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To make three guineas do the work of five.

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
Work
Make
Guineas
Guinea
Economy
Five
Three

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Inspiring bold JohnBarleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
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Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.
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When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.
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Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
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What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
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My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
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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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Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.
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Yon rosebuds in the morning-dew, how pure amang the leaves sae green!
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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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Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
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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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Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his books and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil.
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Life is but a day at most.
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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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Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme / My barmie noddle's working prime.
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They never sought in vain that sought the Lord alright!
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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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Mankind is an unco squad And muckle he may grieve thee.
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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.
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