Robert Anderson Poems

Now, Nanny, in thy fifteenth year,
Tak tent, an' listen my advice;
Tho' thou canst boast nae lands or gear;
Yet thou'lt hae wooers in a trice.
...

Sweet is thy carol, soaring Lark!
Rejoicing nature bids thee sing;
Thy eager flight I fondly mark,
Blithe messenger of welcome Spring:
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That Fortune's fickle I ne'er doubt;
An' if she weel can see,
She maun be daft beyond dispute,
To smile on ane like thee.
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Ah! Youth, how soon thy joys are flown!
The fond delights we scarcely own,
Ere sorrow dims each prospect fair;
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`It's a comical warl this we live in,'
Says Calep, and Calep says reet;
For Matty, that's got aw the money,
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If you ax where I come frae, I say the fell seyde,
Where fadder and mudder, and honest fwok beyde;
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When lav'rocks were singin', and gowans were springin',
Young Will o' the Glen cam a wooin' to me!
My heart how it panted, he sought me, 'twas gran ...
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Now, Kate, full forty years ha'e flown,
Sin we met on the green;
Frae that to this the saut, saut tear
Has oft stuid i' my een:
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Young Susy is a bonny lass,
A canny lass, a teydey lass,
A mettled lass, a hearty lass,
As onie yen can see;
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Near Lagan's banks, a mile from town,
A rural whiten'd cottage stands;
The hamlets, halls, and hills of Down,
...