Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. III. Addison to Blake
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Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake
 
My Nanie, O
By Robert Burns (1759–1796)
 
BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows,
  ’Mang moors an’ mosses many, O,
The wintry sun the day has closed,
  And I ’ll awa to Nanie, O.
 
The westlin wind blaws loud an’ shill:        5
  The night ’s baith mirk and rainy, O!
But I ’ll get my plaid, an’ out I ’ll steal,
  An’ owre the hill to Nanie, O.
 
My Nanie ’s charming, sweet, an’ young;
  Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O:        10
May ill befa’ the flattering tongue
  That wad beguile my Nanie, O.
 
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
  As spotless as she ’s bonie, O:
The op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew,        15
  Nae purer is than Nanie, O.
 
A country lad is my degree,
  An’ few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be?
  I ’m welcome ay to Nanie, O.        20
 
My riches a’s my penny-fee,
  An’ I maun guide it cannie, O:
But warl’s gear ne’er troubles me,
  My thoughts are a’, my Nanie, O.
 
Our auld Guidman delights to view        25
  His sheep an’ kye thrive bonie, O;
But I ’m as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
  An’ has nae care but Nanie, O.
 
Come weal, come woe, I care na by,
  I ’ll tak what Heaven will sen’ me, O;        30
Nae ither care in life have I,
  But live, an’ love my Nanie, O.
 
 
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