Holy Willie's Prayer

Holy Willie's prayer is a poem that was written about a certain Willie Fisher who was an elder in the Parish church of , in Ayrshire. Fisher was a hypocrite and himself a sinner who spied on people and reported them to the minister if he thought they were doing wrong. The poem is a satire based on Fisher's sickly self-righteousness. The phrase "Holy Willie" have become part of the for describing someone that is humourless and ultra religious.

Note: Burns was a God fearing man. This poem is not anti religion. It is stricly a condemnation of religious hypocrisy and self righteousness.

O Thou, that in the heavens does dwell, As it pleases best Thysel', Sends aen to Heaven an' ten to Hell, For Thy glory, And no for onie or ill They've done afore Thee!

I bless and praise Thy matchless might, When thousands Thou hast left in night, That I am here afore Thy sight, For gifts an' grace A burning and a shining light To a' this place.

What was I, or my generation, That I should get sic exaltation? I wha deserv'd most just damnation For broken laws, Six thousand years 'ere my creation, Thro' Adam's cause.

When from my mither's womb I fell, Thou might hae plung'd me deep in hell, To gnash my gums, and weep and wail, In burnin lakes, Where damned devils roar and yell, Chain'd to their stakes.

Yet I am here a chosen sample, To show thy grace is great and ample; I'm here a pillar o' Thy temple, Strong as a rock, A guide, a buckler, and example, To a' Thy flock.

O Lord, Thou kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear, An' singing here, an' dancin there, Wi' great and sma'; For I am keepit by Thy fear Free frae them a'.

But yet, O Lord! confess I must, At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust: An' sometimes, too, in worldly trust, Vile self gets in; But Thou remembers we are dust, Defil'd wi' sin.

O Lord! yestreen, Thou kens, wi' Meg Thy pardon I sincerely beg; O may't ne'er be a livin' plague To my dishonour, An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg Again upon her.

Besides, I farther maun avow, Wi' Leezie's lass, three times I trow - But Lord, that Friday I was fou, When I cam near her; Or else, Thou kens, Thy servant true Wad never steer her.

Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn, Lest he owre proud and high shou'd turn, That he's sae gifted: If sae, Thy han' maun e'en be borne, Until Thou lift it.

Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place, For here Thou has a chosen race! But God confound there stuborn face, An' blast their name, Wha brings Thy elders to disgrace An' open shame.

Lord, mind Gaw'n Hamilton's deserts; He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartes, Yet has sae mony takin arts, Wi' great an' sma', Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts He steals awa'.

And when we chasten'd him therefore, Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, And set the world in a roar O' laughing at us; Curse Thou his basket and his store, Kail an' potatoes.

Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r, Against that Presbyt'ry o' Ayr; Thy strong right hand, Lord mak it bare Upo' their heads; Lord visit them, an' dinna spare, For their misdeeds.

O Lord my God! that glib-tongu'd Aitken, My vera heart an' flesh are quakin, To think how we stood sweatin, shakin, An' pish'd wi' dread, While he, wi' hingin lip an' snakin, Held up his head.

Lord, in Thy day o' vengeance try him, Lord, visit them wha did employ him, And pass not in Thy mercy by them, Nor hear their pray'r, But for Thy people's sake destroy them, An' dinna spare.

But, Lord, remember me an' mine Wi' mercies temporal and divine, That I for grace an' gear may shine, Excell'd by nane, And a' the glory shall be Thine, Amen, Amen!

To A Mouse

On turning her up in her nest, with the plough, November, 1785

We again see how, in the words of Thomas Carlyl, the poet "rises to the high, stoops to the low, and is brother and playmate to all nature." This is, by readers gentle and readers simple, acknowledged to be one of the most perfect little gems that ever human genius produced. One of its couplets has passed into a proverb:- "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley."

Surely one of the finest poems written by Burns, containing some of the most famous and memorable lines ever written by a poet, yet, to this day not really understood by the mass of English-speaking poetry lovers, for no other reason than that the dialect causes it to be read as though in a foreign language. All readers of Burns know of the "Wee sleekit Thanks to George Wilkie cow'rin tim'rous beastie" but not many understand the for letting us have this sadness and despair contained within the lines of this explanation of this poem poem. What was the Bard saying when he was inspired by from his book, turning up a fieldmouse in her nest one day while out "Understanding Robert ploughing? - George Wilkie Burns".

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what panic's in thy breastie! The poet is doing his utmost Thou need na start awa sae hasty, to assure this terrified little Wi' bickering brattle! creature that he has no I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, intention of causing it any Wi' murd'ring pattle! harm. bickerin‘ brattle =scurry, run; laith = loath; pattle = a small spade for I'm truly sorry Man's dominion cleaning a plough Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, He then goes on to Which makes thee startle, apologise to the mouse for At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, the behaviour of mankind using beautiful prose which An' fellow-mortal! requires neither translation nor interpretation. Listen to what he is saying, and you will be well on your way to understand what made Burns such a greatly loved man. Note how he equates himself with the mouse in I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; life‘s great plan. What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: Here he tells the mouse that I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, he realizes its need to steal An' never miss't! the odd ear of corn, and he does not really mind. He‘ll get by with remainder and never miss it. daimen = occasional; icker = an ear of corn; thrave = twenty four Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! sheaves; lave = remainder It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, Dismay at the enormity of O' foggage green! the problems he has brought An' bleak December's winds ensuin, on the mouse causes him to Baith snell an' keen! reflect on what he has done - destroyed her home at a time when it is impossible to rebuild. There is no grass to build a new home and the December winds are cold Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, and sharp. Her preparations An' weary Winter comin fast, for winter are gone! Big = An' cozie here, beneath the blast, build; foggage = moss; Thou thought to dwell, baith = both Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. Where the mouse had thought that she was prepared for winter in her comfortable little nest in the That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, ground, now she is faced Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! with trying to survive in a Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, most unfriendly climate, But house or hald. with little or no hope in To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, sight. cosie = comfortable; An' cranreuch cauld! coulter; = iron cutter in front of a ploughshare

