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Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

  ROBIN shure in hairst,
    I shure wi him;
  Fient a heuk had I,
    Yet I stack by him.

I gaed up to Dunse,
  To warp a wab o plaiden;
At his daddies yett,
  Wha met me but Robin?

Was na Robin bauld,
  Tho I was a cotter,
Playd me sick a trick
  And me the ellers dochter?

Robin promisd me
  A my winter vittle;
Fient haet he had but three
  Goose feathers and a whittle.

Robert Burns

Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. The Cairds Second Song
  2. The Sailors Song
  3. Had I The Wyte
  4. The Rantin Dog the Daddie Ot
  5. The Toast

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