Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

ONE night as I did wander,
  When corn begins to shoot,
I sat me down to ponder,
  Upon an auld tree root:

Auld Ayr ran by before me,
  And bicker’d to the seas;
A cushat crooded o’er me
  That echoed thro’ the braes.

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
3. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
4. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
5. The Bonnie Wee Thing

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