It seems probable that here the poet is really comparing But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, his own hard times with that In proving foresight may be vain: of the mouse – a life of The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, harsh struggle, with little or Gang aft agley, no reward at the end. monie An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, = many; thole = to endure; For promis'd joy! dribble = drizzle; cranreuch = hoar-frost; cauld = cold

How many times have Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! people glibly trotted out, The present only toucheth thee: ―The best laid schemes‖ But Och! I backward cast my e'e, without realising that they On prospects drear! were quoting from Burns? An' forward, tho' I canna see, The sadness, the despair, I guess an' fear! the insight contained within this verse are truly remarkable and deeply moving. no ‗thy lane = not alone; gan aft agley = often go awry

This final verse reveals the absolute despondency that Burns was feeling at this stage in his life. Not at all what one might expect from a young man of twenty-six, supposedly so popular with the lassies, and with his whole life ahead of him, but nevertheless expressing sentiments with which many of us today can easily relate.

To A Mouse. On turning her up in her nest with the plough, November 1785.

Robert Burns was a poet, but that was not what earned him his living. As with most artists of his time he had to have some means of earning his keep. In Burns' case he earned most of his money, sparse though this was, from farming. This is why he is also known as the "Ploughman Bard". It was while he was ploughing one of his fields that he disturbed a mouse's nest. It was his thoughts on what he had done that led to his poem, "To A Mouse", which contains one of his most often quoted lines from the poem. I am sure that you will recognize it, probably not from the Scottish words, but from the translation, lines 4 and 5 from verse 7.

Burns Original Standard English Translation

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, Small, sleek, cowering, timorous beast, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! O, what a panic is in your breast! Thou need na start awa sae hasty You need not start away so hasty Wi bickering brattle! With hurrying scamper! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, I would be loath to run and chase you, Wi' murdering pattle. With murdering plough-staff.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion And justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth born companion At me, thy poor, earth born companion An' fellow mortal! And fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! What then? Poor beast, you must live! A daimen icker in a thrave An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves 'S a sma' request; Is a small request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, I will get a blessing with what is left, An' never miss't. And never miss it.

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! Your small house, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! It's feeble walls the winds are scattering! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, And nothing now, to build a new one, O' foggage green! Of coarse grass green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, And bleak December's winds coming, Baith snell an' keen! Both bitter and keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, You saw the fields laid bare and wasted, An' weary winter comin fast, And weary winter coming fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, And cozy here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, You thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Till crash! the cruel plough past Out thro' thy cell. Out through your cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, That small bit heap of leaves and stubble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Has cost you many a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, Now you are turned out, for all your trouble, But house or hald, Without house or holding, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, To endure the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld. And hoar-frost cold.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, But Mouse, you are not alone, In proving foresight may be vain: In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men The best laid schemes of mice and men Gang aft agley, Go often askew, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, And leaves us nothing but grief and pain, For promis'd joy! For promised joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! Still you are blest, compared with me! The present only toucheth thee: The present only touches you: But och! I backward cast my e'e, But oh! I backward cast my eye, On prospects drear! On prospects dreary! An' forward, tho' I canna see, And forward, though I cannot see, I guess an' fear! I guess and fear!

Auld Lang Syne

Burns' name is not affixed to this world-famous song, and yet there can be no doubt it is chiefly his own. He admitted to Johnson that the two verses beginning respectively, "We tae hae ran about the braes," and "We twa hae paidl'd in the burn," are his own, although in sending the song to Mrs. Dunlop in December, 1788, and also is writing about it to Thomson, in September, 1793, he speaks of it as ancient. "Light be the turf," he says, "on the breast of the heaven-inspired poet who composed this glorious fragment! There is more of the fire of native genius in it than half-a-dozen of modern English Bacchanalians." "Apropos, is not the Scotch phrase exceedingly expressive? This old song and tune has often thrilled through my soul." To Thomson he writes thus:- "The air is but mediocre; but the song of itself - the song of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's singing - is enough to recommend any air."

It is right to state that the popular air of Auld Lang Syne is quite different from that referred to by the poet. We are indebted to George Thomson for selecting the fine old air of Can ye labour lea, which, by universal consent, has now become identified with the present song. We may also notice that the present arrangement of the versus, being that of the poet's own MS., seems preferable to that given by Curtis, who makes the second verse the very last in the song, while it has a manifest reference to the earlier stages of the interview between the supposed singers.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne?

Chorus

For auld lang syne, my jo, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes, And pou'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary fit, Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn, Frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd. Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere! And gie's a hand o' thine! And we'll tak' a right gud-wellie waught, For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

A translation from the Scots Independent auld;old lang;long syne;since auld lang syne ; days of long ago pint stowp ; tankard pou'd ; pulled gowans ; daisies mony ; many fitt ; foot paidl'd ; waded dine; dinner-time braid ; broad fiere ; friend willie-waught ; draught owresettin

Should old friendship be forgot' And never remembered ? Should old friendship be forgotten, And days of long ago.

And surely you will have your tankard ! And surely I will have mine ! And we will take a cup of kindness yet, For days of long ago'

We two have run about the hills And pulled the daisies fine : But we have wandered many a weary foot Since days of long ago.

We two have waded in the stream From dawn till dinner-time : But seas between us broad have roared Since days of long ago.

And there's a hand my trusty friend ! And give me a hand of thine ! And we will take a large draught For days of long ago.

"Auld Lang Syne" (Scots pronunciation: [ˈɔːld lɑŋˈsəin]: note "s" rather than "z")[1] is a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1788[2][3] and set to the tune of a traditional folk song (Roud # 6294). It is well known in many English-speaking (and other) countries and is often sung to celebrate the start of the New Year at the stroke of midnight. By extension, its use has also become common at funerals, graduations, and as a farewell or ending to other occasions.

The song's Scots title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically, "long long ago",[4] "days gone by" or "old times". Consequently "For auld lang syne", as it appears in the first line of the chorus, is loosely translated as "for (the sake of) old times".

The phrase "Auld Lang Syne" is also used in similar poems by Robert Ayton (1570–1638), Allan Ramsay (1686–1757), and James Watson (1711) as well as older folk songs predating Burns.[5] Matthew Fitt uses the phrase "In the days of auld lang syne" as the equivalent of "Once upon a time..." in his retelling of fairy tales in the Scots language

Lyrics

The song begins by posing a rhetorical question as to whether it is right that old times be forgotten, and is generally interpreted as a call to remember long-standing friendships.[13] Thomson‘s Select Songs of was published in 1799 in which the second verse about greeting and toasting was moved to its present position at the end.[13]

Most common use of the song involves only the first verse and the chorus. The last lines of both of these are often sung with the extra words "For the sake of" or "And days of", rather than Burns' simpler lines. This allows one note for each word, rather than the slight melisma required to fit Burns' original words to the melody.

The following table of lyrics includes the first few stanzas of the James Watson poem, probably derived from the same folk song that Burns used as the basis for his poem.

Scots Old Long Syne, English pronunciation IPA Burns’ original by James [4] translation guide pronunciation Scots verse [14]

Watson (1711) (minimalist) (as Scots speakers guide would sound) Should Old Should auld Should old Shid ald ʃɪd o ld Acquaintance be acquaintance be acquaintance be akwentans bee ə.kwɛn.təns bi forgot, forgot, forgot, firgot, fəɾ.ɡot, and never thought and never brought and never brought an nivir brocht ti ən nɪ.vəɾ brɔxt tɪ upon; to mind ? to mind ? mynd? məin? The flames of Should auld Should old Shid ald ʃɪd o ld Love acquaintance be acquaintance be akwentans bee ə.kwɛn.təns bi extinguished, forgot, forgot, firgot, fəɾ.ɡot, and fully past and and auld lang and old lang an ald lang syn*? ən o l lɑŋ səin? gone: syne* ? syne ? Is thy sweet Heart CHORUS: CHORUS: now grown so CHORUS: CHORUS: Fir ald fəɾ o l lɑŋ cold, For auld For auld lang syn, səin, mɑ that loving Breast lang syne, lang syne, ma jo, dʒəʊ, of thine; my jo, my dear, fir ald lang fəɾ o l lɑŋ That thou canst for auld for auld syn, səin, never once reflect lang syne, lang syne, wil tak a wi l tɑk ə on Old long syne. we‘ll tak a we'll take cup o kʌp ə cup o‘ a cup of kyndnes kəin.nəs CHORUS: kindness kindness yet, jɛt, On Old yet, yet, fir ald lang fəɾ o l lɑŋ long syne for auld for auld syn. səin. my Jo, lang syne. lang syne. in Old An sheerly yil bee ən ʃe r.li ji l bi ju ɾ long syne, And surely ye‘ll And surely you‘ll yur pynt-staup! pəin.stʌup! That thou be your pint- buy your pint an sheerly al bee ən ʃe r.li ɑ l bi canst stowp ! cup ! myn! məin! never once and surely I‘ll be and surely I‘ll buy An will tak a cup ən wi l tɑk ə kʌp ə reflect, mine ! mine ! o kyndnes yet, kəin.nəs jɛt, on Old And we‘ll tak a And we'll take a fir ald lang syn. fəɾ o l lɑŋ səin. long syne. cup o‘ kindness cup o‘ kindness yet, yet, CHORUS CHORUS My Heart is for auld lang syne. for auld lang syne. ravisht with We twa hay rin wi two he rɪn delight, CHORUS CHORUS aboot the braes, ə.but ðə bre z, when thee I think an pood the ən pu d ðə upon; We twa hae run We two have run gowans fyn; ɡʌu.ənz fəin; All Grief and about the braes, about the slopes, Bit weev wandert bʌt wi v wɑn.əɾt Sorrow takes the and pu‘d the and picked the monae a weery mʌ.ne ə wi ɾɪ fɪt, flight, gowans fine ; daisies fine ; fet, sɪn o l laŋ səin. and speedily is But we‘ve But we‘ve sin ald lang syn. gone; wander‘d mony a wandered many a CHORUS The bright weary fit, weary foot, CHORUS resemblance of sin auld lang syne. since auld lang wi two he pe.dlt thy Face, syne. We twa hay pedilt ɪn ðə bʌɾn, so fills this, Heart CHORUS in the burn, fre mo ɾ.nɪn sɪn of mine; CHORUS fray mornin sun til tɪl dəin; That Force nor We twa hae dyn; bʌt si z ə.twin ʌs Fate can me paidl‘d i' the burn, We two have But seas between bred he ro rd displease, frae morning sun paddled in the us bred hay roard sɪn o l laŋ səin. for Old long syne. till dine ; stream, sin ald lang syn. But seas between from morning sun CHORUS CHORUS us braid hae till dine† ; CHORUS roar‘d But seas between Since thoughts of sin auld lang syne. us broad have An thers a han, ən ðe rz ə ho n, thee doth banish roared my trustee feer! mɑ trʌs.tɪ fi ɾ! grief, CHORUS since auld lang an gees a han o ən ɡi z ə ho n ə when from thee I syne. thyn! ðəin! am gone; And there‘s a And we‘ll tak a ən wi l tak ə rɪxt will not thy hand, my trusty CHORUS richt‡ gude-willie- ɡɪd wʌ.lɪ wo xt, presence yield fiere ! waucht‡, fəɾ o l laŋ səin. relief, and gie's a hand o‘ And there‘s a fir ald lang syn. to this sad Heart thine ! hand my trusty CHORUS of mine: And we‘ll tak a friend ! CHORUS Why doth thy right gude-willy And give us a presence me waught, hand o‘ thine ! defeat, for auld lang syne. And we‘ll take a with excellence right good-will divine? CHORUS draught, Especially when I for auld lang syne. reflect on Old long syne CHORUS

