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For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.

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
Farmers
Main
Gold
Ploughs
Manor
Merchant
Merchants
Farmer

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And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.
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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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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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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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Life is but a day at most.
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If naebody care for me,I'll care for naebody.
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When Nature her great masterpiece designed,And framed her last, best work, the human mind,Her eye intent on all the wondrous plan,She formed of various stuff the various Man.
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Once upon a Lammas Night When corn rigs are bonny, Beneath the Moon's unclouded light, I held awhile to Annie... The time went by with careless heed Between the late and early, With small persuasion she agreed To see me through the barley... Corn rigs and barley rigs, Corn rigs are bonny! I'll not forget that happy night Among the rigs with Annie!
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A women can make an average man great, and a great man average.
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Mankind is a science that defies definitions.
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Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, And then she made the lasses, O!
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God knows, I'm not the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be, But twenty times I rather would be An atheist clean, Than under gospel colours hid be Just for a screen.
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That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
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Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us
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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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The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that.
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His locked, lettered, braw brass collar, Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.
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