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When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.

Robert Burns

My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav’n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
ROBERT BURNS

Health Heaven Myself Peace Warm
The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
ROBERT BURNS

Best Planning Time
I look on the opposite sex with something like the admiration with which I regard the starry sky on a frosty December night. I admire the beauty of the Creator’s workmanship, I am charmed with the wild but graceful eccentricity of the motions, and then I wish both of them goodnight.
ROBERT BURNS

Beautiful Charm Creation Grace Motion Myself Night Sex
But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.
ROBERT BURNS

Forever Love See
Here’s to us, who’s like us Damn few, and they’re all dead.
ROBERT BURNS

Death Ourselves Team
But facts are chiels that winna ding, An’ downa be disputed.
ROBERT BURNS

Fact Fight Life
The golden hours on angel wings Flew o’er me and my dearie, For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.
ROBERT BURNS

Gold Life Light Myself Wings
I’m truly sorry man’s dominion has broken Nature’s social union.
ROBERT BURNS

Domination Myself Nature Social Sorry True
Look abroad through Nature’s range, Nature’s mighty law is change.
ROBERT BURNS

Change Law Nature
To see her is to love her, And love but her forever; For nature made her what she is, And never made anither!
ROBERT BURNS

Forever Herself Love Nature See
Dare to be honest and fear no labor. … Opera is where a man gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.
ROBERT BURNS

Dare Death Fear Himself Honesty Man Music Sing
Painters and poets have liberty to lie.
ROBERT BURNS

Liberty Lying Paint Poet
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.
ROBERT BURNS

Best Joy Leaving Man Pain Promise
The trout in yonder wimpling burn – That glides, a silver dart, – And, safe beneath the shady thorn, – Defies the anglers art.
ROBERT BURNS

Art Burn Silver
Some rhyme a neebor’s name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu’ cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An’ raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun.
ROBERT BURNS

Fun Money Myself Name Rhyme Thinking
Go fetch to me a pint o’ wine, An’ fill it in a silver tassie.
ROBERT BURNS

Silver Wine

When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.

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When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.

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