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The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill

With biography, illustrations, and music
Tannahill, Robert (1774-1810)
 
[epigraph]
 
[dedication]

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TANNAHILL'S SONGS.
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BURNS ANNIVERSARY ODES, ETC., BY TANNAHILL.
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EPISTLES.
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TANNAHILL'S POEMS.
 
TOWSER.
 
BAUDRONS AND THE HEN BIRD.
 
THE AMBITIOUS MITE.
 
THE STORM.
 
THE RESOLVE.
 
THE PARNASSIAD.
 
CONNEL AND FLORA.
 
THE COCK-PIT.
 
PROLOGUE TO THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
 
WILL MACNEIL'S ELEGY.
 
SONNET TO SINCERITY.
 
THE CONTRAST.
 
THE OLD BEGGAR.
 
ON ALEXANDER WILSON'S EMIGRATION TO AMERICA.
 
EILD.
 
THE POOR BOWLMAN'S REMONSTRANCE.
 
THE PLUNKIN WEDDIN'.
 
THE RECRUITING SERVICE DRUM.
 
PRAYER UNDER AFFLICTION.
 
THE FILIAL VOW.
 
ODE TO JEALOUSY.
 
THE TRIFLER'S SABBATH-DAY.
 
STANZAS. WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL ON THE GRAVESTONE OF A DEPARTED FRIEND.
 
THE HAUNTET WUD.
 
ODE. IN IMITATION OF PETER PINDAR (DR. WOLCOT).
 
ALLAN'S ALE.
 
ASSUMED SANCTITY.
 
SCOTCH DRINK.
 
THE BACCHANALIANS.
 
RICH GRIP-US.
 
MODE FOR ATTAINING A CHARACTER.
 
THE GUINEA NOTE.
 
THE MAN OF CHARACTER.
 
PURSE-PROUD.
 
SILLER STANDS FOR SENSE.
 
THE CHOICE.
 
SUCCESSOR TO OLD CHARON.
 
THE MORALIST.
 
PARODY ON “LULLABY.”
 
THE PORTRAIT OF GUILT:
 
A LESSON.
 
A RESOLVE.
 
LINES WRITTEN ON READING “CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OF HOPE.”
 
ON A FLATTERER.
 
WRITTEN ON SEEING A SPIDER DART OUT UPON A FLY.
 
ON SEEING A FOP PASS AN OLD BEGGAR.
 
WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL IN A TAP-ROOM.
 
A RHYMING RIDDLE.
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Epitaphs.
 
ON A FARTHING-GATHERER.
 
ON THOMAS BISSLAND.
 
ON A CRABBED OLD MAID.
 
ON SEEING A ONCE WORTHY CHARACTER LYING INEBRIATED ON THE STREET.
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Epigrams.

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LASSIE, WILL YE TAK' A MAN?

O lassie, will ye tak' a man,
Rich in housin', gear, and lan'?
De'il tak' the cash! that I should ban,—
Nae mair I 'll be the slave o't.
I 'll buy you claes to busk you braw,
A riding pony, pad, and a';
On fashion's tap we 'll drive awa',
Whip, spur, and a' the lave o't.
Oh, poortith is a wintry day,
Cheerless, blirtie, cauld, and blae;
But basking under Fortune's ray,
There 's joy whate'er ye 'd have o't.
Then gie 's your han', ye 'll be my wife,
I 'll mak' you happy a' your life;
We 'll row in love and siller rife,
Till death wind up the lave o't.
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