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What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns and stools If honest nature made you fools.

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
Honest
Stools
Names
Jargon
Nature
Horns
School
Fools
Made
Latin
Schools
Fool
Teaching

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Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme / My barmie noddle's working prime.
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His locked, lettered, braw brass collar, Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.
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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.
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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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Their sighing, canting, grace-proud faces, their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.
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They never sought in vain that sought the Lord alright!
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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
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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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Affliction's sons are brothers in distress A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!
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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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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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Ye Hypocrites, are these your pranks To murder men and gie God thanks Desist for shame, proceed no further God won't accept your thanks for murder.
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The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly loved the lasses, O.
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent
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