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Poem by Robert Burns


The Ploughman


THE ploughman hes a bonnie lad,
  His mind is ever true, jo,
His garters knit below his knee,
  His bonnet it is blue, jo.

Then up wit a, my ploughman lad,
  And hey, my merry ploughman;
Of a the trades that I do ken,
  Commend me to the ploughman.

My ploughman he comes hame at een.
  Hes aften wat and weary;
Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
  And gae to bed, my Dearie!

I will wash my ploughmans hose,
  And I will dress his oerlay;
I will mak my ploughmans bed,
  And cheer him late and early.

I hae been east, I hae been west,
  I hae been at Saint Johnston;
The bonniest sight that eer I saw
  Was the ploughman laddie dancin.

Snaw-white stockins on his legs,
  And siller buckles glancin;
A gude blue bonnet on his head,
  And O, but he was handsome!

Commend me to the barn-yard.
  And the corn-mow, man;
I never gat my coggie fou
  Till I met wi the ploughman.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Scroggam
  2. The First Psalm
  3. Lines Written on a Bank-note
  4. Lines Written at Loudon Manse
  5. To Alex Cunningham, Writer


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Gordon Bottomley The Ploughman ("UNDER the long fell's stony eaves")

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