HERE’S to thy health, my bonie lass,
  Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee;
I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
  To tell thee that I lo’e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
  But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care,
  How lang ye look about ye.
 

Thou’rt aye sae free informing me,
  Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I’ll be as free informing thee,
  Nae time hae I to tarry:
I ken thy frien’s try ilka means
  Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance,
  But fortune may betray thee.
 

I ken they scorn my low estate,
  But that does never grieve me;
For I’m as free as any he;
  Sma’ siller will relieve me.
I’ll count my health my greatest wealth,
  Sae lang as I’ll enjoy it;
I’ll fear nae scant, I’ll bode nae want,
  As lang’s I get employment.
 

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
  And, aye until ye try them,
Tho’ they seem fair, still have a care;
  They may prove waur than I am.
But at twal’ at night, when the moon shines bright,
  My dear, I’ll come and see thee;
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
  Nae travel makes him weary.

Added: Jan 3 2004 | Viewed: 733 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Robert Burns
Poem: 11. 11. Song—Here’s to thy health, my bonie lass
Volume: Poems and Songs. The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Year: Published/Written in 1780
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