Poetry of Robert Burns
Rantin’, rovin’, Robin
There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But what’n a day o’ what’n a style
I doubt it’s hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi’ Robin.
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’ rovin’, rantin’ rovin’;
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’ rovin’ Robin.
Our monarch’s hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
‘Twas then a blast o’ Janwar win’
Blew hansel in on Robin.
The gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo’ scho, Wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be nae coof,
I think we’ll ca’ him Robin.
He’ll hae misfortunes great and sma’,
But aye a heart aboon them a’;
He’ll be a credit till us a’.
We’ll a’ be proud o’ Robin.
But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin’,
So leez me on thee, Robin.
Guid faith, quo’ scho, I doubt you, Sir,
Ye gar the lasses lie aspar,
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur,
So blessings on thee, Robin!
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’ rovin’, rantin’ rovin’;
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’ rovin’ Robin.
A selection of Poems, Ballads and Songs
- Ae fond kiss
- Auld Lang Syne
- Ye Banks and Braes
- To a Mountain Daisy
- A man’s a man for a’that
- The Selkirk Grace
- Scots wha hae
- To a louse
- Address to a Haggis
- To a mouse
- Death and Doctor Hornbook
- My love is like a red red rose
- Green grow the rashes O’
- Rantin’, rovin’, Robin
- Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw
- Tam O’ Shanter