Poem by Robert Burns

On Andrew Turner

IN se’enteen hunder an’ forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
  An’ cuist it in a corner;
But by and by he changed his plan,
An’ made it something like a man,
  An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner.

1. I See a Form, I See a Face
2. My Wife’s a Winsome Wee Thing
3. Mark Yonder Pomp
4. Farewell, Thou Stream
5. The Rantin’ Dog the Daddie O’t

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