ROBIN is my ain gudeman, Now match him, carlins, gin ye can, For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan, But kind Robin lo'es me. To mak' my boast I'll e'en be bauld, For Robin lo'ed me young and auld, In simmer's heat, and winter's cauld, My kind Robin lo'es me. Robin he comes hame at e'en, Wi' pleasure glancin' in his een; He tells me a' he's heard and seen, And syne how he lo'es me. There's some ha'e land, and some ha'e gowd, Mair wad ha'e them gin they cou'd, But a' I wish o' warld's gude Is Robin aye to lo'e me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER SONNET TO TARTAR, A TERRIER BEAUTY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES EPITAPH FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALEXANDER POPE FANTAISIES DECORATIVES: 2. LES BALLOONS by OSCAR WILDE PLUTARCH by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS ZEUS TOO IS A VICTIM by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS POLYHYMNIA: VERSES TO LORD NORREYS, SELECTION by WILLIAM BASSE |