We are looking at 2 poems in primary 5, Oor Wullie and Tae a Moose.\u00a0 Choose the one you prefer and try and learn it off by heart.<\/p>\n
Oor Wullie<\/strong><\/p>\n Fair fa’ your rosy-cheekit face, Your towsy heid, your dungarees, You’re wee, an’ nae twa ways aboot it, Weel-kent, weel-liked, you’re aye the same, To a Mouse, <\/strong><\/p>\n on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, November, 1785<\/strong><\/p>\n by Robert Burns<\/strong><\/p>\n Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie, I’m truly sorry man’s dominion, I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, Thy wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble, But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me We are looking at 2 poems in primary 5, Oor Wullie and Tae a Moose.\u00a0 Choose the one you prefer and try and learn it off by heart. Oor Wullie Fair fa’ your rosy-cheekit face, Your muckle buits, wi’ broken lace, Although you’re always in disgrace, An’ get your spanks, In all our hearts ye … Continue reading Scottish poems<\/span>
\nYour muckle buits, wi’ broken lace,
\nAlthough you’re always in disgrace,
\nAn’ get your spanks,
\nIn all our hearts ye have your place,
\nDespite your pranks.<\/p>\n
\nYour wee snub nose, your dirty knees,
\nYour knack o’ seeming tae displease
\nYour Ma an’ Pa.
\nWe dinna care a tuppenny sneeze
\nWe think you’re braw.<\/p>\n
\nYou’re wise, wi’ very few tae doot it,
\nYou’re wild, there’s nane that wad dispute it,
\nAround the toon. But maist o a’ ye are reputit
\nA lauchin’ loon.<\/p>\n
\nTae Scots abroad and Scots at hame.
\nNorth, south, east, west, your weel-won fame
\nShall never sully.
\nWe’ll aye salute that couthie name:
\nOor Wullie.<\/p>\n
\nO, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
\nThou need na start awa sae hasty,
\nWi’ bickering brattle!
\nI wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
\nWi’ murd’ring pattle!<\/p>\n
\nHas broken nature’s social union,
\nAn’ justifies that ill opinion,
\nWhich makes thee startle
\nAt me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
\nAn’ fellow-mortal!<\/p>\n
\nWhat then? Poor beastie, thou maun live!
\nA daimen icker in a thrave
\n‘S a sma’ request;
\nI’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
\nAn’ never miss’t!<\/p>\n
\nIt’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
\nAn’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
\nO’ foggage green!
\nAn’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
\nBaith snell an’ keen!<\/p>\n
\nAn’ weary winter comin fast,
\nAn’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
\nThou thought to dwell-
\nTill crash! the cruel coulter past
\nOut thro’ thy cell.<\/p>\n
\nHas cost thee mony a weary nibble!
\nNow thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
\nBut house or hald,
\nTo thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
\nAn’ cranreuch cauld!<\/p>\n
\nIn proving foresight may be vain;
\nThe best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
\nGang aft agley,
\nAn’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
\nFor promis’d joy!<\/p>\n
\nThe present only toucheth thee:
\nBut, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
\nOn prospects drear!
\nAn’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
\nI guess an’ fear!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"