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There's some are fou o' love divine There's some are fou o' brandy.

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
Brandy
Drinking
Divine
Love

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O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
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And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair. Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair.
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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.
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My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.
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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 there 's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he 'll prent it.
Robert Burns
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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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Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.
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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
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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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Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
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O Life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!
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And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway, And mind your duty, duly, morn and night Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright.
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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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Yon rosebuds in the morning-dew, how pure amang the leaves sae green!
Robert Burns
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The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie, For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Robert Burns
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Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
Robert Burns
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The best plans of men and mice often go awry.
Robert Burns
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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
Robert Burns
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That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.
Robert Burns