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……

Mark Yonder Pomp Of Costly Fashion

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar'd with real passion, Poor is all that princely pride. Markyonder, &c. (four lines repeated). What are the showy treasures, What are the noisy pleasures? The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art: The polish'd jewels' blaze May draw the wond'ring gaze;

News, Lassies, News

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:45+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

There's news, lassies, news, Gude news I've to tell! There's a boatfu' o'lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus-The wean wants a cradle, And the cradle wants a cod: I'll no gang to my bed, Until I get a nod. Father, quo'she, Mither, quo she, Do what you can, I'll nogangto my bed, Until

O Aye My Wife She Dang Me

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:45+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Chorus-O aye my wife she dangme, An' aftmy wife she bang'd me, If ye giea woman a' her will, Gudefaith! she'll soon o'er-gang ye. On peace an'rest my mindwas bent, And, fool I was! I married; Butnever honest man's intent Sane cursedly miscarried. O aye my wife, &c. Some sairiecomfort at the last, When a'thirdays

O Bonie Was Yon Rosy Brier

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:48+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O bonie was yon rosy brier, That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; And bonieshe, and ah, how dear! It shaded fraethe e'enin sun. Yonrosebuds in the morning dew, How pure, amangthe leaves saegreen; But purer was the lover's vow They witness'd in their shade yestreen. All in its rude and prickly bower, That

O Let Me In Thes Ae Night

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O Lassie, are ye sleepin yet, Orare ye waukin, I wadwit? For Love has bound me hand an' fit, And I would fainbe in, jo. Chorus-O let me in this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night; O let me in this aenight, I'll nocome back again, jo! O hear'st thou not the wind an'weet?

O Steer Her Up An’ Haud Her Gaun

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:49+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

O steer her up, an' haudher gaun, Her mither's at the mill, jo; An' gin she winna tak a man, E'en let her tak her will, jo. First shoreher wi'a gentle kiss, And ca'anither gill, jo; An' gin she tak the thing amiss, E'enlet her flyteher fill, jo. O steer her up, an' be nablate,

O That’s The Lassie O’ My Heart

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

O watye whathat lo'es me And has my heart a-keeping? O sweet is she that lo'es me, As dews o' summer weeping, In tears the rosebuds steeping! Chorus-O that's the lassie o' my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O she's the queen o' womankind, And ne'er a ane to peer her. If thou shalt meet

O Wat Ye Wha’s In Yon Town

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:51+00:001795, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Chorus-O wat ye wha'sin yon town, Ye see the e'enin sun upon, The dearest maid's in yon town, That e'ening sun is shining on. Now haply down yon gay green shaw, She wanders byyon spreading tree; How blest ye flowers that round her blaw, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e! O wat ye wha's,

Craigieburn Wood-2

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:42+00:001795, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn, And blythe awakes the morrow; But a'the pride o'Spring's return Can yield me nochtbut sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading trees, I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wightcan please, And Care his bosom wringing! Fain, fainwould I my griefs impart, Yet dare nafor your

The Tear-Drop

ed mccabe2018-11-12T18:28:33+00:001794, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; Lang, langhas Joy been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, And the sweet voice o'Pity ne'er sounds in my ear. Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sairhae I pruv'd; Butthis bruised heart

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