Robert Burns Poems

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YOUNG JAMIE, pride of a’ the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain,
Thro’ a’ our lasses he did rove,
And reign’d resistless King of Love.


But now, wi’ sighs and starting tears,
He strays amang the woods and breirs;
Or in the glens and rocky caves,
His sad complaining dowie raves:—


“I wha sae late did range and rove,
And chang’d with every moon my love,
I little thought the time was near,
Repentance I should buy sae dear.


“The slighted maids my torments see,
And laugh at a’ the pangs I dree;
While she, my cruel, scornful Fair,
Forbids me e’er to see her mair.”

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