Robert Burns

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin'-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o' a grace As lang's my arm.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress; A brother to relieve,—how exquisite the bliss!

The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.

John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all.

Some wee short hours ayont the twal.

I was na fou, but just had plenty.

Some books are lies frae end to end.

Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent among the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O: Her prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses, O.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An 'twerna for the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent amang the lasses, O.

An' fareweel dear, deluding woman, The joy of joys!

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun.

Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, My barmie noddle's working prime.

There's some are fou o' love divine; There's some are fou o' brandy.

Leeze me on drink! it gi'es us mair Than either school or college.

Here, some are thinkin' on their sins, An' some upo' their claes.

O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!

O Life! how pleasant is thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning! Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like schoolboys at th' expected warning, To joy and play.

What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.

An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended!

I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But, Och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!

Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Freedom and Whisky gang thegither.