CHORUS

(several further stanzas)

† dine = "dinner time" ‡ ch = soft throat clearing sound, similar to "lachen" and "Bach" in German * syne = "since" or "then" - pronounced "sign" rather than "zine".

Tam o' Shanter - a Tale!

Tam o' Shanter is a wonderful, epic poem in which Burns paints a vivid picture of the drinking classes in the old Scotch town of Ayr in the late 18th century. It is populated by several unforgettable characters including of course Tam himself, his bosom pal, Souter (Cobbler) Johnnie and his own long suffering wife Kate, "Gathering her brows like gathering storm, nursing her wrath to keep it warm". We are also introduced to Kirkton Jean, the ghostly, "winsome wench", Cutty Sark and let's not forget his gallant horse, Maggie.

The tale includes humour, pathos, horror, social comment and in my opinion some of the most beautiful lines that Burns ever penned. For example, "But pleasures are like poppies spread, You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white--then melts for ever".

Enjoy "Tam o' Shanter - a Tale"

Tam o' Shanter (Original) Tam o' Shanter (Translation)

When chapmen billies leave the street, When the peddler people leave the streets, And drouthy neibors, neibors meet, And thirsty neighbours, neighbours meet; As market days are wearing late, As market days are wearing late, An' folk begin to tak the gate; And folk begin to take the road home, While we sit bousing at the nappy, While we sit boozing strong ale, And getting fou and unco happy, And getting drunk and very happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, We don‘t think of the long Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, The marshes, waters, steps and stiles, That lie between us and our hame, That lie between us and our home, Where sits our sulky sullen dame. Where sits our sulky, sullen dame (wife), Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Gathering her brows like a gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. Nursing her wrath, to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, This truth finds honest Tam o' Shanter, As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, As he from Ayr one night did canter; (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses Old Ayr, which never a town surpasses, For honest men and bonie lasses.) For honest men and bonny lasses.

O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise, Oh Tam, had you but been so wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! As to have taken your own wife Kate‘s advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, She told you well you were a waster, A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; A rambling, blustering, drunken boaster, That frae November till October, That from November until October, Ae market-day thou was nae sober; Each market day you were not sober; That ilka melder, wi' the miller, During each milling period with the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; You sat as long as you had money, That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, For every horse he put a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; The blacksmith and you got roaring drunk on; That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, That at the Lords House, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. You drank with Kirkton Jean till Monday. She prophesied that late or soon, She prophesied, that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; You would be found deep drowned in Doon, Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, Or caught by warlocks in the murk, By 's auld haunted kirk. By Alloway‘s old haunted church.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, Ah, gentle ladies, it makes me cry, To think how mony counsels sweet, To think how many counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, How much long and wise advice The husband frae the wife despises! The husband from the wife despises!

But to our tale:-- Ae market-night, But to our tale :- One market night, Tam had got planted unco right; Tam was seated just right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Next to a fireplace, blazing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely With creamy ales, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, And at his elbow, Cobbler Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; His ancient, trusted, thirsty crony; Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither-- Tom loved him like a very brother, They had been fou for weeks thegither! They had been drunk for weeks together. The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter The night drove on with songs and clatter, And ay the ale was growing better: And every ale was tasting better; The landlady and Tam grew gracious, The landlady and Tam grew gracious, wi' favours secret,sweet and precious With secret favours, sweet and precious; The Souter tauld his queerest stories; The cobbler told his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The landlord‘s laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Outside, the storm might roar and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Tam did not mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy, Care, mad to see a man so happy, E'en drown'd himsel' amang the nappy! Even drowned himself in ale. As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, As bees fly home with loads of treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: The minutes winged their way with pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious. Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! Over all the ills of life victorious.

