A wee bit o' Burns
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
O, sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
But a’ the charms o’ the Indies
Can never equal thine.
*WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY
And the apple on the pine;
But a’ the charms o’ the Indies
Can never equal thine.
*WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
To be your bride I am too young,
To be your loun wad shame my kin,
So therefore pray young man begone,
For you never, never shall my favour win.
*AS I WENT OUT AE MORNING
To be your loun wad shame my kin,
So therefore pray young man begone,
For you never, never shall my favour win.
*AS I WENT OUT AE MORNING
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
I would not die like Socrates,
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church and State
Shall ne’er my mortal foes be;
But let me have bold Zimri’s fate,
Within the arms of Cozbi.
*AT THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES
For all the fuss of Plato;
Nor would I with Leonidas,
Nor yet would I with Cato:
The zealots of the Church and State
Shall ne’er my mortal foes be;
But let me have bold Zimri’s fate,
Within the arms of Cozbi.
*AT THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
While Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
*THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
*THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN
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- Mega Heid Poster
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
The hunter lo’es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer,
At noon the fisher takes the glen
Adown the burn to steer:
Gie me the hour o’ gloamin’ grey –
It makes my heart sae cheery,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie!
*THE LEA-RIG
To rouse the mountain deer,
At noon the fisher takes the glen
Adown the burn to steer:
Gie me the hour o’ gloamin’ grey –
It makes my heart sae cheery,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie!
*THE LEA-RIG
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest is gane;
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
*AULD ROB MORRIS
The night comes to me, but my rest is gane;
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
*AULD ROB MORRIS
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
It ne’er was wealth, it ne’er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace and pleasure;
The bands and bliss o’ mutual love,
O, that’s the chiefest warld’s treasure!
*BRAW LADS O’ GALLA WATER
That coft contentment, peace and pleasure;
The bands and bliss o’ mutual love,
O, that’s the chiefest warld’s treasure!
*BRAW LADS O’ GALLA WATER
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
Amang the bonie winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimpling, clear:
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
An’ shook his Carrick spear;
Some merry, friendly, country-folks
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, an’ pou their stocks,
An’ haud their Halloween
Fu’ blythe that night.
*HALLOWEEN
Where Doon rins, wimpling, clear:
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
An’ shook his Carrick spear;
Some merry, friendly, country-folks
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, an’ pou their stocks,
An’ haud their Halloween
Fu’ blythe that night.
*HALLOWEEN
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
When chill November’s surly blast
Made fields and forest bare,
One ev’ning, as I wandered forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
I spied a man, whose aged step
Seem’d weary, worn with care;
His face was furrow’d o’er with years,
And hoary was his hair.
*MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN – A DIRGE
Made fields and forest bare,
One ev’ning, as I wandered forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
I spied a man, whose aged step
Seem’d weary, worn with care;
His face was furrow’d o’er with years,
And hoary was his hair.
*MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN – A DIRGE
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
Ye hypocrites! are these your pranks?
To murder men, and give God thanks?
Desist, for shame! Proceed no further:
God won’t accept your thanks for Murther!
*THANKSGIVING FOR A NATIONAL VICTORY
To murder men, and give God thanks?
Desist, for shame! Proceed no further:
God won’t accept your thanks for Murther!
*THANKSGIVING FOR A NATIONAL VICTORY
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
Fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o’ lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
*YOUNG JESSIE
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o’ lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
*YOUNG JESSIE
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.
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Re: A wee bit o' Burns
Farewell, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza’s dwelling!
O Mem’ry, spare the cruel throes
Within my bosom swelling:
Condemn’d to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish,
To feel a fire in every vein,
Nor dare disclose my anguish!
*FAREWELL THOU STREAM
Around Eliza’s dwelling!
O Mem’ry, spare the cruel throes
Within my bosom swelling:
Condemn’d to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish,
To feel a fire in every vein,
Nor dare disclose my anguish!
*FAREWELL THOU STREAM
Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.