Robert Burns
First Lines
Accept the gift a friend sincere
Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms,
Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows,
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near,
Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly,
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore,
Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay
Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear!
How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing,
Last May a braw wooer cam' down the lang glen,
Let not ambition mock their useful toil;
Let other poets raise a fracas
My curse upon thy venom'd stang,
My heart is wae, and unco wae,
My heart was ance as blithe and free
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
Now spring has clad the grove in green,
O stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
O thou dread Pow'r, who reign'st above!
O thou unknown, Almighty Cause
O wha my babie-clouts will buy?
O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the lone mountain straying,
O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
O, once I lov'd a bonnie lass,
Once fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear;
Right, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Tam Samson's weel worn clay here lies,
The man, in life wherever plac'd,
The wintry west extends his blast,
There was three kings into the east,
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,
Thou's welcome, wean! mischanter fa' me,
Though fickle fortune has deceived me,
'Twas in that place o' Scotland's isle,
Wee, modest crimson-tipped flow'r,
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
When first I came to Stewart Kyle,
When first my brave Johnnie lad
While winds frae off Ben Lomond blaw,
Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
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