, And years sinsynehaeo'er us run, Like Logan to the simmersun: But now thy flowery banks appear Like drumlieWinter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maunface his faes, Far, far frae me and Logan braes. Again the merry month of May Has

Lord Gregory

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:12+00:001793, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O mirk, mirkis this midnight hour, And loud the tempest's roar; A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory, ope thy door. Anexile fraeher father's ha', And a'for loving thee; At least some pity on me shaw, If love it may nabe. Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove BybonieIrwine side, Where first I own'd

Lovely Young Jessie

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:12+00:001793, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr; But bythe sweet side o' the Nith's winding river, Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair: To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over; To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain,

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