The Poetical Works of Robert Burns Volume 1

The Poetical Works of Robert Burns Volume 1

By (author) 

List price: US$19.99

Currently unavailable

Add to wishlist

AbeBooks may have this title (opens in new window).

Try AbeBooks

Description

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1839 edition. Excerpt: ...like wrath, requested to hear it. He smiled grimly at the relation of his exploits, and then cried out, ' I'm no dead yet, Robin, --I'm worth ten dead fowk; wherefore should ye say that I am dead V Burns took the hint, retired to the window for a minute or so, and, coming back, recited the 'Per Contra;' with which Tam was so delighted, that he rose unconsciously, rubbed his hands, and exclaimed, 'That'll do--ha, ha--.that'll do.' He survived the Poet, and 'the epitaph' is inscribed on his grave in Kilmarnock churchyard."--Allan Cunningham. These verses were first printed in the second edition. t A certain preacher, a great favourite with the million. Vide the Ordination, stanza ii. R, B. $ Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him, see also the Ordination, stanza ix. R. B. Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane, An' sigh, an' sab, an' greet her lane, An' cleed her bairns, man, wife, an' wean, In mourning weed; To Death, she's dearly paid the kane, Tam Samson's dead! The Brethren o' the mystic level May hing their head in woefu' bevel, While by their nose the tears will revel, Like ony bead; Death's gien the Lodge an unco devel, Tam Samson's dead! When Winter muffles up his cloak, And binds the mire like a rock; When to the loughs the Curlers flock Wi' gleesome speed, Wha will they station at the cock, Tam Samson's dead? He was the king of a' the Core, To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, Or up the rink like Jehu roar In time o' need; But now he lags on Death's hog-score, Tam Samson's dead! Now safe the stately Sawmont sail, And Trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail, And Eels weel ken'd for souple tail, And Geds for greed, Since dark in Death's fish-creel we wail Tam Samson dead! Rejoice, ye birring...show more

Product details

  • Paperback | 76 pages
  • 189 x 246 x 4mm | 154g
  • Rarebooksclub.com
  • Miami Fl, United States
  • English
  • black & white illustrations
  • 1236487095
  • 9781236487094