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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. To Dr. Maxwell, on Miss Jessy Staigs Recovery
  2. Had I The Wyte
  3. Evan Banks
  4. The Fete Champetre
  5. The Rantin Dog the Daddie Ot

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

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

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