But pleasures are like poppies spread, But pleasures are like poppies spread: You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed; You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, Or like the snow fall on the river, A moment white--then melts for ever; A moment white - then melts forever, Or like the borealis race, Or like the Aurora Borealis rays, That flit ere you can point their place; That move before you can point to where they're Or like the rainbow's lovely form placed; Evanishing amid the storm.-- Or like the rainbow‘s lovely form, Nae man can tether time or tide; Vanishing amid the storm. The hour approaches Tam maun ride; No man can tether time or tide, That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, The hour approaches Tom must ride: That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; That hour, of night‘s black arch - the key-stone, And sic a night he taks the road in That dreary hour he mounts his beast in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. And such a night he takes to the road in As never a poor sinner had been out in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast; The wind blew as if it had blown its last; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd The rattling showers rose on the blast; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd: The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed, That night, a child might understand, Loud, deep and long the thunder bellowed: The Deil had business on his hand. That night, a child might understand, The Devil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg-- A better never lifted leg-- Well mounted on his grey mare, Meg. Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire; A better never lifted leg, Despisin' wind and rain and fire. Tom, raced on through mud and mire, Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet; Despising wind and rain and fire; Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whilst holding fast his good blue bonnet, Whiles glowring round wi' prudent cares, While crooning over some old Scots sonnet, Lest bogles catch him unawares: Whilst glowering round with prudent care, Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Lest ghosts catch him unaware: Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. Alloway‘s Church was drawing near, Where ghosts and owls nightly cry. By this time he was cross the ford, Whare, in the snaw, the chapman smoor'd; By this time he was across the ford, And past the birks and meikle stane, Where in the snow the pedlar got smothered; Whare drunken Chairlie brak 's neck-bane; And past the birch trees and the huge stone, And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Where drunken Charlie broke his neck bone; Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And through the thorns, and past the monument, And near the thorn, aboon the well, Where hunters found the murdered child; Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.-- And near the thorn, above the well, Before him Doon pours all his floods; Where Mungo‘s mother hung herself. The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; Before him the river Doon pours all his floods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; The doubling storm roars throught the woods; Near and more near the thunders roll: The lightnings flashes from pole to pole; When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Nearer and more near the thunder rolls; Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; When, glimmering through the groaning trees, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; Alloway‘s Church seemed in a blaze, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Through every gap , light beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold ! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn! () Wi' tippeny, we fear nae evil; What dangers you can make us scorn! Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!-- With ale, we fear no evil; The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, With whisky, we‘ll face the Devil! Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. The ales so swam in Tam‘s head, But Maggie stood, right sair astonish'd, Fair play, he didn‘t care a farthing for devils. Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, But Maggie stood, right sore astonished, She ventured forward on the light; Till, by the heel and hand admonished, And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight She ventured forward on the light; And, vow! Tom saw an incredible sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance; Nae cotillion brent-new frae France, Warlocks and witches in a dance: But hornpipes, jigs strathspeys, and reels, No cotillion, brand new from France, Put life and mettle in their heels. But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, A winnock-bunker in the east, Put life and mettle in their heels. There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; In a window alcove in the east, A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, There sat Old Nick, in shape of beast; To gie them music was his charge: A shaggy dog, black, grim, and large, He scre'd the pipes and gart them skirl, To give them music was his charge: Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.-- He screwed the pipes and made them squeal, Coffins stood round, like open presses, Till roof and rafters all did ring. That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; Coffins stood round, like open presses, And by some develish cantraip slight, That showed the dead in their last dresses; Each in its cauld hand held a light.-- And, by some devilish magic sleight, By which heroic Tam was able Each in its cold hand held a light: To note upon the haly table, By which heroic Tom was able A murders's banes in gibbet-airns; To note upon the holy table, Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns; A murderer‘s bones, in gibbet-irons; A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, Two span-long, small, unchristened babies; Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; A thief just cut from his hanging rope - Five tomahawks, wi blude red-rusted; With his last gasp his mouth did gape; Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted; Five tomahawks with blood red-rusted; A garter, which a babe had strangled; Five scimitars with murder crusted; A knife, a father's throat had mangled, A garter with which a baby had strangled; Whom his ain son o' life bereft, A knife a father‘s throat had mangled - The gray hairs yet stack to the heft; Whom his own son of life bereft - Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', The grey-hairs yet stack to the shaft; Which even to name was be unlawfu'. With more o' horrible and awful, Three lawyers' tongues, turn'd inside out, Which even to name would be unlawful. Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout; Three Lawyers‘ tongues, turned inside out, Three priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck, Sown with lies like a beggar‘s cloth - Lay stinking, vile in every neuk. Three Priests‘ hearts, rotten, black as muck Lay stinking, vile, in every nook. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; As Thomas glowered, amazed, and curious, The piper loud and louder blew; The mirth and fun grew fast and furious; The dancers quick and quicker flew; The piper loud and louder blew, They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, The dancers quick and quicker flew, Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, They reeled, they set, they crossed, they linked, And coost her duddies to the wark, Till every witch sweated and smelled, And linket at it her sark! And cast her ragged clothes to the floor, And danced deftly at it in her underskirts! Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans, A' plump and strapping in their teens, Now Tam, O Tam! had these been quines (young Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, girls), Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linnen! All plump and strapping in their teens! Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, Their underskirts, instead of greasy flannel, That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair, Been snow-white seventeen hundred linen! - I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, The trousers of mine, my only pair, For ae blink o' the bonie burdies! That once were plush, of good blue hair, I would have given them off my buttocks But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, For one blink of those pretty girls ! Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, Louping and flinging on a crummock, But withered hags, old and droll, I wonder did na turn thy stomach! Ugly enough to suckle a foal, Leaping and flinging on a stick, But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie: Its a wonder it didn‘t turn your stomach! There was ae winsome wench and waulie, That night enlisted in the core, But Tam knew what was what well enough: Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore; There was one winsome, jolly wench, (For mony a beast to dead she shot, That night enlisted in the core, And perish'd mony a bonie boat, Long after known on Carrick shore And shook baith meikle corn and bear, (For many a beast to dead she shot, And kept the country-side in fear.) And perished many a bonnie boat, Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn And shook both much corn and , That while a lassie she had worn, And kept the country-side in fear.) In longitude tho' sorely scanty, Her short underskirt, o‘ Paisley cloth, It was her best, and she was vauntie,- That while a young lass she had worn, Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, In longitude though very limited, That sark she coft for he wee Nannie, It was her best, and she was proud. . . Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches), Ah! little knew your reverend grandmother, Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches! That skirt she bought for her little grandaughter, With two Scots pounds (it was all her riches), But here my Muse her wing maun cour; Would ever graced a dance of witches! Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, But here my tale must stoop and bow, (A souple jade she was, and strang), Such words are far beyond her power; And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd, To sing how Nannie leaped and kicked And thought his very een enrich'd; (A supple youth she was, and strong); Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, And how Tom stood like one bewitched, And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main; And thought his very eyes enriched; Till first ae caper, syne anither, Even Satan glowered, and fidgeted full of lust, Tam tint his reason ' thegither, And jerked and blew with might and main; And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" Till first one caper, then another, And in an instant all was dark: Tom lost his reason all together, And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, And roars out: ‗ Well done, short skirt! ‘ When out the hellish legion sallied. And in an instant all was dark; And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, When out the hellish legion sallied. When plundering herds assail their byke; As open pussie's mortal foes, As bees buzz out with angry wrath, When, pop! she starts before their nose; When plundering herds assail their hive; As eager runs the market-crowd, As a wild hare‘s mortal foes, When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; When, pop! she starts running before their nose; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, As eager runs the market-crowd, Wi' mony an eldritch skriech and hollo. When ‗ Catch the thief! ‘ resounds aloud: So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'! With many an unearthly scream and holler. In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'! In vain thy Kate awaits thy commin'! Ah, Tom! Ah, Tom! You will get what's coming! Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! In hell they will roast you like a herring! Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, In vain your Kate awaits your coming ! And win the key-stane o' the brig; Kate soon will be a woeful woman! There at them thou thy tail may toss, Now, do your speedy utmost, Meg, A running stream they dare na cross. And beat them to the key-stone of the bridge; But ere the key-stane she could make, There, you may toss your tale at them, The fient a tail she had to shake! A running stream they dare not cross! For Nannie, far before the rest, But before the key-stone she could make, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, She had to shake a tail at the fiend; And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle; For Nannie, far before the rest, But little wist she Maggie's mettle - Hard upon noble Maggie pressed, Ae spring brought off her master hale, And flew at Tam with furious aim; But left behind her ain gray tail; But little was she Maggie‘s mettle! The carlin claught her by the rump, One spring brought off her master whole, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. But left behind her own grey tail: The witch caught her by the rump, No, wha this tale o' truth shall read, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Ilk man and mother's son take heed; Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, Now, who this tale of truth shall read, Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, Each man, and mother‘s son, take heed: Think! ye may buy joys o'er dear - Whenever to drink you are inclined, Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. Or short skirts run in your mind, Think! you may buy joys over dear: Remember Tam o‘ Shanter‘s mare.

