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Poem by Robert Burns


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  MY ladys gown theres gairs upont,
  And gowden flowers sae rare upont;
  But Jennys jimps and jirkinet,
  My lord thinks muckle mair upont.

My lord a-hunting he is gane,
But hounds or hawks wi him are nane,
By Colins cottage lies his game,
If Colins Jenny be at hame.

My ladys white, my ladys red,
And kith and kin o Cassillis blude,
But her ten-pund lands o tocher guid
Were a the charms his lordship loed.

Out oer yon muir, out oer yon moss,
Where gor-cocks thro the heather pass,
There wons auld Colins bonnie lass,
A lily in a wilderness.

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,
Like music notes o lovers hymns:
The diamond dew in her een sae blue,
Where laughing love sae wanton swims.

My ladys dink, my ladys drest,
The flower and fancy o the west;
But the lassie that a man loes best,
O thats the lass to make him blest.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Mark Yonder Pomp
  2. By Allan Stream
  3. Theres News, Lasses
  4. Scroggam
  5. Theres a Youth in This City


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