Robert Burns Poetry Bot
@robertburnsbot.bsky.social
A delightful bot sharing snippets of Rabbie’s classic works. Poems of romance and radical liberalism.
fine a mangy sheep could scrub, Or nobly fling the gospel club, And New-Light herds could nicely drub, Or pay their skin; Could shake them o'er the
January 20, 2026 at 1:31 PM
fine a mangy sheep could scrub, Or nobly fling the gospel club, And New-Light herds could nicely drub, Or pay their skin; Could shake them o'er the
was heard thro' muir and dale, He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail, O'er a' the height, And saw gin they were sick or hale, At the first sight. He
January 20, 2026 at 7:31 AM
was heard thro' muir and dale, He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail, O'er a' the height, And saw gin they were sick or hale, At the first sight. He
ilka hole and road, Baith out and in, And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, And sell their skin. What herd like Russell tell'd his tale, His voice
January 20, 2026 at 6:35 AM
ilka hole and road, Baith out and in, And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid, And sell their skin. What herd like Russell tell'd his tale, His voice
Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,-- O sic a feast! The thummart, wil'-cat, brock, and tod, Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood, He smelt their
January 20, 2026 at 12:35 AM
Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,-- O sic a feast! The thummart, wil'-cat, brock, and tod, Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood, He smelt their
their guide. What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank, Sae hale and hearty every shank, Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank, He let them taste, Frae
January 19, 2026 at 6:35 PM
their guide. What flock wi' Moodie's flock could rank, Sae hale and hearty every shank, Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank, He let them taste, Frae
ha'e expeckit Your duty ye wad sae negleckit, Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit, To wear the plaid, But by the brutes themselves eleckit, To be
January 19, 2026 at 12:35 PM
ha'e expeckit Your duty ye wad sae negleckit, Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit, To wear the plaid, But by the brutes themselves eleckit, To be
bustle, Ye'll see how New-Light herds will whistle And think it fine: The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twistle Sin' I ha'e min'. O, sirs! whae'er wad
January 19, 2026 at 6:35 AM
bustle, Ye'll see how New-Light herds will whistle And think it fine: The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twistle Sin' I ha'e min'. O, sirs! whae'er wad
simmers past, O! dool to tell, Ha'e had a bitter black out-cast Atween themsel. O, Moodie, man, and wordy Russell, How could you raise so vile a
January 19, 2026 at 12:57 AM
simmers past, O! dool to tell, Ha'e had a bitter black out-cast Atween themsel. O, Moodie, man, and wordy Russell, How could you raise so vile a
Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks, About the dykes? The twa best herds in a' the wast, That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast, These five and twenty
January 18, 2026 at 6:57 PM
Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks, About the dykes? The twa best herds in a' the wast, That e'er ga'e gospel horn a blast, These five and twenty
THE TWA HERDS: OR, THE HOLY TULZIE. O a' ye pious godly flocks, Weel fed on pastures orthodox, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or worrying tykes,
January 18, 2026 at 12:57 PM
THE TWA HERDS: OR, THE HOLY TULZIE. O a' ye pious godly flocks, Weel fed on pastures orthodox, Wha now will keep you frae the fox, Or worrying tykes,
The auld kirk-hammer strak' the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal, Which rais'd us baith: I took the way that pleas'd mysel', And sae did Death.
January 18, 2026 at 6:57 AM
The auld kirk-hammer strak' the bell Some wee short hour ayont the twal, Which rais'd us baith: I took the way that pleas'd mysel', And sae did Death.
o't; I'll nail the self-conceited sot, As dead's a herrin': Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, He gets his fairin'!" But just as he began to tell,
January 18, 2026 at 12:57 AM
o't; I'll nail the self-conceited sot, As dead's a herrin': Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, He gets his fairin'!" But just as he began to tell,
an' slay, An's weel paid for't; Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, Wi' his d--mn'd dirt: "But, hark! I'll tell you of a plot, Though dinna ye be speaking
January 17, 2026 at 6:57 PM
an' slay, An's weel paid for't; Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, Wi' his d--mn'd dirt: "But, hark! I'll tell you of a plot, Though dinna ye be speaking
sent her aff to her lang hame, To hide it there. "That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way; Thus goes he on from day to day, Thus does he poison, kill,
January 17, 2026 at 12:57 PM
sent her aff to her lang hame, To hide it there. "That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way; Thus goes he on from day to day, Thus does he poison, kill,
himsel. "A bonnie lass, ye kend her name, Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame; She trusts hersel, to hide the shame, In Hornbook's care; _Horn_
January 17, 2026 at 12:20 PM
himsel. "A bonnie lass, ye kend her name, Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame; She trusts hersel, to hide the shame, In Hornbook's care; _Horn_
had ta'en the batts, Or some curmurring in his guts, His only son for Hornbook sets, An' pays him well. The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, Was laird
January 17, 2026 at 6:20 AM
had ta'en the batts, Or some curmurring in his guts, His only son for Hornbook sets, An' pays him well. The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, Was laird
were scarce weel bred, Gat tippence-worth to mend her head, When it was sair; The wife slade cannie to her bed, But ne'er spak mair "A countra laird
January 17, 2026 at 12:20 AM
were scarce weel bred, Gat tippence-worth to mend her head, When it was sair; The wife slade cannie to her bed, But ne'er spak mair "A countra laird
tak my aith, That Hornbook's skill Has clad a score i' their last claith, By drap an' pill. "An honest wabster to his trade, Whase wife's twa nieves
January 16, 2026 at 6:20 PM
tak my aith, That Hornbook's skill Has clad a score i' their last claith, By drap an' pill. "An honest wabster to his trade, Whase wife's twa nieves
a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh In twa-three year. "Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death, By loss o' blood or want of breath, This night I'm free to
January 16, 2026 at 12:20 PM
a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh In twa-three year. "Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death, By loss o' blood or want of breath, This night I'm free to
Johnie!" The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh, And says, "Ye need na yoke the plough, Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, Tak ye nae fear; They'll
January 16, 2026 at 12:15 PM
Johnie!" The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh, And says, "Ye need na yoke the plough, Kirkyards will soon be till'd eneugh, Tak ye nae fear; They'll
Quo' I, "If that thae news be true! His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew, Sae white and bonie, Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew; They'll ruin
January 16, 2026 at 6:15 AM
Quo' I, "If that thae news be true! His braw calf-ward whare gowans grew, Sae white and bonie, Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew; They'll ruin
mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings, Distill'd _per se_; Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings, And mony mae." "Waes me for Johnny Ged's-Hole[7] now,"
January 16, 2026 at 12:15 AM
mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings, Distill'd _per se_; Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings, And mony mae." "Waes me for Johnny Ged's-Hole[7] now,"
pease, He has't in plenty; Aqua-fortis, what you please, He can content ye. "Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, Urinus spiritus of capons; Or
January 15, 2026 at 6:15 PM
pease, He has't in plenty; Aqua-fortis, what you please, He can content ye. "Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, Urinus spiritus of capons; Or
hae; Their Latin names as fast he rattles As A B C. "Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees; True sal-marinum o' the seas; The farina of beans and
January 15, 2026 at 12:15 PM
hae; Their Latin names as fast he rattles As A B C. "Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees; True sal-marinum o' the seas; The farina of beans and
At once he tells't. "And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, He's sure to
January 15, 2026 at 12:11 PM
At once he tells't. "And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles, A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, He's sure to