Tam o' Shanter (poem)

"Tam o' Shanter" is a poem written by the Scottish poet Robert Burns in 1790. Many consider it to be one of the best examples of the narrative poem in modern European literature.

First published in 1791, it is one of Burns's longer poems, and employs a mixture of Scots and English. It tells the story of a man who stayed too long at a public house and witnessed a disturbing vision on his way home.

The name is often misspelled "Tam O'Shanter", by mistaking "o'", a contraction of "of", for the Irish patronymic prefix "O'".

Summary

Contemporary woodcut showing Tam wearing his bonnet and sitting astride his horse Meg The poem begins:

When chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin to tak the gate, While we sit bousing at the nappy, An' getting fou and unco happy, We think na on the lang Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles, That lie between us and our hame, Where sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

After Burns has located us geographically:

(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men and bonnie lasses).

(a quote that gave Ayr United F.C. their nickname "the honest men"), Tam sits and drinks with his friends, and the reader is regaled with a bad character reference of him by his wife:

She prophesied that late or soon, Thou wad be found, deep drown'd in Doon, Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, By Alloway's auld, haunted kirk.

Tam's wife, Kate, is portrayed as an authority to be feared. Then:

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, To think how mony counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd, sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises!

Tam continues to drink and even flirts with the landlady of the pub. Eventually he mounts up and rides off on his grey mare Meg, for his long, dark, lonely ride home. Burns emphasises the spooky character of the Ayrshire countryside Tam has to ride through—but of course it is much easier as he is drunk:

Early 20th century: a tobacco advert using a picture of Tam

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!

With the scene set, suddenly: "wow! Tam saw an unco sight!"

The sight he sees is Alloway Kirk, ablaze with light, where a weird hallucinatory dance involving witches and warlocks, open coffins and even the Devil himself is in full swing. The scene is told with grimly enthusiastic gothic attention to detail. Tam manages to watch silently until, the dancing witches having cast off most of their clothes, he is beguiled by one particularly comely female witch, Nannie, whose shirt (cutty-sark) is too small for her. He cannot help shouting out in passion:

Weel done, Cutty-sark! And in an instant all was dark:

There is a chase and Tam‘s evident pride in the ability of his horse is justified as she is able to help him to "win the key-stone o' the brig". (Witches and warlocks cannot cross running water.)

They only just make it though, as Nannie, first among the "hellish legion" chasing, grabs the horse's tail, which comes off. In fine, tongue-in-cheek moralistic mode, the poem concludes: Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son, take heed: Whene'er to Drink you are inclin'd, Or Cutty-sarks rin in your mind, Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear; Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare

Background

The poem first appeared in the Edinburgh Magazine for March 1791, a month before it appeared in the second volume of Francis Grose's Antiquities of Scotland, for which it was written. Robert Riddell introduced Burns to Grose. According to , the poet asked the antiquarian to include a drawing of Alloway Kirk when he came to Ayrshire, and Grose agreed, as long as Burns would give him something to print with it.

Burns wrote to Grose in June 1790, giving him three witch stories associated with Alloway Kirk, two of which he said were "authentic", the third, "though equally true, being not so well identified as the two former with regard to the scene". The second of the stories was, in fact, Tam o' Shanter. This is Burns' prose sketch of it to Grose:

On a market-day, in the town of Ayr, a farmer from Carrick, and consequently whose way lay by the very gate of Alloway kirk-yard, in order to cross the River Doon, at the old bridge, which is almost two or three hundred yards farther on than the said old gate, had been detained by his business till by the time he reached Alloway it was the wizard hour, between night and morning.

Though he was terrified with a blaze streaming from the kirk, yet as it is a well known fact, that to turn back on these occasions is running by far the greatest risk of mischief, he prudently advanced on his road. When he had reached the gate of the kirk-yard, he was surprised and entertained, thorough the ribs and arches of an old gothic window which still faces the highway, to see a dance of witches merrily footing it round their old sooty black-guard master, who was keeping them all alive with the power of his bagpipe. The farmer stopping his horse to observe them a little, could plainly desern the faces of many old women of his acquaintance and neighbourhood. How the gentleman was dressed, tradition does not say; but the ladies were all in their smocks; and one of them happening unluckily to have a smock which was considerably too short to answer all the purpose of that piece of dress, our farmer was so tickled that he involuntarily burst out, with a loud laugh, 'Weel luppen, Maggy wi' the short sark!' and recollecting himself, instantly spurred his horse to the top of his speed. I need not mention the universally known fact, that no diabolical power can pursue you beyond the middle of a running stream. Lucky it was for the poor farmer that the river Doon was so near, for notwithstanding the speed of his horse, which was a good one, against he reached the middle of the arch of the bridge and consequently the middle of the stream, the pursuing, vengeful hags were so close at his heels, that one of them actually sprung to seize him: but it was too late; nothing was on her side of the stream but the horse's tail, which immediately gave way to her infernal grip, as if blasted by a stroke of lightning; but the farmer was beyond her reach. However, the unsightly, tailless condition of the vigorous steed was to the last hours of the noble creature's life, an awful warning to the Carrick farmers, not to stay too late in Ayr markets. Thus began what was to be one of Burns' most sustained poetic efforts.

The story that the poem was written in a day was perpetrated by John Gibson Lockhart, aided by Allan Cunningham. Its subtle nuances of tempo, pace and tone suggest that it had been given, as Burns told Mrs Dunlop on 11 April 1791, "a finishing polish that I despair of ever excelling".[1]

It is said[who?] that Tam is based on one Douglas Graham, a statement made by Burns during a visit to Sir William Cunninghame at Robertland House.[citation needed]

Analysis

By using Scots alongside English, and by the sheer power of his expression in both, Burns simultaneously tells a good story, and makes points about alcohol, good and evil, marriage, sexual attraction, and relations between women and men in general, and indeed between a man and his horse.

There are many dramatic tensions and ironies in the poem.

The tensions between the fairly twee, ostensibly moralistic frame of the poem, and the relish with which Burns describes Tam‘s disreputable tale, are obvious and lend the poem a lot of its power. Less obvious perhaps is the way Burns alternates Scots and English for effect. In this way, he seems to signal the irony of his own intention in writing the poem. Is he expressing regret for his own life, which was not short of drink and "cutty-sark"?

