A wee bit o' Burns

[Penny Tray]

Know thou, O stranger to the fame
Of this much lov’d, much honour’d name!
(For none that knew him need be told)
A warmer heart Death ne’er made cold.

*EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ.

[Penny Tray]

Now Robertson, harangue nae mair
But steek your gab for ever;
Or try the wicked town of Ayr,
For there they’ll think you clever;
Or, nae reflection on your lear,
Ye may commence a shaver;
Or to the Netherton repair,
An’ turn a carpet weaver,
Aff-hand this day.

*THE ORDINATION

[Penny Tray]

This list wi’ my ain hand I’ve wrote it,
The day and date as under notit;
Then know all ye whom it concerns,
Subscripsi buic ROBERT BURNS.

*THE INVENTORY

[Penny Tray]

Now if ye’re ane o’ warl’s folk,
Wha rate the wearer by the cloak,
An sklent on poverty their joke,
Wi’ bitter sneer,
Wi’ you nae friendship I will troke,
Nor cheap nor dear.

*TO JOHN KENNEDY, DUMFRIES HOUSE

[Penny Tray]

And now we’re dern’d in dens and hollows,
And hunted, as was William Wallace,
Wi’ constables – thae blackguard fallows –
And sodjers baith;
But Gude preserve us frae the gallows,
That shamefu’ death!

*ADAM ARMOUR’S PRAYER

[Penny Tray]

My heart-warm love to guid auld Glen,
The ace an’ wale of honest men:
When bending down wi’ auld grey hairs
Beneath the load of years and cares,
May HE who made him still support him,
And views beyond the grave comfort him!
His worthy fam’ly far and near,
God bless them a’ wi’ grace and gear!

*EPISTLE TO JAMES TENNANT OF GLENCONNER

[Penny Tray]

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r,
Thou’s met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow’r,
Thou bonie gem.

*TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

[Penny Tray]

The poor man weeps – Here Gavin sleeps,
Whom canting wretches blam’d;
But with such as he, where’er he be,
May I be sav’d or damn’d!

*EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON

[Penny Tray]

Encircled in her clasping arms,
How have the raptur’d moments flown!
How have I wish’d for Fortune’s charms,
For her dear sake, and her’s alone!
And, must I think it! is she gone,
My secret heart’s exulting boast?
And does she heedless hear my groan?
And is she ever, ever lost?

*THE LAMENT

[Penny Tray]

Oppress’d with grief, oppress’d with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I set me down and sigh;
O Life! Thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I!

*DESPONDENCY – AN ODE

[Penny Tray]

Ah, woe is me, my Mother dear!
A man of strife ye’ve born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
They hate, revile, and scorn me.

*AH, WOE IS ME, MY MOTHER DEAR

[Penny Tray]

The Poet may jingle and rhyme
In hopes of a laureate wreathing,
And when he has wasted his time,
He’s kindly rewarded with – naething.

*STANZAS ON NAETHING