Poems List

Address To A Haggis

Address To A Haggis
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut ye up wi' ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they strech an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit!' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bluidy flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o 'fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware


That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!
277

A Red, Red Rose

A Red, Red Rose
Oh my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
Oh my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!
326

A Poets Welcome to His Love-Begotten Daughter

A Poets Welcome to His Love-Begotten Daughter
Thou's welcome, wean; mishanter fa' me,
If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mammie,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
Tyta or daddie.
Tho' now they ca' me fornicator,
An' tease my name in countra clatter,
The mair they talk, I'm kend the better,
E'en let them clash;
An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.
Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter,
Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho' your comin' I hae fought for,
Baith kirk and queir;
Yet, by my faith, ye're no unwrought for,
That I shall swear!
Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a' tint,
Tho' thou cam to the warl' asklent,
Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part's be in't
The better ha'f o't.
Tho' I should be the waur bestead,
Thou's be as braw and bienly clad,
And thy young years as nicely bred
Wi' education,
As onie brat o' wedlock's bed,
In a' thy station.
Wee image o' my bonie Betty,
As fatherly I kiss and daut thee,
As dear and near my heart I set thee
Wi' as gude will
As a' the priests had seen me get thee
That's out o' hell.
Lord grant that thou may aye inherit
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit,
An' thy poor, worthless daddy's spirit,
Without his failins,
'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it,
Than stockit mailens.
For if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee,
I'll never rue my trouble wi' thee -


The cost nor shame o't,
But be a loving father to thee,
And brag the name o't.
236

A Fond Kiss

A Fond Kiss
A fond kiss, and then we sever;
A farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Nothing could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov'd say kindly,
Had we never lov'd say blindly,
Never met--or never parted--
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee well, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee well, thou best and dearest!
Thine be like a joy and treasure,
Peace. enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
A fond kiss, and then we sever;
A farewell, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!
440

A Bottle And Friend

A Bottle And Friend
There's nane that's blest of human kind,
But the cheerful and the gay, man,
Fal, la, la, &c.
Here's a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o' care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man:
Believe me, happiness is shy,
And comes not aye when sought, man.
218

A Dream

A Dream
Guid-Mornin' to our Majesty!
May Heaven augment your blisses
On ev'ry new birth-day ye see,
A humble poet wishes.
My bardship here, at your Levee
On sic a day as this is,
Is sure an uncouth sight to see,
Amang thae birth-day dresses
Sae fine this day.
I see ye're complimented thrang,
By mony a lord an' lady;
"God save the King" 's a cuckoo sang
That's unco easy said aye:
The poets, too, a venal gang,
Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd an' ready,
Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang,
But aye unerring steady,
On sic a day.
For me! before a monarch's face
Ev'n there I winna flatter;
For neither pension, post, nor place,
Am I your humble debtor:
So, nae reflection on your Grace,
Your Kingship to bespatter;
There's mony waur been o' the race,
And aiblins ane been better
Than you this day.
'Tis very true, my sovereign King,
My skill may weel be doubted;
But facts are chiels that winna ding,
An' downa be disputed:
Your royal nest, beneath your wing,
Is e'en right reft and clouted,
And now the third part o' the string,
An' less, will gang aboot it
Than did ae day.^
Far be't frae me that I aspire
To blame your legislation,
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,
To rule this mighty nation:
But faith! I muckle doubt, my sire,
Ye've trusted ministration
To chaps wha in barn or byre
Wad better fill'd their station
Than courts yon day.
And now ye've gien auld Britain peace,
Her broken shins to plaister,


Your sair taxation does her fleece,
Till she has scarce a tester:
For me, thank God, my life's a lease,
Nae bargain wearin' faster,
Or, faith! I fear, that, wi' the geese,
I shortly boost to pasture
I' the craft some day.
I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt,
When taxes he enlarges,
(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get,
A name not envy spairges),
That he intends to pay your debt,
An' lessen a' your charges;
But, God-sake! let nae saving fit
Abridge your bonie barges
An'boats this day.
Adieu, my Liege; may freedom geck
Beneath your high protection;
An' may ye rax Corruption's neck,
And gie her for dissection!
But since I'm here, I'll no neglect,
In loyal, true affection,
To pay your Queen, wi' due respect,
May fealty an' subjection
This great birth-day.
Hail, Majesty most Excellent!
While nobles strive to please ye,
Will ye accept a compliment,
A simple poet gies ye?
Thae bonie bairntime, Heav'n has lent,
Still higher may they heeze ye
In bliss, till fate some day is sent
For ever to release ye
Frae care that day.
For you, young Potentate o'Wales,
I tell your highness fairly,
Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails,
I'm tauld ye're driving rarely;
But some day ye may gnaw your nails,
An' curse your folly sairly,
That e'er ye brak Diana's pales,
Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie
By night or day.
Yet aft a ragged cowt's been known,
To mak a noble aiver;
So, ye may doucely fill the throne,
For a'their clish-ma-claver:


