File:Poems and songs (1858) (14769638404).jpg

Identifier: poemsandsongs00burn (find matches)
Title: Poems and songs
Year: 1858 (1850s)
Authors: Burns, Robert, 1759-1796
Subjects:
Publisher: London : Bell and Daldy
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
ize theeAnce in a day. Thou ance was i the foremost rank,A filly buirdly, steeve, and swank,And set weel down a shapely shank As eer trod yird ;And could hae flown out-owre a stank Like ony bird. Its now some nine-and-twenty year,Sin thou was my guid fathers meere,He gied me thee, o tocher clear, And fifty mark :Though it was sma, twas weel-won gear, And thou was stark. When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,Ye then was trottin wi your minnie :Tho ye was trickie, slee, and funny, Ye neer was donsie ;But hamely, tawie, quiet, and cannie, And unco sonsie. That day ye pranced wi muckle pride,When ye bure hame my bonny bride;And sweet and gracefu she did ride, Wi maiden air !Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide, For sic a pair. Tho now ye dow but hoyte and hoble,And wintle like a saumont-coble,That day ye was a jinker noble, For heels and win,And ran them till they a did wauble Far, far behin. TO HIS AULD MARE MAGGIE. 15 When thou and I were young and skeigh,And stable-meals at fairs were driegh,
Text Appearing After Image:
How thou wad prance, and snort and skreigh,And tak the road ! 16 THE AULD FARMERS NEW-YEAR SALUTATION Towns bodies ran, and stood abeigh,And cat thee mad. When thou was cornt, and I was mellow,We took the road ay like a swallow:At brooses thou had neer a fallow, For pith and speed ;But every tail thou payt them hollow, Whareer thou gaed. The sma, droop-rumplt hunter cattle,Might aiblins waurt thee for a brattle ;But sax Scotch miles thou tryt their mettle, And gart them whaizle :Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle O saugh or hazel. Thou was a noble fittie-lan As eer in tug or tow was drawn ; Aft thee and I, in aught hours gaun, In gude March weather,Hae turnd sax rood beside our han, For days thegither. Thou never braindgt, and fecht, and fliskit,But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,And spread abreed thy weel-filld brisket, Wi pith and power,Till spritty knowes wad rairt and riskit An slypet owre. When frosts lay lang, and snaws were deep,And threatend labour back to keep,T gied th

Note About Images