Revision

An early version of the poem includes four lines which were deleted at the request of one of Burns' friends—a judge.[2] The poem originally contained the lines:

Three lawyers' tongues, turn'd inside out, Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout; Three priests' hearts, rotten black as muck, Lay stinking, vile in every neuk.

A handwritten note on the manuscript[citation needed] written by Judge Alexander Fraser Tytler, reads "Burns left out these four lines at my desire, as being incongruous with the other circumstances of pure horror." Burns had the lines removed from later editions. It was not unknown for Burns to make changes at the request of friends.

A Red, Red Rose

Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is representative of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by rheumatic heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey through poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and financial success can be identified by all Scots and common men the world over. He has become almost a national symbol of all things Scottish. His life is like a love story with a happy ending.

The Poet, Robert Burns

Robert Burns's family raised seven children on sparse, rented farmland on the west coast of Scotland. The family cottage still stands as a proud tourist attraction. The family farm was not successful and the family moved from farm to farm. Life on the farm in western Scotland was harsh and Robert worked long hours with his father.

Burn's father recognized the value of education and he managed to hire a local teacher to tutor Robert. He was an extremely bright student, mastering Shakespeare, current poets, French, Latin, philosophy, politics, geography, theology, and mathematics. His father read the Bible during the evenings around the cottage fireplace and Robert became an expert on the Bible and a devout Church member.

Robert Burns wrote his first poem at age 15. The poem was called "" and was about his first love for a girl named Nellie Blair. Throughout his life, Burns was a charming and witty man, attracting the attention of numerous women. A dozen or more women can be identified as the inspiration for various poems. Burns wrote many famous love poems, including "A Red, Red Rose" and "One Fond Kiss."

Here's an excerpt from "Handsome Nell."

"O once I loved a bonnie lass,

Aye, and I love her still;

And whilst that virtue warms my breast,

I'll love my handsome Nell."

Burns, in a later comment on this poem, stated that he had "never had the least thought or inclination of turning poet till I got once heartily in love, and then rhyme and song were, in a manner, the spontaneous language of my heart." The Turning Point

In 1786, at age 27, Robert Burns went through a major turning point in his life. He suffered a disappointing love affair with , who was pregnant with his twin sons. The local community and Armour's father were outraged by the affair and her father rejected Burns's offer of marriage.

Dejected and depressed, Burns made plans to leave Scotland and sail to Jamaica in the West Indies. To finance the trip, Burns submitted a volume of his poetry for publication.

The publication of 612 copies in a simple, unbound volume was called "Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," also sometimes known as "The Kilmarnock Edition." The poems were well received in Edinburgh by socialites who were enchanted by the poems and amazed that a poor farmer could write so well.

So, instead of planning his escape to a new world, Burns planned a trip to Edinburgh. His confident manner, ingratiating style, and his obvious wit and intelligence brought Burns popularity and admiration. Soon, a second publication of his work was executed in Edinburgh.

The Growing Popularity

During his stay in Edinburgh, Robert Burns met printer James Johnson, who planned a project to print all of the folk songs in Scotland. This project enthralled Burns and embarked upon a journey throughout Scotland to collect as many folk songs as possible. Burns collected over 300 songs and wrote a few himself, including "A Red, Red Rose."

One of the results of his travels throughout Scotland was that Robert Burns ingratiated himself to everyone he met and he rose to national prominence and popularity.

The collected songs were published by Johnson in six volumes and by George Thomson in a five volume set.

Another happy outcome of this turning point in Robert Burns's life is that he was able to return home and marry his beloved Jean Armour, now with the blessing of her family.

Robert Burns continued to collect and write songs for The , an anthology of traditional Scottish lyrical poems, until his untimely death from rheumatic heart disease in 1796.

Within a few years of his death groups of Robert Burns's friends and fans gathered to promote his memory and to celebrate his life. By 1801, five years after his death, groups met on the anniversary of his death, but later they began to meet on the anniversary of his birth, January 25. Now there are many and societies who celebrate his memory with dinners, including haggis, and readings of his works.

A Red, Red Rose

One of the most famous songs that Robert Burns wrote for this project and first published in 1794 was "A Red, Red Rose." Burns wrote it as a traditional , four verses of four lines each.

"A Red, Red Rose" begins with a quatrain containing two similes. Burns compares his love with a springtime blooming rose and then with a sweet melody. These are popular poetic images and this is the stanza most commonly quoted from the poem.

The second and third stanzas become increasingly complex, ending with the metaphor of the "sands of life," or hourglass. One the one hand we are given the image of his love lasting until the seas run dry and the rocks melt with the sun, wonderfully poetic images. On the other hand Burns reminds us of the passage of time and the changes that result. That recalls the first stanza and its image of a red rose, newly sprung in June, which we know from experience will change and decay with time. These are complex and competing images, typical of the more mature Robert Burns.

The final stanza wraps up the poem's complexity with a farewell and a promise of return.

"A Red, Red Rose" is written as a ballad with four stanzas of four lines each. Each stanza has alternating lines of four beats, or iambs, and three beats. The first and third lines have four iambs, consisting of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, as in da-dah, da-dah, da-dah, da-dah. The second and fourth lines consist of three iambs. This form of verse is well adapted for singing or recitation and originated in the days when poetry existed in verbal rather than written form.

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

O my luve's like a red, red rose.

That's newly sprung in June;

O my luve's like a melodie

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will love 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:

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!

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