Robert Burns

Inspiring bold JohnBarleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border.

My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.

Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane In proving foresight may be vain The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain For promis'd joy!

Their sighing, canting, grace-proud faces, their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.

It 's guid to be merry and wise, It 's guid to be honest and true, It 's guid to support Caledonia's cause, And bide by the buff and the blue.

For thus the royal mandate ran, When first the human race began, "The social, friendly honest man, Whate'er he be, Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, And none but he!"

I love drinking now and then. It defecates the standing pool of thought. A man perpetually in the paroxysm and fears of inebriety is like a half-drowned stupid wretch condemned to labor unceasingly in water; but a now-and-then tribute to Bacchus is like the cold bath, bracing and invigorating.

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.

My Son, these maxims make a rule An lump them ay thegither: The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,_x000D_ _x000D_ Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;_x000D_ _x000D_ Th' expectant wee-things, toddling, stacher thro'_x000D_ _x000D_ To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.

To make a happy fireside clime_x000D_ _x000D_ To weans and wife,_x000D_ _x000D_ That's the true pathos and sublime_x000D_ _x000D_ Of human life.

Now Nature hangs her mantle green_x000D_ _x000D_ On every blooming tree,_x000D_ _x000D_ And spreads her sheets o'daisies white_x000D_ _x000D_ Out o'er the grassy lea.

Again rejoicing Nature sees_x000D_ _x000D_ Her robe assume its vernal hues_x000D_ _x000D_ Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,_x000D_ _x000D_ All freshly steep'd in the morning dews.

Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire,_x000D_ _x000D_ That's a' the learning I desire.

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash;_x000D_ _x000D_ Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash;_x000D_ _x000D_ Some rhyme to court the countra clash,_x000D_ _x000D_ An' raise a din;_x000D_ _x000D_ For me, an aim I never fash;_x000D_ _x000D_ I rhyme for fun.

The golden hours on angel wings_x000D_ _x000D_ Flew o'er me and my dearie,_x000D_ _x000D_ For dear to me as light and life_x000D_ _x000D_ Was my sweet Highland Mary.

To see her is to love her,_x000D_ _x000D_ And love but her forever;_x000D_ _x000D_ For nature made her what she is,_x000D_ _x000D_ And never made anither!

O Life! thou art a galling load,_x000D_ _x000D_ Along a rough, a weary road,_x000D_ _x000D_ To wretches such as I!