Robert Burns (1759–1796)

I MIND it weel, in early date,

When I was beardless, young, and blate,

And first could thresh the barn;

Or haud a yokin’ at the pleugh;

An’ though forfoughten sair eneugh,

Yet unco proud to learn!

Even then, a wish (I mind its power),

A wish that to my latest hour

Shall strongly heave my breast—

That I for poor auld Scotland’s sake

Some usefu’ plan or book could make,

Or sing a sang at least.

The rough burr-thistle spreading wide

Amang the bearded bear,

I turned the weedin’-heuk aside,

An’ spared the symbol dear.