The Bonie Wee Thing
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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Coming Through The Rye
Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
Coming thro' the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
O, Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?
poem by Robert Burns
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Ploughman's Life, The
As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
And as he was singin', thir words he did say, -
There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet May.
The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
And mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast,
And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing,
And at night she'll return to her nest back again.
poem by Robert Burns
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The Ploughman's Life
As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
And as he was singin', thir words he did say, -
There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet May.
The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
And mount i' the air wi' the dew on her breast,
And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing,
And at night she'll return to her nest back again.
poem by Robert Burns
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Raging Fortune
O raging Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
O raging Fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow, O!
The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
And made my branches grow, O!
But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O!
But luckless Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O!
poem by Robert Burns (1782)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ah, Woe is Me, My Mother Dear
Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!
A man of strife ye’ve born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
They hate, revile, and scorn me.
I ne’er could lend on bill or band,
That five per cent. might blest me;
And borrowing, on the tither hand,
The deil a ane wad trust me.
Yet I, a coin-denièd wight,
By Fortune quite discarded;
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded!
poem by Robert Burns
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Cauld is the e’enin blast,
O’ Boreas o’er the pool,
An’ dawin’ it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.
Cauld blaws the e’enin blast,
When bitter bites the frost,
And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost:
Ne’er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o’er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.
poem by Robert Burns
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bonie Wee Thing, The
Chorus:- Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
[Chorus]
Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]
poem by Robert Burns
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The Cardin O't, The Spinnin O't
I coft a stane o' haslock woo',
To mak a wab to Johnie o't;
For Johnie is my only jo,
I loe him best of onie yet.
Chorus:
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin' o't.
For tho' his locks be lyart grey,
And tho' his brow be beld aboon,
Yet I hae seen him on a day,
The pride of a' the parishen.
Chorus:
poem by Robert Burns
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To A Kiss
Humid seal of soft affections,
Tend'rest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of young connections,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion's birth, and infants' play,
Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day.
Sorrowing joy, adieu's last action,
Ling'ring lips, -- no more to join!
What words can ever speak affection
Thrilling and sincere as thine!
poem by Robert Burns
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