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'To a Mouse ' (Scots: Tae a Moose) is a Scots poem written bi Robert Burns in 1785 that wis includit in the Kilmarnock Volume, his first settin furth o musradry. Burns wrate the poem efter, as the poem suggests, turnin up the wuinter nest o a moose that wis on his ferm wi his pleuch.
The Selkirk Grace is a prayer said afore eatin that's event tae Robert Burns: [1] Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it, But we hae meat and we can eat, Sae let the Lord be Thankit! On page 173 o The complete works of Robert Burns (Gebbie Sel-interpretin edeetion in 6 volumms furthset bi Bigelow, Brown & Co., ...
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Auld Lang Syne. 'Auld Lang Syne ' is a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1788 an set tae the tuin o a tradeetional fowk sang. It is weel kent warldwide an is aften sang for tae celebrate the stairt o the new year at the straik o midnicht on Ne'er's Day.
Comin' Thro' the Rye. 'Comin' Thro' the Rye' is a poem written in 1782 bi Robert Burns (1759–96). The wirds are aften pit tae the melody o the Scottish sang "Common' Frae The Town", verra seemilar tae the tune o Auld Lang Syne. This Robert Burns relatit airticle is a . Ye can help Wikipaedia bi .
Scots Wha hae wi' Wallace Bled Scots Wha Hae is a poem/sang at wis written bi Robert Burns in 1793 tae mimic a speak gien bi Robert the Brus tae his airmy afore the Battle o Bannockburn in 1314. Tho Burns scrived the wirds, the muisic is gey auld (the tuin is Hey Tuttie Tattie that legend hauds wis played by the Scots airmy afore the battle). ...
Cauld Kail in Aberdeen. The "Scots" that wis uised in this airticle wis written bi a body that haesna a guid grip on the leid. Please mak this airticle mair better gin ye can. 'There's cauld Kail in Aiberdeen ' is a poem colleckit bi Robert Burns, frae the Scotland period. [1] It is etherly kent bi the name o 'There's cauld kail in Aberdeen ...
Gree grew the rashes, O (or "Green grew the rashes, O") is a poem bi Robert Burns, aboot the rashes an their beauty o whit he wis amoureus (in luv). Lyrics. Gree Grow The Rashes, O. Owerwird. Gree grew the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, Are spent among the lasses, O. 1. There's nocht but care on ev'ry han',
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