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Poem by Robert Burns


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THERES a youth in this city, it were a great pity
  That he from our lasses should wander awa;
For hes bonnie and braw, weel favourd witha,
  And his hair has a natural buckle and a.
His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;
  His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw;
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
  And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a.

For beauty and fortune the laddies been courtin;
  Weel-featurd, weel-tocherd, weel-mounted and braw;
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her,
  The pennys the jewel that beautifies a.
Theres Meg wi the mailin, that fain wad a haen him,
  And Susy whase daddy was Laird o the ha;
Theres lang-tocherd Nancy maist fetters his fancy,
  -But the laddies dear sel he loes dearest of a.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. The Recovery of Miss Jessy Lewars
  2. On Himself
  3. Thine Am I
  4. The Heather Was Blooming
  5. Damon And Sylvia


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