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Poem by Isabel Pagan


On Burns and Ramsay


Now Burns and Ramsay both are dead.
Although I cannot them succeed;
Yet here Ill try my natural skill,
And hope you will not take it ill.

You know their learning was not sma,
And mine is next to nae at a.
Their must be brighter than mine,
Because Im much on the decline.

I hope the public will excuse
What I have done here by my Muse.
As different men are of different minds,
My metre is of different kinds.



Isabel Pagan

Poem Theme: Robert Burns

Isabel Pagan's other poems:
  1. Account of the Authors Lifetime
  2. Skit on an Old Huntsman
  3. Muirkirk Light Weights
  4. Ca the Yowes to the Knowes
  5. The Crook and Plaid


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