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O Life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!

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
Rough
Thou
Road
Speech
Along
Galling
Art
Wretches
Life
Load
Weary

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Some books are lies frae end to end.
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To make three guineas do the work of five.
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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.
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How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.
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For thus the royal mandate ran, When first the human race began, The social, friendly honest man, Whate'er he be, Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, And none but he!
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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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There's some are fou o' love divine There's some are fou o' brandy.
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The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
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Affliction's sons are brothers in distress A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!
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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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A women can make an average man great, and a great man average.
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If naebody care for me,I'll care for naebody.
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Humid seal of soft affections, Tend'rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
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O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
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Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din For me, an aim I never fash I rhyme for fun.
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Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven But yet the light that led astray Was light from heaven.
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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 thankit.
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Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises.
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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