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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 2h

rowte out-owre the dale, Because thy pasture's scanty; For lapfu's large o' gospel kail Shall fill thy crib in plenty, An' runts o' grace the pick and

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 8h

the breed, Gie them sufficient threshin', Spare them nae day. Now, auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail, And toss thy horns fu' canty; Nae mair thou'lt

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 14h

stipend is a carnal weed He taks but for the fashion; And gie him o'er the flock, to feed, And punish each transgression; Especial, rams that cross

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 14h

Zipporah,[17] the scauldin' jad, Was like a bluidy tiger I' th' inn that day. There, try his mettle on the creed, And bind him down wi' caution, That

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 20h

vigour, How graceless Ham[15] leugh at his dad, Which made Canaan a niger; Or Phineas[16] drove the murdering blade, Wi' wh-re-abhorring rigour; Or

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

wrang her, For Heresy is in her pow'r, And gloriously she'll whang her Wi' pith this day. Come, let a proper text be read, An' touch it aff wi'

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

An' lilt wi' holy clangor; O' double verse come gie us four, An' skirl up the Bangor: This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, Nae mair the knaves shall

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

he's the boy will blaud her! He'll clap a shangan on her tail, An' set the bairns to daud her Wi' dirt this day. Mak haste an' turn King David owre,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

that imp o' hell, Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder;[14] But Oliphant aft made her yell, An' Russell sair misca'd her; This day Mackinlay taks the flail, And

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

Laigh Kirk, ane an' a', An' there tak up your stations; Then aff to Begbie's in a raw, An' pour divine libations For joy this day. Curst Common-Sense,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

THE ORDINATION. Kilmarnock wabsters fidge an' claw, An' pour your creeshie nations; An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, Of a' denominations, Swith to the

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

An' monie jobs that day begin May end in houghmagandie Some ither day.

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

o' lasses! Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane, As saft as ony flesh is. There's some are fou o' love divine; There's some are fou o' brandy;

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

their shoon: Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, They're a' in famous tune For crack that day. How monie hearts this day converts O' sinners and

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

tow, Begins to jow an' croon; Some swagger hame, the best they dow, Some wait the afternoon. At slaps the billies halt a blink, Till lasses strip

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

be mindfu' ance yoursel How bonnie lads ye wanted, An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel, Let lasses be affronted On sic a day! Now Clinkumbell, wi' ratlin

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

that day. Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass, Or lasses that hae naething; Sma' need has he to say a grace, Or melvie his braw claithing! O wives,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

shyer. The auld guidmen, about the grace, Frae side to side they bother, Till some ane by his bonnet lays, An' gi'es them't like a tether, Fu' lang

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

lunches, An' dawds that day. In comes a gaucie, gash guidwife, An' sits down by the fire, Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife; The lasses they are

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

were a' dismist: How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups, Amang the furms an' benches: An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, Was dealt about in

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

'Twas but some neibor snorin' Asleep that day. 'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell How monie stories past, An' how they crowded to the yill, When they

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 02/10/2026

scorchin' heat, Wad melt the hardest whunstane! The half asleep start up wi' fear, An' think they hear it roarin', When presently it does appear,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

dwell, Our vera sauls does harrow[13] Wi' fright that day. A vast, unbottom'd boundless pit, Fill'd fou o' lowin' brunstane, Wha's ragin' flame, an'

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

the shouts: Black Russell is na' sparin': His piercing words, like Highlan' swords, Divide the joints and marrow; His talk o' Hell, where devils

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

i' the neuk, An' formin' assignations To meet some day. But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts, Till a' the hills are rairin', An' echoes back return

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

round the table, weel content, An' steer about the toddy. On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk, They're making observations; While some are cozie

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

potion, It never fails, on drinking deep, To kittle up our notion By night or day. The lads an' lasses, blythely bent To mind baith saul an' body, Sit

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

mair Than either school or college: It kindles wit, it waukens lair, It pangs us fou' o' knowledge, Be't whisky gill, or penny wheep, Or any stronger

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

lang, Wi' logic, an' wi' scripture, They raise a din, that, in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on drink! it gies us

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

fills, Wi' yill-caup commentators: Here's crying out for bakes and gills, An' there the pint-stowp clatters; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an'

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

manse, So, cannily he hums them; Altho' his carnal wit an' sense Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him At times that day. Now but an' ben, the Change-house

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

neist the guard relieves, An' orthodoxy raibles, Tho' in his heart he weel believes, An' thinks it auld wives' fables: But faith! the birkie wants a

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

o' God, An' meek an' mim has view'd it, While Common-Sense has ta'en the road, An' aff, an' up the Cowgate,[12] Fast, fast, that day. Wee Miller,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

day. In guid time comes an antidote Against sic poison'd nostrum; For Peebles, frae the water-fit, Ascends the holy rostrum: See, up he's got the word

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

out o' season. Like Socrates or Antonine, Or some auld pagan heathen, The moral man he does define, But ne'er a word o' faith in That's right that

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

the jars an' barrels A lift that day. What signifies his barren shine, Of moral pow'rs and reason? His English style, an' gestures fine, Are a' clean

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

real judges rise, They canna sit for anger. Smith opens out his cauld harangues, On practice and on morals; An' aff the godly pour in thrangs, To gie

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

the heart devout, Like cantharidian plasters, On sic a day. But hark! the tent has chang'd its voice: There's peace an' rest nae langer: For a' the

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

calm, now wild in wrath, He's stampin an' he's jumpin'! His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd-up snout, His eldritch squeel and gestures, Oh, how they fire

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Moodie's face, To's ain het hame had sent him Wi' fright that day. Hear how he clears the points o' faith Wi' ratlin' an' wi' thumpin'! Now meekly

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

For Moodie speeds the holy door, Wi' tidings o' damnation. Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 'Mang sons o' God present him, The vera sight o'

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

compose him; Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, An's loof upon her bosom, Unkenn'd that day. Now a' the congregation o'er Is silent expectation;

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

wonder that it pride him! Wha's ain dear lass that he likes best, Comes clinkin' down beside him; Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, He sweetly does

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

Wi' screw'd up grace-proud faces; On that a set o' chaps at watch, Thrang winkin' on the lasses To chairs that day. O happy is that man an' blest! Nae

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

thinkin' on their sins, An' some upo' their claes; Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, Anither sighs an' prays: On this hand sits a chosen swatch,

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

titlin' jades, Wi' heaving breast and bare neck, An' there's a batch o' wabster lads, Blackguarding frae Kilmarnock For fun this day. Here some are

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

shed to fend the show'rs, An' screen our countra gentry, There, racer Jess, and twa-three wh-res, Are blinkin' at the entry. Here sits a raw of

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

show, On ev'ry side they're gath'rin', Some carrying dails, some chairs an' stools, An' some are busy blethrin' Right loud that day. Here stands a

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

by the plate we set our nose, Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws, An' we maun draw our tippence. Then in we go to see the

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Robert Burns Poetry Bot @robertburnsbot.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

skelpin barefit, thrang, In silks an' scarlets glitter; Wi' sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang, An' farls bak'd wi' butter, Fu' crump that day. When

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