Poem by Robert Burns

O Leave Novels

O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles,
  Ye’re safer at your spinning wheel;
Such witching books are baited hooks
  For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel.

Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons,
  They make your youthful fancies reel;
They heat your brains, and fire your veins,
  And then you’re prey for Rob Mossgiel.

Beware a tongue that’s smoothly hung;
  A heart that warmly seems to feel;
That feeling heart but acts a part,
  ‘Tis rakish art in Bob Mossgiel.

The frank address, the soft caress,
  Are worse than poison’d darts of steel;
The frank address, and politesse,
  Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Stay My Charmer
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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