poet Robert Burns

Robert Burns

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Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning

A Guide New-year I wish thee, Maggie!
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie:
Tho' thou's howe-backit now, an' knaggie,
I've seen the day
There could hae gaen like ony staggie,
Out-owre the lay.

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff an' crazy,
An' thy auld hide as white's a daisie,
I've seen the dappl't, sleek an' glaizie,
A bonie gray:
He should been tight that daur't to raize thee,
Ance in a day.

Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve an' swank;
An' set weel down a shapely shank,
As e'er tread yird;
An' could hae flown out-owre a stank,
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-an'-twenty year,
Sin' thou was my guid-father's mear;
He gied me thee, o' tocher clear,
An' fifty mark;
Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
An' thou was stark.

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trotting wi' your minnie:
Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an funnie,
Ye ne'er was donsie;
But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie,
An' unco sonsie.

That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride,
When ye bure hame my bonie bride:
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden air!
Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wide
For sic a pair.

Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
An' wintle like a saumont coble,
That day, ye was a jinker noble,
For heels an' win'!
An' ran them till they a' did wauble,
Far, far, behin'!

When thou an' I were young an' skeigh
An' stable-meals at fairs were dreigh,
How thou wad prance, and snore, an' skreigh
An' tak the road!
Town's-bodies ran, an' stood abeigh,
An' ca't thee mad.

When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow,
We took the road aye like a swallow:
At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow,
For pith an' speed;
But ev'ry tail thou pay't them hollow,
Whare'er thou gaed.

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle
Might aiblins waurt thee for a brattle;
But sax Scotch mile, thou try't their mettle,
An' gar't them whaizle:
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle
O' saugh or hazel.

Thou was a noble fittie-lan',
As e'er in tug or tow was drawn!
Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' gaun,
In guid March-weather,
Hae turn'd sax rood beside our han',
For days thegither.

Thou never braing't, an' fetch't, an' fliskit;
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit,
An' spread abreed thy weel-fill'd brisket,
Wi' pith an' power;
Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an' riskit
An' slypet owre.

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep,
An' threaten'd labour back to keep,
I gied thy cog a wee bit heap
Aboon the timmer:
I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep,
For that, or simmer.

In cart or car thou never reestit;
The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it;
Thou never lap, an' sten't, and breastit,
Then stood to blaw;
But just thy step a wee thing hastit,
Thou snoov't awa.

My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a',
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw;
Forbye sax mae I've sell't awa,
That thou hast nurst:
They drew me thretteen pund an' twa,
The vera warst.

Mony a sair daurk we twa hae wrought,
An' wi' the weary warl' fought!
An' mony an anxious day, I thought
We wad be beat!
Yet here to crazy age we're brought,
Wi' something yet.

An' think na', my auld trusty servan',
That now perhaps thou's less deservin,
An' thy auld days may end in starvin;
For my last fow,
A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane
Laid by for you.

We've worn to crazy years thegither;
We'll toyte about wi' ane anither;
Wi' tentie care I'll flit thy tether
To some hain'd rig,
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather,
Wi' sma' fatigue.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002
Poem Edited: Saturday, March 21, 2015

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Comments about Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning by Robert Burns

  • Upendra Aida (1/12/2018 7:27:00 PM)

    A wonderfully created poeem.

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  • Daniel B.Kelleher (1/10/2018 5:38:00 PM)

    Unusual but took some thought putting to words

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  • Michelle RobertsonMichelle Robertson (1/7/2018 5:40:00 PM)

    You are searching for something in particular but I think the language barrier may be present.

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  • Sakalabaktula SairajSakalabaktula Sairaj (1/4/2018 6:50:00 AM)

    nice one i read it i too inspired by it i will wirhte like this

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  • Jerry WellsJerry Wells (1/2/2018 8:08:00 PM)

    THIS POEM IS NOT TO BE LIKE LIFE SHOULD BE

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  • Jerry WellsJerry Wells (1/2/2018 7:36:00 PM)

    THINGS SHOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER FOR THE BOTH OF THEM BUT IT WAS NOT

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  • Edward Kofi LouisEdward Kofi Louis (12/21/2017 10:03:00 PM)

    He should been tight! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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  • Bernard F. AsuncionBernard F. Asuncion (12/21/2017 6:21:00 AM)

    Such a great write by Robert Burns👍👍👍

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  • Deepak Kumar Pattanayak (12/21/2017 3:51:00 AM)

    How can we forget a farmer who after giving plants and the corn their value do clothe and nourish us with the
    most unprofitable speculation that he seems to interfere with always...........very outstanding piece......thanks for
    shaing

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2,7 out of 5
88 total ratings
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Read poems about / on: crazy, weather, car, pride, father, power, sleep, running