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| 1 | Wee, sleekit, cowrin', tim'rous beastie, |
| 2 | O, what a panic's in thy breastie! |
| 3 | Thou need na start awa sae hasty, |
| 4 | Wi' bickering brattle! |
| 5 | I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, |
| 6 | Wi' murd'ring prattle! |
| 7 | I'm truly sorry man's dominion, |
| 8 | Has broken Nature's social union, |
| 9 | An' justifies that ill opinion, |
| 10 | Which makes thee startle |
| 11 | At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, |
| 12 | An' fellow-mortal! |
| 13 | I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; |
| 14 | What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! |
| 15 | A daimen icker in a thrave |
| 16 | 'S a sma' request; |
| 17 | I'll get blessin wi' the lave, |
| 18 | An' never miss't! |
| 19 | Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! |
| 20 | It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! |
| 21 | An' naething, now, to big a new ane, |
| 22 | O' foggage green! |
| 23 | An' bleak December's winds ensuin, |
| 24 | Baith snell an' keen! |
| 25 | Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, |
| 26 | An' weary winter comin fast, |
| 27 | An' cozie here, beneath the blast, |
| 28 | Thou thought to dwell |
| 29 | Till crash! the cruel coulter past |
| 30 | Out thro' thy cell. |
| 31 | That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble |
| 32 | Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! |
| 33 | Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, |
| 34 | But house or hald, |
| 35 | To thole the winter's sleety dribble, |
| 36 | An' cranreuch cauld! |
| 37 | But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, |
| 38 | In proving foresight may be vain; |
| 39 | The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men |
| 40 | Gang aft agley, |
| 41 | An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, |
| 42 | For promis'd joy. |
| 43 | Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! |
| 44 | The present only toucheth thee: |
| 45 | But och! I backward cast my e'e, |
| 46 | On prospects drear! |
| 47 | An' forward, tho' I canna see, |
| 48 | I guess an' fear! |
Notes
| 1. | sleekit: sleek. |
| 4. | bickerin brattle: hurrying scamper. |
| 5. | laith: loth. |
| 6. | pattle: a small spade. |
| 13 | whyles: sometimes. |
| 14. | mawn: must. |
| 15. | daimen: occasional. icker: ear of corn. a thrave: twenty-four sheaves. |
| 17. | lave: rest. |
| 20. | silly: feeble. |
| 21. | big: build. |
| 22. | foggage: coarse grass. |
| 24. | snell: piercing |
| 34. | But: without. house or hald: house or habitation |
| 35. | thole: endure |
| 36. | cranreuch: hoar frost |
| 37. | no thy lane: not alone. |
| 40. | a-gley: amiss |
Robert Burns (1759-1796), the national poet of Scotland, lived in two very different worlds - a successful poet lionized by the cultural elite of Edinburgh, he was born and bred to tenant farming and spent most of his life struggling in that occupation. In his writings, and in his private and public lives, he earned a reputation as a social rebel, and he bitterly satirized all forms of religious and political thought which he felt perpetuated inhumanity. He was also a song-writer; Auld Land Syne is among the tunes attributed to him, though he did not claim to have written it. Burns' first published volume was Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (1786), also known as the Kilmarnock edition - a more extensive Edinburgh edition was produced in 1787. He also contributed significantly to the six-volume The Scots Musical Museum (1787-1803), and to the five-volume A Select Collection of Original Scotish Airs for the Voice.
