Poem by Robert Burns

Tho’ Cruel Fate

THO’ cruel fate should bid us part,
  Wide as the pole and line;
Her dear idea round my heart
  Should tenderly entwine.

Tho’ mountains rise and deserts howl,
  And oceans roar between;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
  I still would love my Jean.

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

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