Robert Burns

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly boughs
Were twisted gracefu' round her brows,
I took her for some Scottish read more

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly boughs
Were twisted gracefu' round her brows,
I took her for some Scottish Muse,
By that same token,
An' come to stop those reckless vows,
Would soon be broken.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.

But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.

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

Oh, 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.