The Banks o' Doon, by Robert Burns
Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye l...
Poems by Robert Burns
John Anderson My Jo, by Robert Burns
John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
You...
Of A' the Airts the Wind Can Blaw, by Robert Burns
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonie lassie lives,
...
A Red, Red Rose, by Robert Burns
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the mel...
Tam o' Shanter, by Robert Burns
WHEN chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet,
As market-days are...