Skip to content

Scottish Poetry Library

Register/Sign in
Shopping Bag Shopping Bag
Bringing people and poems together
  • Home
  • Poetry
    • Poets
    • Poems
    • Makar – National Poet
      • Our Waking Breath: A Poem-letter from Scotland to Ukraine
      • A Woman’s A Woman
      • The story of the Makar – National Poet of Scotland
    • Best Scottish Poems
    • Spiorad an Àite
      Spirit of Place
    • The Trysting Thorns
    • Poetry Ambassadors
      Tosgairean na Bàrdachd
      • Poetry Commissions: Walter Scott 250
        Coimiseanan Bàrdachd: Walter Scott 250
      • Poetry Ambassadors 2021
    • Posters
    • Podcasts
  • Library
    • Become a borrower
    • Catalogue
    • Collections
    • Ask a librarian
    • Copyright enquiries
  • Learning
    • SQA set texts
    • Learning resources
    • Designing sensory poetry activities
    • Children’s poems in Scots
    • National Poetry Day archive
    • New to poetry?
    • Advice for poets
  • Events
    • What’s On
    • Meeting rooms and venue hire
    • Exhibitions
  • Shop
    • Poetry Highlights
    • Entropie Books
    • Stichill Marigold Press
    • Poems for Doctors, Nurses & Teachers
    • Scottish Poetry
    • Poetry Pamphlet Cards
    • Help
  • About us
    • Our story
    • Our people
    • Company Papers & Policies
    • Our projects
    • Our building
    • FAQs
    • Find us
  • Support us
    • Become a Friend
    • Donate
  • Blog
Shopping BagShopping Bag
Ask a librarian
  • Home
  • >
  • Poetry
  • >
  • Robert Burns
  • >
  • The Yellow Yellow Yorlin
Donate Donate icon Ask a Librarian Ask a Librarian icon

The Yellow Yellow Yorlin

Robert Burns

It fell on a day, in the flouery month o May
A’ on a merry merry mornin
I met a pretty maid, an unto her said
I wad fain fin yer yellow yellow yorlin
O no, young man, says she, you’re a stranger to me
An I am anither man’s darlin
Wha haes baith sheep and cous, that’s feedin in the hows
An a cock for my yellow yellow yorlin
But if I lay you doun, upon the dewy grund
You wad nae be the waur ae farthin
An that happy happy man, he never would ken
That I played wi yer yellow yellow yorlin
O fie, young man, says she, I pray you let me be
I wadnae fer five pound sterlin
My mither wid gae mad, and sae wid ma dad
If ye played wi my yellow yellow yorlin
But I tuek her by the waist, an laid her doun in haste,
Fer a’ her squakin an squallin
The lassie soon grew tame, and bade me come again
For tae play wi her yellow yellow yorlin

Robert Burns

Tags:

Burns Night Scots

About this poem

From Merry Muses o Caledonia

Share this
Facebook
Twitter
Email

Learn more

Robert Burns1759 - 1796

If ever a poet understood the character of his nation, he was Robert Burns. The language he was most fluent in wasn’t so much Scots or English – it was the language of the heart.
More about Robert Burns

Newsletter

Sign up for our regular email newsletter.
Subscribe now

Podcasts

Our audio programme of poets, poems and news for you to listen to.
Listen Now
  • Newsletter signup
  • Accessibility
  • Terms & Conditions
  • Privacy Policy
Scottish Poetry Library
5 Crichton's Close, Canongate
Edinburgh EH8 8DT
Tel: +44 (0)131 557 2876
© Scottish Poetry Library 2022.
The Scottish Poetry Library is a registered charity (No. SCO23311).
City of Edinburgh logo Green Arts Initiative logo Creative Scotland logo
Scottish Poetry Library