Burns Night

 

Epitaph on a Wag in Mauchline

Lament 'im Mauchline husbands a',
He aften did assist ye;
For had ye staid whole weeks awa'
Your wives they ne're had miss'd ye.

Ye Mauchline bairns as on ye pass,
To school in bands thegither,
O tread ye lightly on his grass,
Perhaps he was your faither.

Jeremiah 15th, Ch 10 V
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.

I ne'er could lend on bill or band,
That five per cent might blest me;
And borrowing, on the tither hand,
The de'il a ane wad trust me.

Yet I, a coin-denied wight,
By Fortune quite discarded,
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded.

My Luve is like a Red Red Rose
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 bonie lass, 
So deep in luve am I; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
Till a' the seas gang dry. 

Till a' the seas gang dry , my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve ! 
And fare-thee-weel, a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!
BBC