Poem by Robert Burns

O Why the Deuce

O WHY the deuce should I repine,
  And be an ill foreboder?
I’m twenty-three, and five feet nine-
  I’ll go and be a sodger.

I gat some gear wi’ meikle care,
  I held it weel thegither;
But now it’s gane and something mair
  I’ll go and be a sodger.

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

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