There, him^ at Agincourt wha shone,
Few better were or braver:
And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,^
He was an unco shaver
For mony a day.
For you, right rev'rend Osnaburg,
Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter,
Altho' a ribbon at your lug
Wad been a dress completer:
As ye disown yon paughty dog,
That bears the keys of Peter,
Then swith! an' get a wife to hug,
Or trowth, ye'll stain the mitre
Some luckless day!
Young, royal Tarry-breeks, I learn,
Ye've lately come athwart her-
A glorious galley,^ stem and stern,
Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter;
But first hang out, that she'll discern,
Your hymeneal charter;
Then heave aboard your grapple airn,
An' large upon her quarter,
Come full that day.
Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a',
Ye royal lasses dainty,
Heav'n mak you guid as well as braw,
An' gie you lads a-plenty!
But sneer na British boys awa!
For kings are unco scant aye,
An' German gentles are but sma',
They're better just than want aye
On ony day.
Gad bless you a'! consider now,
Ye're unco muckle dautit;
But ere the course o' life be through,
It may be bitter sautit:
An' I hae seen their coggie fou,
That yet hae tarrow't at it.
But or the day was done, I trow,
The laggen they hae clautit
Fu' clean that day.
297

A Bard's Epitaph

A Bard's Epitaph
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.
Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,
O, pass not by!
But, with a frater-feeling strong,
Here, heave a sigh.
Is there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,
Wild as the wave,
Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,
Survey this grave.
The poor inhabitant below
Was quick to learn the wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame;
But thoughtless follies laid him low,
And stain'd his name!
Reader, attend! whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control
Is wisdom's root.
494

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Identification and basic context

Robert Burns, often hailed as the Bard of Ayrshire, is Scotland's national poet and a globally recognized figure in literature. He was born in Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland. His primary language of writing was Scots, though he also wrote in English and occasionally in a heavily anglicized Scots. Burns lived during a period of significant social and political change, influenced by the Enlightenment and the French Revolution, which fostered a spirit of reform and nationalism.

Childhood and education

Burns's childhood was shaped by rural poverty and hard agricultural labor. His father, William Burnes, was a tenant farmer who instilled in his children a strong sense of self-improvement and education. Robert received a basic formal education but was largely self-taught, devouring books on literature, philosophy, and history. Early influences included the Bible, Scottish ballads, and the works of Enlightenment thinkers like Robert Fergusson and Allan Ramsay, which kindled his interest in Scottish culture and language.

Literary trajectory

Burns's literary career began in earnest in his early twenties. He started writing poetry as a pastime, initially to court women and to express his feelings about life in rural Scotland. His first collection, *Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect*, published in 1786, was a resounding success, quickly bringing him fame and allowing him to move to Edinburgh. He continued to write and collect Scottish folk songs, contributing significantly to the preservation and popularization of Scottish musical heritage. He also worked as an exciseman (tax collector) to supplement his income, a profession that sometimes interfered with his writing but also exposed him to different aspects of Scottish life.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Burns's most famous works include "Auld Lang Syne," "Tam o' Shanter," "Scots Wha Hae," and "Ae Fond Kiss." His dominant themes are love (often unrequited or passionate), nature (the beauty of the Scottish landscape, the cycles of life), friendship, social inequality, and Scottish identity. His style is characterized by its directness, emotional sincerity, and vibrant use of Scots dialect, which he elevated to a literary language. He masterfully employed rhyme, rhythm, and folk song structures, often infused with a lyrical and sometimes satirical tone. His poetic voice is intimate, earthy, and often deeply patriotic or humanist. Burns's innovations lay in his ability to imbue traditional folk forms with profound personal and social commentary, making his work accessible and resonant across social classes.

Cultural and historical context

Burns was a product of the Scottish Enlightenment, a period of intellectual and cultural flourishing. His work reflected the social changes and national consciousness of late 18th-century Scotland. He was often critical of social injustices and the established church, aligning himself with reformist sentiments. His poetry captured the spirit of rural life and the burgeoning sense of Scottish identity, making him a folk hero during his lifetime and beyond. He was part of a generation of Scottish writers who sought to celebrate and preserve Scottish culture.

Personal life

Burns's personal life was tumultuous and marked by numerous romantic relationships, illegitimate children, and financial struggles. His passionate nature and strong convictions often led to conflicts with authority. His friendships, particularly with other poets and intellectuals, were important, though he also faced professional rivalries. His dedication to his family and his love for Scotland were central to his identity. His beliefs were complex, often questioning religious dogma while cherishing spiritual sentiments and humanistic values.

Recognition and reception

Burns achieved considerable fame during his lifetime, particularly after the publication of his first volume of poetry. He was celebrated in Edinburgh's literary circles, though his rural origins and sometimes unconventional lifestyle set him apart. Posthumously, his reputation grew, and he became an enduring symbol of Scottish culture. His songs and poems are now sung and recited worldwide, especially during Burns Night celebrations. His popular appeal has remained strong across centuries and social strata.

Influences and legacy

Burns was influenced by Scottish folk traditions, ballads, and poets like Allan Ramsay and Robert Fergusson. His legacy is immense; he is considered the definitive voice of Scottish poetry and song, shaping national identity and inspiring generations of Scottish writers and musicians. His works have been translated into numerous languages and continue to be performed and studied globally. His impact on the preservation and popularization of the Scots language is invaluable.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Burns's work is often interpreted through the lens of Scottish nationalism, romanticism, and social commentary. Critics debate the balance between his celebration of rural life and his critique of social structures. His use of dialect and his passionate voice invite analyses of authenticity, emotion, and cultural representation.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Despite his often romanticized image, Burns faced significant financial hardship throughout his life, working as an exciseman to support his family. He was also a Freemason and held a deep interest in Scottish history and folklore. His passionate personality and sharp wit were well-known, and he was not afraid to challenge the status quo through his writings.

Death and memory

Robert Burns died at the age of 37. His death was widely mourned, and his legacy was immediately cemented through the continued publication and performance of his works. Burns Night, celebrated annually on January 25th, ensures his enduring memory and cultural significance.