TO Burns! Brave Scotia's laurel'd son, Who drove his plough on Helicon; Who with his doric rhyme erewhile Taught English bards to mend their style; And by the humour of his pen Fairly befool'd old Nickie-ben! Blithe Robbie Burns, we love thee well Because thou wert so like thysel': And in full cups with festive cheer We toast thy fame from year to year. |