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WEEK THREE

This week we have a song which should be a must at any Burns Supper – ‘Rantin’ Rovin’ Robin’ – an autobiographical song by the National Bard and a short poem  - ‘The Henpecked Husband’ -which may prove of some use to the unfortunate male who has been brow-beaten into proposing the ‘Toast to the Lassies’!

RANTIN' ROVIN' ROBIN 
There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o' whatna style,
I doubt it's hardly worth the while'
To be sae nice wi' Robin
 
Chorus
Robin was a rovin' boy -
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin' -
Robin was a rovin' boy -
Rantin' rovin' Robin !
 
Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar win'
Blew hansel in on Robin.
Robin was, & c.
 
The gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo' she, 'Wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be nae coof,
I think we'll ca' him Robin.
Robin was, & c.
 
'He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
But ay a heart aboon them a' ;
He'll be a credit till us a',
We'll a' be proud o' Robin.
Robin was, & c.
 
'But sure as three times three mak' nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin',
So leeze me on thee, Robin.
Robin was, & c.
 
'Guid faith,' quo' she, 'I doubt you gar
The bonie lasses lie aspar ;
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur,
So blessin's on thee, Robin !
Robin was, & c.

THE HENPECKED HUSBAND

Curs’d be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend’s secret tell,
Who dreads a curtain-lecture worse than hell!
Were such a wife had fallen to my part,
I’d break her spirit, or I’d break her heart;
I’d charm her with the magic of a switch,
I’d kiss her maids, and kick the perverse bitch.

                                                                                              Return to A Burns Collection  

 


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