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……

O Kenmure’s On And Awa, Willie

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:47+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie, O Kenmure's on and awa: An'Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord That ever Galloway saw. Success to Kenmure's band, Willie! Success to Kenmure's band! There's noa heart that fears a Whig, That rides bykenmure's hand. Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie! Here's Kenmure's health in wine! There's ne'er a coward

O May, Thy Morn

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:47+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O may, thy morn was ne'er so sweet As the mirknight o' December! For sparkling was the rosy wine, And private was the chamber: And dear was she I dare na name, But I will aye remember: And dear was she I dare na name, ButI will aye remember. And here's to them that, like

On Glenriddell’s Fox Breaking His Chain

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:47+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Thou, Liberty, thou art my theme; Not such as idle poets dream, Who trick thee up a heathen goddess That a fantastic cap and rod has; Such stale conceits are poor and silly; I paint thee out, a Highland filly, A sturdy, stubborn, handsome dapple, As sleek's a mouse, as round's anapple, That when thou

Out Over The Forth

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:57+00:001791, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Out over the Forth, I look to the North; But what is the north and its Highlands to me? The south nor the east gieease to my breast, The far foreign land, orthe wide rolling sea. ButI look to the west when I gaeto rest, That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be; For

Poem On Pastoral Poetry

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:47+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Hail, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd! In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd Fraecommon sense, or sunk enerv'd 'Mang heaps o' clavers: And och! o'er aftthy joes haestarv'd, 'Mid a'thy favours! Say, Lassie, why, thy train amang, While loud the trump's heroic clang, And sock or buskin skelpalang To death or marriage; Scarce anehas tried

Poem On Sensibility

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:48+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Sensibility, how charming, Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell; But distress, with horrors arming, Thou alas! hast known too well! Fairest flower, behold the lily Blooming in the sunny ray: Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, See it prostrate in the clay. Hear the wood lark charm the forest, Telling o'er his little joys; Butalas!

Second Epistle To Robert Graham, ESQ., Of Fintry

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:41+00:001791, Epistle, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg, About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest); Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wail? (It soothes poor Misery, hearkening to her tale) And hear him curse the light he first

Such A Parcel Of Rogues In A Nation

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:51+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Fareweel to a'our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory; Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name, Saefam'd in martial story. Now Sarkrins over Solway sands, An'Tweed rins to the ocean, To markwhere England's province stands- Such a parcel of rogues in a nation! What force or guile could not subdue, Thro' many warlike ages, Is wrought

Sweet Afton

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:52+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yonthorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I

The Banks O’ Doon

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:27:52+00:001791, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Sweet are the banks-the banks o' Doon, The spreading flowers are fair, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am fu'o' care. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luvewas true: Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That

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