Here you will find the Poem From Lines to William Simson of poet Robert Burns
1 Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain, 2 She's gotten poets o' her ain-- 3 Chiels wha their chanters winna hain, 4 But tune their lays, 5 Till echoes a' resound again 6 Her weel-sung praise. 7 Nae poet thought her worth his while 8 To set her name in measur'd style: 9 She lay like some unken'd-of isle 10 Beside New Holland, 11 Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil 12 Besouth Magellan. 13 Ramsay and famous Fergusson 15 Yarrow and Tweed to mony a tune 16 Owre Scotland rings; 17 While Irvin, Lugar, Ayr an' Doon 18 Naebody sings. 19 Th' Ilissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine 20 Glide sweet in mony a tunefu' line; 21 But, Willie, set your fit to mine 22 And cock your crest, 23 We'll gar our streams and burnies shine 24 Up wi' the best! 25 We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells, 26 Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, 27 Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, 28 Where glorious Wallace 29 Aft bure the gree, as story tells, 30 Frae Southron billies. 31 At Wallace' name what Scottish blood 32 But boils up in a spring-tide flood! 33 Oft have our fearless fathers strode 34 By Wallace' side, 35 Still pressing onward red-wat-shod, 36 Or glorious dy'd. 37 O sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods,. 38 When lintwhites chant amang the buds, 39 And jinkin hares in amorous whids 40 Their loves enjoy, 41 While thro' the braes the cushat croods 42 Wi' wailfu' cry! 43 Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me, 44 When winds rave thro' the naked tree; 45 Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 46 Are hoary gray; 47 Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, 48 Dark'ning the day! 49 O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms 50 To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! 51 Whether the summer kindly warms 52 Wi' life an' light, 53 Or winter howls in gusty storms 54 The lang, dark night! 55 The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, 56 Till by himsel he learn'd to wander 57 Adoun some trottin burn's meander, 58 And no think lang; 59 O sweet to stray and pensive ponder 60 A heart-felt sang! 61 The warly race may drudge and drive, 62 Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch an' strive: 63 Let me fair nature's face descrive, 64 And I wi' pleasure 65 Shall let the busy, grumbling hive 66 Bum owre their treasure.