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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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Nature's law, That man was made to mourn. Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn! O Death, the poor man's dearest friend, The kindest and the best!
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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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Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
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But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.
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The voice of Nature loudly cries,And many a message from the skies,That something in us never dies.
Robert Burns
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But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
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Dare to be honest and fear no labor.
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While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of empires and the fall of kings While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
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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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The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.
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Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet To think how monie counsels sweet, How monie lengthened sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises.
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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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To see her is to love her, And love but her forever For nature made her what she is, And never made anither!
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Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in the morning dews.
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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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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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Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven But yet the light that led astray Was light from heaven.
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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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The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that.
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The wide world is all before us - but a world without a friend.
Robert Burns