Robert Burns Quotes

To see her is to love her, And love but her forever; For Nature made her what she is, And never made anither!

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain
For promised joy!

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:

ah the power that gift would give us, to see ourselves as others see us.

Perhaps it may turn out a sang, Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!

But, oh! fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early.

My Heart's In The Highlands

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Chorus.-My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green vallies below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, &c.

John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain.

She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo'esome wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine.

The white moon is setting behind the white wave,
And Time is setting with me, O!

If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it; A chield's aman you takin' notes, And faith he'll prent it.