Burns.

By R. Lennox

Lang years hae passed since Januar’s win’

Brocht hansel wi’ oor Robin in,

An noo a bright, bright star abune

Is Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.

The Muse her mantle roon’ him threw

Tae sing her praises at the ploo,

An’ Nature’s croon adorned the broo

O’ Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.

There’s no an airt the win’ can blaw

But there you’ll find, in cot and ha’,

The dearest name tae ane an’ a’

Is Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.

Where’er the Scottish sang is sung

Where’er is heard the Scottish tongue

There’s loyal praise frae auld and young

For Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.

An’ when the winter had begun,

In ilka stead there wis some fun,

An’ mony a braw lass wooed an’ won

Ower some wee lilt by Rabbie.

An’ when drawing near to Halloween,

When they were pu’in’ stalks at e’en,

An’ dancin’ reels wi’ mony a quean,

As done by Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.

That Nature’s Poet of days of yore

That brought love and mirth tae ilka door.

An’ left memories dear

O’ Scotland’s Bard—oor Rabbie.