Robert Burns

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine.

But pleasures are like poppies spread;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
Or like the read more

But pleasures are like poppies spread;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white--then melts forever.

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet read more

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For its like a baumy kiss o'er her sweet bonnie mou'!