January 25th is often called “Burns Night” in honor of the birthday of Romantic-era poet and lyricist Robert Burns (1759-1796), and it is an official holiday in his native Scotland.
Many on this day may enjoy a “Burns Supper,” featuring a prayer written by Burns, a meal of haggis, “neeps and tatties” (turnips and potatoes), plus poetry, and possibly whisky, to recreate a supper held by his friends on the fifth anniversary of his death.
Burns is commonly regarded as the national poet of Scotland and wrote in the Scots language as well as the light Scots English-language dialect. His poem and song, “Auld lang syne,” has become an international standard to mark the end of the year and special occasions, such as graduations, weddings, or funerals.
The Ransom Center’s Robert Burns collection has been digitized, and includes five manuscripts and three letters written by Burns to Thomas Boyd, Allan Cunningham, and Robert Muir. Also present are an autograph of Burns’ brother Gerald Burns and a manuscript containing an additional verse for “Green grow the rashes” by Robert Burns, Jr.
The National Library of Scotland features all things Robert Burns and you can read a history of his life, travels, and musical legacy, download the sheet music for “Auld lang syne” and access digitized versions of his manuscripts, poems, and books.
“A Bard’s Epitaph,” handwritten by Burns in 1796, can be found in the Center’s collections:
The Center’s digital collection also includes a signed, handwritten manuscript by the poet’s son, Robert Burns Jr., addressed to Miss Joanna Smith, Dumfries, and titled “Additional Verse to ‘Green grow the Rashes.” The manuscript offers a final verse to this poem written by his father in 1783:
Green Grow the Rashes
Poem by Robert Burns, 1783
Chorus: Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O.
There’s nought but care on ev’ry han’,
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life o’ man,
An’ ’twere na for the lasses, O.
Chorus
The warl’y race may riches chase,
An’ riches still may fly them, O
An’ tho’ at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.
Chorus
But gie me a cannie hour at e’en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An’ warl’y cares an’ war’ly men
May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O!
Chorus
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this
Ye’re nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest man the warl’ e’er saw,
He dearly lov’d the lasses, O.
Chorus
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her prentice han’ she try’d on man,
An’ then she made the lasses, O.
This additional handwritten verse is dated Tuesday, October 7, 1851, and a typescript accompanies the document offering this transcription and attributed to Robert Burns, Jr.:
“Additional Verse to ‘Green Grown the Rashes.’
Frae Man’s ain side God made his work
That a’ the lave surpasses, O,
That man but lo’es his best heart’s bluid
Wha dearly lo’es the lasses O!”
