O, were my love yon lilac fair Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring, And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing. How I wad mourn when it was torn

THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concer… I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne’er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae,

AULD chuckie Reekie’s 1 sair dis… Down droops her ance weel burnish’… Nae joy her bonie buskit nest Can yield ava, Her darling bird that she lo’es be…

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over.

Now spring has clad the grove in g… And strew’d the lea wi’ flowers; The furrow’d, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers: While ilka thing in nature join

YON wandering rill that marks the… And glances o’er the brae, Sir, Slides by a bower, where mony a fl… Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir; There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay,

ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,

THERE 1 was a lad was born in K… But whatna day o’ whatna style, I doubt it’s hardly worth the whil… To be sae nice wi’ Robin. Chor.—Robin was a rovin’ boy,

Ye flowery banks o’ bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…

Nae gentle dames, tho’ e’er sae fa… Shall ever be my muse’s care; Their titles a’ are empty show; Gie me my Highland Lassie, O. Within the glen sae bushy, O,

O Kenmure’s on and awa, Willie, O Kenmure’s on and awa: An’ Kenmure’s lord’s the bravest… That ever Galloway saw. Success to Kenmure’s band, Willie…

Thou lingering star, with less’nin… That lov’st to greet the early mor… Again thou usherast in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary, dear departed shade

HERE’S to thy health, my bonie l… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee. O dinna think, my pretty pink,

Inhuman man! curse on thy barb’rou… And blasted by thy murder—aiming e… May never pity soothe thee with a… Nor never pleasure glad thy cruel… Go live, poor wanderer of the wood…