Fit kinda cheil wis Rabbie Burns?
They speired in the kintra skweel
'He wis a fermer an a poet
Soul bared, wi nocht concealed.'
‘An wis he kind or wis he coorse, '
They speired o this plooman bard
'He wis a cheil like aa the lave
His life wis short bit hard.'
Sae mony quines he wooed an won
Bit times were different then
An lassies syne war easy bairned
That were ower free wi men
‘Fit wye is he mindit warld wide
Whyle ithers are forgotten? '
'He spakk oot for the common man
The puir an the misbegotten
His sangs could gar the cauldest, thaw
Till their chikks war aa begrutten'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem