A wee bit o' Burns

[Penny Tray]

Here Posey might wake her heav’n-taught lyre,
And look through Nature with creative fire;
Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil’d,
Misfortune’s lighten’d steps might wander wild;
And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds,
Fine balm to soothe her bitter rankling wounds;
Here heart-struck Grief might heav’nward stretch her scan,
And injur’d Worth forget and pardon man.

*VERSES WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL

[Penny Tray]

The little birdies blithely sing,
While o’er their heads the hazels hing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the birks of Aberfeldie!

*THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDIE

[Hughie]

This topic is evidence of how prolific he was. Yet he died at the age of only thirty-seven. Can you imagine if he'd have lived on and had still kept producing verse.

[brian f]

O, were some villains hangit high,
And ilka body had their ain,
Then I might see the joyfu’ sight,
My Highland Harry back again!

*HIGHLAND HARRY BACK AGAIN

A good wee catchy tune.

[bonzo]

This topic is evidence of how prolific he was. Yet he died at the age of only thirty-seven. Can you imagine if he'd have lived on and had still kept producing verse.

Out with all of the verse how many weans would there have been?

[Penny Tray]

Amang the trees, where humming bees
At buds and flowers were hinging,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing.
‘Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys and Reels –
She dirl’d them aff fu’ clearly,
When there cam a yell o’ foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalterrie.

*AMANG THE TREES

[Penny Tray]

Would, then, my noble master please
To grant my highest wishes,
He’ll shade my banks wi’ tow’ring trees
And bonie spreading bushes.
Delighted doubly then, my lord,
You’ll wander on my banks,
And listen monie a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.

*THE HUMBLE PETITION OF BRUAR WATER

[Penny Tray]

Streams that glide in Orient plains,
Never bound by Winter’s chains,
Glowing here on golden sands,
There immixed with foulest stains
From tyranny’s empurpled hands;
These, their richly gleaming waves,
I leave to tyrants and their slaves:
Give me the stream that sweetly laves
The banks by Castle Gordon.

*CASTLE GORDON

[Penny Tray]

When Death’s dark stream I ferry o’er
(A time that surely shall come),
In Heaven itself I’ll ask no more,
Than just a Highland welcome.

*A HIGHLAND WELCOME

[Penny Tray]

Her looks were like a flow’r in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn:
She tripped by the banks o’ Earn,
As light’s a bird upon a thorn.

*BLYTHE WAS SHE

[Penny Tray]

Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your wat’ry haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties?-
Common friend to you and me,
Nature’s gifts to all are free.

*ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOUL IN LOCH TURIT

[Penny Tray]

I love my Peggy’s angel air,
Her face so truly heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art:
But I adore my Peggy’s heart.

*MY PEGGY’S CHARMS