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Poem by Robert Burns * * * HERE’S to thy health, my bonnie lass! Gude night, and joy be wi’ thee! I’ll come nae mair to thy bower door, To tell thee that I lo’e thee. O dinna think, my pretty pink, But I can live without thee: I vow and swear I dinna care How lang ye look about ye. Thou’rt aye sae free informing me Thou hast nae mind to marry; I’ll be as free informing thee Nae time hae I to tarry. I ken thy friends try ilka means Frae wedlock to delay thee, Depending on some higher chance- But fortune may betray thee. I ken they scorn my low estate, But that does never grieve me; For I’m as free as any he,- Sma’ siller will relieve me. I count my health my greatest wealth, Sae lang as I’ll enjoy it: I’ll fear nae scant, I’ll bode nae want, As lang’s I get employment. But far-aff fowls hae feathers fair, And aye until ye try them: Tho’ they seem fair, still have a care, They may prove waur than I am. But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, My dear, I’ll come and see thee; For the man that lo’es his mistress weel, Nae travel makes him weary. 1780 Robert Burns Robert Burns's other poems:
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