Here you will find the Poem Airlin's Fine Braes of poet Robert Burns
O I've walked o'er yon countries baith early and late Among Airlin's braw lasses I've had mony a lang seat. Comin' hame in the mornins, fin I should have been at ease Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin's fine braes. O the first thing I did, fin I gaed hame tae yon toon Wis to corn my horses, and rub them weel doon. Then aff tae the bothy and tak aff my claes, And pull on the rovers o' Airlin's fine braes. Noo the haill lang days I gaed at the yoke My mind it was turnin' ow'r some mysterious joke. Knockin' doon people's haystacks, fin I should have been at ease Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin's fine braes. O it's mony's the nicht I've sat by yon fire, Sometimes in the barn, sometimes in the byre. Sittin' the haill nicht lang, fin I should have been at ease Fin I wis a plooboy on Airlin's fine braes. And when by their windows I softly did kneel And when they did hear me, they sprung to their heel. Comin' doon the stairs half naked, nae pittin on their claes Sayin', here's wer braw plooboy o' Airlin's fine braes. Now come a' ye single fellows, take a warnin from me Keep clear o' those women faure'er they may be, For they will entice you by puttin' on braw claes And send you a rover in Airlin's fine braes.