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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
Ploughs
Manor
Merchant
Merchants
Farmer
Farmers
Main
Gold

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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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Their sighing, canting, grace-proud faces, their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.
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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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The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature: Yet ne'er with wits profane to range Be complaisance extendedAn atheist laugh's a poor exchange For deity offended.
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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.
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Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?
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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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The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
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As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.
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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.
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Some books are lies frae end to end.
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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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But deep this truth impressed my mind — Thro' all his works abroad, The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.
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Anticipation forward points the view.
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Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now 's the day and now 's the hour See the front o' battle lour.
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Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us
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God knows, I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.
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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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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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Mankind is a science that defies definitions.
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