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Poem by Robert Burns

Auld Rob Morris

Theres auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
Hes the king o gude fellows and wale of auld men,
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

Shes fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
Shes sweet as the evning amang the new hay;
As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my ee.

But oh! shes an heirees, auld Robins a laird,
And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane:
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

O had she but been of a lower degree,
I then might hae hoped she wad smiled upon me;
O how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!

Robert Burns

Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. John Bushbys Lamentation. Third Ballad
  2. The Heron Ballads. First Ballad
  3. The Election. Second Ballad
  4. An Excellent New Song. Fourth Ballad (May 1796)
  5. When Guildford Good Our Pilot Stood

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