To Robert Burns

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A tribute to my favourite poet, the Bard of Scotland .

Submitted: June 16, 2007

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Submitted: June 16, 2007

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January, cold was biting hard ,
The wind began to whistle
My muse was on the ayrshire bard,
The haggis,mouse and thistle,
That red red rose his own true love
Jean Armour,fair and sweet.
Surely now in heaven above,
He worshipped at her feet.

Blessed only by his scottish birth
His days were filled with toil,
A ploughman to his wee bit earth,
Harsh unforgiving soil,
But end of day would his soul inspire,
His pen was glad to take,
And the labourer worthy of his hire,
Sweeter verse and song did make.

He told his tales of love in rhyme,
Witches, ghosts and Tam O` Shanter,
They still today like sprigs of thyme,
Add fragrance to lifes banter.
His song of Auld Lang Syne goes on,
And as the world turns,
It`s a better place for gods good grace
And the birth of Robert Burns.




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