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  • Robert Burns
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Robert Burns

from Don Juan - by George Gordon, Lord Byron

{ Poem }

It may seem a schoolboy’s whine,
And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty,
But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred
A whole one, and my heart flies to my head.

Healings 2 - by Kathleen Jamie

{ Poem }

At midnight the north sky is blues and greys, with a thin fissure of citrine just above the horizon. It’s light when you wake, regardless of the hour. At 2 or 4 or 6am, you breathe light into your body. A rose, a briar rose. A wild rose and its thorned stem. What did Burns […]

Sanctified - by Stuart A. Paterson

{ Poem }

Scotland where can we find you, / where are you hiding your gallus self?…

Rabbie, Rabbie, Burning Bright - by W. N. Herbert

{ Poem }

Atween November’s end and noo
/ there’s really nithin else tae do
/ but climb inside a brindlet coo
/ …

On Visiting the Tomb of Burns - by John Keats

{ Poem }

Burns! with honour due /I oft have honour’d thee. Great shadow, hide / Thy face; I sin against thy native…

For the Centenary of The Scotch Whisky Association - by Liz Lochhead

{ Poem }

“If freedom an whisky gang thegither”: Robert Burns
/
/ i.
/ When we sit wined and finely dined,
/ Dressed up in oor best, braw and…

Robert Burns - by William McGonagall

{ Poem }

Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr,
/ There’s but few poets can with you compare;
/ Some of your poems and songs are very fine:
/ To…

A Man’s a Man for a’ That - by Robert Burns

{ Poem }

Is there for honest Poverty
/ That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
/ The coward-slave, we pass him by,
/ We dare be poor for…

A Birl for Burns - by Seamus Heaney

{ Poem }

From the start, Burns’ birl and rhythm,
/ That tongue the Ulster Scots brought wi’ them
/ And stick to still in County Antrim
/ Was…

Address of Beelzebub - by Robert Burns

{ Poem }

To the Right Honorable The Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honorable and Honorable the
/ Highland Society, which met…

Holy Gordon’s Prayer - by Rab Wilson

{ Poem }

O Lord my God, forgie this swither,
/ pray hear thy servant in his dither.
/ Should ah bide here? or cross the river…

Aw Jock Tamson’s - by Janet Paisley

{ Poem }

Moonrise, an maudlin in the mirk,
/ we coorie in, hoose selt, hame hawked,
/ oor labour thirled tae yesterday,
/ the morra pawned fur brick-a-brack.
/
/ Thieves…

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