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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.

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
Usurpers
Blow
Liberty
Dies
Every

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My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.
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Their sighing, canting, grace-proud faces, their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.
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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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Dare to be honest and fear no labor.
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Great for good, or great for evil.
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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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If naebody care for me,I'll care for naebody.
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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
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I'll be merry and free, I'll be sad for nae-body If nae-body cares for me, I'll care for nae-body.
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Nae man can tether time or tide The hour approachesTam maun ride That hour, o'night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hourTam mounts his beast in.
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God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel.
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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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For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.
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Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us
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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
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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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An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there's another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.
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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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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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The heart that is generous and kind most resembles God.
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