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331. Epigram at Brownhill Inn

© Robert Burns

AT 1 Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer,
And plenty of bacon each day in the year;
We’ve a’ thing that’s nice, and mostly in season,
But why always Bacon—come, tell me a reason?

367. Song—When she cam ben she bobbed

© Robert Burns

O WHEN she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law,
O when she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law,
And when she cam’ ben, she kiss’d Cockpen,
And syne denied she did it at a’.

449. Song—The Flowery banks of Cree

© Robert Burns

HERE is the glen, and here the bower
All underneath the birchen shade;
The village-bell has told the hour,
O what can stay my lovely maid?

523. Song—The Cooper o’ Cuddy

© Robert Burns

Chorus—We’ll hide the Cooper behint the door,
Behint the door, behint the door,
We’ll hide the Cooper behint the door,
And cover him under a mawn, O.

124. Motto prefixed to the Author’s first Publication

© Robert Burns

THE SIMPLE Bard, unbroke by rules of art,
He pours the wild effusions of the heart;
And if inspir’d ’tis Nature’s pow’rs inspire;
Her’s all the melting thrill, and her’s the kindling fire.

462. Song—The Bannocks o’ Bear Meal

© Robert Burns

Chorus—Bannocks o’ bear meal,
Bannocks o’ barley,
Here’s to the Highlandman’s
Bannocks o’ barley!

378. Song—Bessy and her Spinnin Wheel

© Robert Burns

O LEEZE me on my spinnin’ wheel,
And leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me biel and warm at e’en;

246. Song—Robin Shure in Hairst

© Robert Burns

HIS face with smile eternal drest,
Just like the Landlord’s to his Guest’s,
High as they hang with creaking din,
To index out the Country Inn.

160. Epigram at RoslinInn

© Robert Burns

MY blessings on ye, honest wife!
I ne’er was here before;
Ye’ve wealth o’ gear for spoon and knife—
Heart could not wish for more.

453. Epitaph for Mr. Walter Riddell

© Robert Burns

SIC a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev’n d—d him when laid in his grave;
“In his flesh there’s a famine,” a starved reptile cries,
“And his heart is rank poison!” another replies.

436. Song—Deluded swain, the pleasure

© Robert Burns

DELUDED swain, the pleasure
The fickle Fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure,
Thy hopes will soon deceive thee:

402. Song—Meg o’ the Mill (Another Version)

© Robert Burns

O KEN ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten,
An’ ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten?
A braw new naig wi’ the tail o’ a rottan,
And that’s what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten.

312. Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of Monboddo

© Robert Burns

LIFE ne’er exulted in so rich a prize,
As Burnet, lovely from her native skies;
Nor envious death so triumph’d in a blow,
As that which laid th’ accomplish’d Burnet low.

120. Epitaph for Gavin Hamilton, Esq.

© Robert Burns

THE POOR man weeps—here Gavin sleeps,
Whom canting wretches blam’d;
But with such as he, where’er he be,
May I be sav’d or d—d!

456. Epitaph on Captain Lascelles

© Robert Burns

WHEN Lascelles thought fit from this world to depart,
Some friends warmly thought of embalming his heart;
A bystander whispers—“Pray don’t make so much o’t,
The subject is poison, no reptile will touch it.”

429. Song—Come let me take thee to my breast

© Robert Burns

COME, let me take thee to my breast,
And pledge we ne’er shall sunder;
And I shall spurn as vilest dust
The world’s wealth and grandeur:

329. Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig

© Robert Burns

AS on the banks o’ wandering Nith,
Ae smiling simmer morn I stray’d,
And traced its bonie howes and haughs,
Where linties sang and lammies play’d,

515. Song—O let me in this ae night

© Robert Burns

O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an’ fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.

343. Address to the shade of Thomson

© Robert Burns

WHILE virgin Spring by Eden’s flood,
Unfolds her tender mantle green,
Or pranks the sod in frolic mood,
Or tunes Eolian strains between.

452. Epigram pinned to Mrs. Riddell’s carriage

© Robert Burns

IF you rattle along like your Mistress’ tongue,
Your speed will outrival the dart;
But a fly for your load, you’ll break down on the road,
If your stuff be as rotten’s her heart.

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