Poem by Robert Burns

The Lass of Ecclefechan

GAT ye me, O gat ye me,
  O gat ye me wi’ naething?
Rock and reel, and spinnin’ wheel,
  A mickla quarter basin.
Bye attour, my gutcher has
  A heigh house and a laigh ane,
A’ forbye, my bonnie sel’,
  The toss of Ecclefechan.

O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
  O haud your tongue and jauner;
I held the gate till you I met,
  Syne I began to wander:
I tint my whistle and my sang,
  I tint my peace and pleasure;
But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
  Wad airt me to my treasure.

1. Their Groves O’ sweet Myrtle
2. The Bonnie Wee Thing
3. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way
4. Stay My Charmer
5. The Humble Petition of Bruar Water

Print

2587 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version