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The wide world is all before us - but a world without a friend.

Robert Burns

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Robert Burns
Age: 37 †
Born: 1759
Born: January 25
Died: 1796
Died: July 21
Farmer
Musicologist
Poet
Songwriter
Writer
Robbie Burns
Rabbie Burns
Scotland's favourite son
Ploughman Poet
Robden of Solway Firth
Bard of Ayrshire
The Bard
Robert Burns
Wide
Friend
Without
World

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Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.
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Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.
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The upright, honest-hearted man Who strives to do the best he can, Need never fear the church's ban Or hell's damnation.
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I pick my favourite quotations and store them in my mind as ready armour, offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence.
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Great for good, or great for evil.
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Some books are lies frae end to end.
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
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Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve.
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Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining.
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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o' sunny noon Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e'e, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gi'es to me.
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My Son, these maxims make a rule An lump them ay thegither: The Rigid Righteous is a fool, The Rigid Wise anither.
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Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us
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Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now 's the day and now 's the hour See the front o' battle lour.
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For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.
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That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.
Robert Burns
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My heart 's in the Highlands, my heart is not here My heart 's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.
Robert Burns
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Now Simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays Come let us spend the lightsome days In the birks of Aberfeldy.
Robert Burns