O THOU whom Poetry abhors, Whom Prose has turnèd out of door… Heard’st thou yon groan?—proceed n… ’Twas laurel’d Martial calling mu…

Sweet fa’s the eve on Craigieburn… And blythe awakens the morrow, But a’ the pride o’ spring’s retur… Can yield me nocht but sorrow. I see the flowers and spreading tr…

O May thy morn was ne’er sae swee… As the mirk night o’ December; For sparkling was the rosy wine, And private was the chamber: And dear was she, I dare na name,

NOW Robin 1 lies in his last lai… He’ll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae m… Cauld poverty, wi’ hungry stare, Nae mair shall fear him; Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care…

Altho’ he has left me for greed o’… I dinna envy him the gains he can… I rather wad bear a’ the lade o’ m… Than ever hae acted sae faithless…

REVERED defender of beauteous… Of Stuart, a name once respected; A name, which to love was the mark… But now 'tis despis’d and neglecte… Tho’ something like moisture congl…

At a relic aul’ croft upon the hil… Roon the neuk frae Sprottie’s mil… Tryin’ a’ his life tae jine the ki… Lived Geordie MacIntyre. He had a wife as sweir’s himsel’

Expect na, sir, in this narration, A fleechin, fleth’rin Dedication, To roose you up, an’ ca’ you guid, An’ sprung o’ great an’ noble blui… Because ye’re surnam’d like His G…

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddi… Willie was a wabster guid Could stown a clue wi onie body. He had a wife was dour and din,

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,

HOW wisdom and Folly meet, mix,… How Virtue and Vice blend their b… How Genius, th’ illustrious fathe… Confounds rule and law, reconciles… I sing: If these mortals, the cri…

Tune - “Laggan Burn.” Here’s to thy health, my bonie las… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee.

The gloomy night is gath’ring fast… Loud roars the wild inconstant bla… Yon murky cloud is filled with rai… I see it driving o’er the plain; The hunter now has left the moor,