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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
Guinea
Economy
Five
Three
Work
Make
Guineas

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Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change.
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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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Nae man can tether time or tide The hour approachesTam maun ride That hour, o'night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hourTam mounts his beast in.
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An honest man here lies at rest, the friend of man the friend of truth the friend of age and guide of youth. Few hearts like his with virtue warmed, few heads with knowledge so informed. If there's another world, he lives in bliss. If there is none, he made the best of this.
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O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent
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Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
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To step aside is human.
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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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Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.
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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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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
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Beauty's of a fading nature. Has a season and is gone!
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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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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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Now's the day and now's the hour.
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I'm truly sorry man's dominion has broken Nature's social union.
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How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.
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The voice of Nature loudly cries,And many a message from the skies,That something in us never dies.
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What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
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