But shortly they will cowe the louns! 
     Some auld-light herds in neebor touns
     Are mind’t, in things they ca’ balloons,
     To tak a flight;
     An’ stay ae month amang the moons
     An’ see them right.

     Guid observation they will gie them;
     An’ when the auld moon’s gaun to lea’e them,
     The hindmaist shaird, they’ll fetch it wi’ them
     Just i’ their pouch;
     An’ when the new-light billies see them,
     I think they’ll crouch!

     Sae, ye observe that a’ this clatter
     Is naething but a “moonshine matter”;
     But tho’ dull prose-folk Latin splatter
     In logic tulyie,
     I hope we bardies ken some better
     Than mind sic brulyie.

One Night As I Did Wander

     Tune—­“John Anderson, my jo.”

One night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder Upon an auld tree root; Auld Ayr ran by before me, And bicker’d to the seas; A cushat crooded o’er me, That echoed through the braes . . . . . . .

Tho’ Cruel Fate Should Bid Us Part

     Tune—­“The Northern Lass.”

Tho’ cruel fate should bid us part, Far as the pole and line, Her dear idea round my heart, Should tenderly entwine.  Tho’ mountains, rise, and deserts howl, And oceans roar between; Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. . . . . . . .

Song—­Rantin’, Rovin’ Robin^1

     [Footnote 1:  Not published by Burns.]

     Tune—­“Daintie Davie.”

     There was a lad was born in Kyle,
     But whatna day o’ whatna style,
     I doubt it’s hardly worth the while
     To be sae nice wi’ Robin.

     Chor.—­Robin was a rovin’ boy,
     Rantin’, rovin’, rantin’, rovin’,
     Robin was a rovin’ boy,
     Rantin’, rovin’, Robin!

     Our monarch’s hindmost year but ane
     Was five-and-twenty days begun^2,
     ‘Twas then a blast o’ Janwar’ win’
     Blew hansel in on Robin. 
     Robin was, &c.

     [Footnote 2:  January 25, 1759, the date of my
      bardship’s vital existence.—­R.B.]

     The gossip keekit in his loof,
     Quo’ scho, “Wha lives will see the proof,
     This waly boy will be nae coof: 
     I think we’ll ca’ him Robin.” 
     Robin was, &c.

     “He’ll hae misfortunes great an’ sma’,
     But aye a heart aboon them a’,
     He’ll be a credit till us a’—­
     We’ll a’ be proud o’ Robin.” 
     Robin was, &c.

     “But sure as three times three mak nine,
     I see by ilka score and line,
     This chap will dearly like our kin’,
     So leeze me on thee!  Robin.” 
     Robin was, &c.

     “Guid faith,” quo’, scho, “I doubt you gar
     The bonie lasses lie aspar;
     But twenty fauts ye may hae waur
     So blessins on thee!  Robin.” 
     Robin was, &c.