Robert Burns

(1759-1796 / Ayrshire / Scotland)

Robert Burns Poems

481. Green Grow The Rashes 1/13/2003
482. Halloween 1/1/2004
483. A Fiddler In The North 1/1/2004
484. Willie Wastle 12/31/2002
485. Scotch Drink 12/31/2002
486. A Poets's Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter 5/13/2001
487. To A Louse 12/31/2002
488. Carigieburn Wood 5/13/2001
489. Song—Composed in Spring 5/13/2001
490. Coming Through The Rye 1/13/2003
491. Highland Mary 5/13/2001
492. A Dedication 1/1/2004
493. Address To The Unco Guid 1/1/2004
494. Auld Farmer's New-Year-Morning 12/31/2002
495. To A Kiss 12/31/2002
496. Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear 5/13/2001
497. Afton Water 5/13/2001
498. Address To The Devil 5/13/2001
499. Address To The Tooth-Ache 5/13/2001
500. Tam O' Shanter 12/31/2002
501. Address To A Haggis 12/31/2002
502. A Bard's Epitaph 1/1/2004
503. Ae Fond Kiss 5/13/2001
504. A Dream 1/1/2004
505. A Bottle And Friend 1/1/2004
506. My Heart's In The Highlands 1/13/2003
507. To A Mouse 12/31/2002
508. Auld Lang Syne 5/13/2001
509. A Winter Night 5/13/2001
510. A Man's A Man For A' That 5/13/2001
511. A Fond Kiss 1/3/2003
512. A Red, Red Rose 5/13/2001

Comments about Robert Burns

  • Ted Mohr (12/11/2009 11:35:00 AM)

    Your copy of Robert Burns' A Man's a Man for A' That appears to me to have left out one line in the final stanza which when entered would make the 5th and 6th lines read:
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    It’s cuming yet, for a' that,

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Best Poem of Robert Burns

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

Chorus - For auld land syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Chorus...

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.

Chorus...

We twa hae ...

Read the full of Auld Lang Syne

To A Louse

On Seeing One on a Lady's Bonnet at Church

Ha! whare ye gaun' ye crowlin ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace,
Tho faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.

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