Robert Burns

Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.

Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.

John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
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John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent.

O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as ithers see us!
It wad read more

O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as ithers see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us.
And foolish notion;
What airs in dress and gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n devotion!

Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
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Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
In scented bowers!
Ye roses on your thorny tree
The first o' flow'rs.

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn read more

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
Twined amorous round the raptures scene.