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Robert Burns

Epitaph on John Dove, Innkeeper

HERE lies Johnie Pigeon;
What was his religion?
Whae’er desires to ken,
To some other warl’
Maun follow the carl,
For here Johnie Pigeon had nane!
 
 
Strong ale was ablution,
Small beer persecution,
A dram was memento mori;
But a full-flowing bowl
Was the saving his soul,
And port was celestial glory.

#ScottishWriters

Other works by Robert Burns...
Lass of Cessnock Banks, The

A Song of Similes Tune —‘If he be a Butcher neat an… On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells… Could I describe her shape and me… Our lasses a’ she far excels,
Elegy on Stella

STRAIT is the spot and green th… From whence my sorrows flow; And soundly sleeps the ever dear Inhabitant below. Pardon my transport, gentle shade,
Banks O' Doon, The

Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…
Ny Nannie, O

Behind yon hills, where Lugar flo… 'Mang moors an’ mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, And I’ll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and sh…
A Prayer in the Prospect of Death

O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an ho… Perhaps I must appear! If I have wander’d in those paths
Epitaph on a Lap

IN wood and wild, ye warbling thr… Your heavy loss deplore; Now, half extinct your powers of s… Sweet Echo is no more. Ye jarring, screeching things arou…
Song’€”crowdie Ever Mair

O THAT I had ne’er been married… I wad never had nae care, Now I’ve gotten wife an’ weans, An’ they cry “Crowdie” evermair. Chorus.'€”Ance crowdie, twice cro…
Epitaph on John Busby, Esq., Tinwald Downs

HERE lies John Bushby’€”honest… Cheat him, Devil’€”if you can!
Epigram’€”the Raptures of Folly

THOU greybeard, old Wisdom! may… Give me with young Folly to live; I grant thee thy calm-blooded, tim… But Folly has raptures to give.
A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
Complimentary Epigram to Mrs. Riddell

“PRAISE Woman still,” his lords… “Deserv’d or not, no matter?” But thee, whom all my soul adores, Ev’n Flattery cannot flatter: Maria, all my thought and dream,
Epitaph on William Hood, Senior

HERE Souter Hood in death does… To hell if he’s gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep; He’ll haud it weel thegither.
Airlin’s Fine Braes

O I’ve walked o’er yon countries… Among Airlin’s braw lasses I’ve h… Comin’ hame in the mornins, fin I… Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin’s f… O the first thing I did, fin I ga…
A Man's a Man for A' That

Is there for honesty poverty That hings his head, an’ a’ that; The coward slave —we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
A Man’s a Man for A’ That

Is there for honesty poverty That hings his head, an’ a’ that; The coward slave - we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,



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