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A NEW SONG
IN PRAISE Of BURNS.
IN PRAISE Of BURNS.
Lang fam’d Rab Burns ilk lassie mourns,
Aye since he’s gane awa’.
His presence did a' grief forbid.
He cheer’d the lasses a’.
Nae mr.ir he’ll chant—wi’ neighbours rant,
O’er flowing bowls at e’en,
Awa’ he’s gane to his lang hame,
And left his Bonny Jean.
His memory dear will still us cheer.
I’ll sing the praise of Burns,
Ilk laddie here and lassie dear,
Must mingle with the worms.
Uncertain man’s life’s but a span,
How oftentimes we’ve seen
The fairest flower in Nature’s bower
Kill’d in the bud when green.
You nymphs and swains amang the plains,
And birds in ilka tree.
Ye meadows green and fairy queer.
And sailors on the sea,
Loud blaw the fame o' him that’s gane,
Beside the lads in urns,
