Robert Burns (1759–1796)

O, WERT thou in the cauld blast,

On yonder lea, on yonder lea,

My plaidie to the angry airt,

I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee;

Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,

Thy bield should be my bosom,

To share it a’, to share it a’.

Or were I in the wildest waste,

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,

The desert were a Paradise,

If thou wert there, if thou wert there;

Or were I monarch o’ the globe,

Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,

The brightest jewel in my Crown

Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.