The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Volume 2

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W. Pickering, 1839 - 319 pages
 

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Page 295 - Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure ! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! Ae fareweel, alas ! for ever ! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Page 274 - O, MY luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June : O, my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a
Page 248 - JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. JOHN ANDERSON my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent ; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And monie a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Page 124 - GRACE. SOME hae meat, and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it ; But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thanket. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF PEG NICHOLSON. PEG Nicholson was a gude bay mare, As ever trode on airn ; But now she's floating down the Nith, An' past the mouth o
Page 295 - 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.
Page 263 - Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love; And sae did I o
Page 172 - A WINSOME WEE THING. SHE is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o
Page 201 - Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; Thou'rt to Love and Heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near, My bonnie dearie.
Page 248 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Page 231 - AFTER all my boasted independence, curst Necessity -compels me to implore you for five pounds. A cruel scoundrel of a Haberdasher, to whom I owe an account, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process, and will infallibly put me into jail. Do, for God's sake, send me that sum, and that by return of post. Forgive me this earnestness; but the horrors of a jail have made me half distracted. I do not ask all this gratuitously; for upon returning health, I hereby promise and engage...

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