The Lad They Ca’Jumpin John

2018-11-12T18:27:05+00:001788, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Her daddie forbad, her minnieforbad Forbidden she wadna be: She wadnatrow't the browst she brew'd, Wadtaste saebitterlie. Chorus.-The lang lad they ca'Jumpin John Beguil'd the bonie lassie, The lang lad they ca'Jumpin John Beguil'd the bonie lassie. A cow and a cauf, a yoweand a hauf, And threttygude shillin's and three; A veragudetocher, a cotter-man's

The Henpecked Husband

2018-11-12T18:27:05+00:001788, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life, The crouching vassal to a tyrant wife! Who has nowill but byher high permission, Who has not sixpence butin her possession; Who must to he, his dear friend's secrets tell, Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. Were such the wife had fallen to my

The Fete Champetre

2018-11-12T18:27:13+00:001788, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

O Wha will to Saint Stephen's House, To do our errands there, man? O wha will to Saint Stephen's House O' th' merry lads of Ayr, man? Or will we send a man o' law? Or will we send a sodger? Or him wha led o'er Scotland a' The meikleUrsa-Major?^1 Come, will ye court a

The Fall Of The Leaf

2018-11-12T18:27:04+00:001788, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill, Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill; How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear! As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year. The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, And all the gay foppery of summer is flown: Apart let me wander, apart

M’Pherson’s Farewell

2018-11-12T18:27:07+00:001788, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch's destinie! M'Pherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.-Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaedhe; He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round, Below the gallows-tree. O, what is death but parting breath? On many a bloody plain I've dared his face, and in this

My Bonie Mary

2018-11-12T18:26:59+00:001788, Poem, Robert Burns Poems, Type, Year|

Go, fetch to me a pinto' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink before I go, A service to my bonie lassie. The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith; Fu'loud the wind blaws fraethe Ferry; The ship rides bythe Berwick-law, And I maunleave my bonie Mary. The trumpets sound,

My Hoggie

2018-11-12T18:27:07+00:001788, Robert Burns Poems, Song, Type, Year|

What will I do ginmy Hoggiedie? My joy, my pride, my Hoggie! My only beast, I had naemae, And vow but I was vogie! The lee-langnight we watch'd the fauld, Me and my faithfu' doggie; We heard nochtbut the roaring linn, Amangthe braes saescroggie. Butthe houletcry'd frau the castle wa', The blitterfraethe boggie; The todreply'd

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