Quote

See Social-life and Glee sit down, All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown Debauchery and Drinking

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
Quite
Unthinking
Social
Debauchery
Change
Glee
Life
Joyous
Moderation
Grown
Till
Drinking

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The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
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Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--Robert Burns
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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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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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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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Dare to be honest and fear no labor.
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Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme / My barmie noddle's working prime.
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To make three guineas do the work of five.
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When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.
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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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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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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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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
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If there 's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he 'll prent it.
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Some books are lies frae end to end.
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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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Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?
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O Life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!
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