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Willie Chalmers.

By Robert Burns

Topics: classic

I.         Wi' braw new branks in mickle pride,             And eke a braw new brechan,         My Pegasus I'm got astride,             And up Parnassus pechin;         Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush             The doitie beastie stammers;         Then up he gets and off he sets             For sake o' Willie Chalmers. II.         I doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd name             May cost a pair o' blushes;         I am nae stranger to your fame,             Nor his warm urged wishes.         Your bonnie face sae mild and sweet             His honest heart enamours,         And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,             Tho' waired on Willie Chalmers. III.         Auld Truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,             And Honour safely back her,         And Modesty assume your air,             And ne'er a ane mistak' her:         And sic twa love-inspiring een             Might fire even holy Palmers;         Nae wonder then they've fatal been             To honest Willie Chalmers. IV.         I doubt na fortune may you shore             Some mim-mou'd pouthered priestie,         Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore,             And band upon his breastie:         But Oh! what signifies to you             His lexicons and grammars;         The feeling heart's the royal blue,             And that's wi' Willie Chalmers. V.         Some gapin' glowrin' countra laird,             May warstle for your favour;         May claw his lug, and straik his beard,             And hoast up some palaver.         My bonnie maid, before ye wed             Sic clumsy-witted hammers,         Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelp             Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers. VI.         Forgive the Bard! my fond regard             For ane that shares my bosom,         Inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues,             For de'il a hair I roose him.         May powers aboon unite you soon,             And fructify your amours,         And every year come in mair dear             To you and Willie Chalmers.

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Author:Robert Burns

"I...." by Robert Burns

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Robert Burns

About Robert Burns

Robert Burns (1759–1796) was Scotland's national poet, celebrated worldwide on Burns Night. He wrote in Scots and English, producing poems like "Auld Lang Syne," "A Red, Red Rose," and "To a Mouse," championing democratic values and the dignity of common people.

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