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Famous Aff Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Aff poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous aff poems. These examples illustrate what a famous aff poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry
...aster Tootie,
 Alias, Laird M’Gaun,
Was here to hire yon lad away
’Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
 An’ wad hae don’t aff han’;
But lest he learn the callan tricks—
 An’ faith I muckle doubt him—
Like scrapin out auld Crummie’s nicks,
 An’ tellin lies about them;
 As lieve then, I’d have then
 Your clerkship he should sair,
 If sae be ye may be
 Not fitted otherwhere.


Altho’ I say’t, he’s gleg enough,
An’ ’bout a house that’s rude an’ rough,
 The boy might learn to swear;...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert



...nest heart,
 Tho’ poortith hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neibor’s part,
 Yet hae nae cash to spare him.


Aye free, aff-han’, your story tell,
 When wi’ a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel’,
 Ye scarcely tell to ony:
Conceal yoursel’ as weel’s ye can
 Frae critical dissection;
But keek thro’ ev’ry other man,
 Wi’ sharpen’d, sly inspection.


The sacred lowe o’ weel-plac’d love,
 Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th’ illicit rove,
 Tho’ naething should...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...’e;
For weel I wat they’ll sairly miss him
 That’s owre the sea!


O Fortune, they hae room to grumble!
Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy bummle,
Wha can do nought but fyke an’ fumble,
 ’Twad been nae plea;
But he was gleg as ony wumble,
 That’s owre the sea!


Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear,
An’ stain them wi’ the saut, saut tear;
’Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear,
 In flinders flee:
He was her Laureat mony a year,
 That’s owre the sea!


He saw Misfortune’s cauld nor...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...’ what for no?
If that your right hand, leg or toe
Should ever prove your sp’ritual foe,
 You should remember
To cut it aff—an’ what for no
 Your dearest member?”


“Na, na, (quo’ I,) I’m no for that,
Gelding’s nae better than ’tis ca’t;
I’d rather suffer for my faut
 A hearty flewit,
As sair owre hip as ye can draw’t,
 Tho’ I should rue it.


“Or, gin ye like to end the bother,
To please us a’—I’ve just ae ither—
When next wi’ yon lass I forgather,
 Whate’er betide it,
I’ll ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...uished the gender
 O’ Balaam’s ass:
A broomstick o’ the witch of Endor,
 Weel shod wi’ brass.


Forbye, he’ll shape you aff fu’ gleg
The cut of Adam’s philibeg;
The knife that nickit Abel’s craig
 He’ll prove you fully,
It was a faulding jocteleg,
 Or lang-kail gullie.


But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three
 Gude fellows wi’ him:
And port, O port! shine thou a wee,
 And THEN ye’ll see him!


Now, by the Pow’rs o’ ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert



...l:
In manhood’s various paths and ways
There’s aye some doytin’ body strays,
 And I ride like the devil.


Thus I break aff wi’ a’ my birr,
And down yon dark, deep alley spur,
 Where Theologics daunder:
Alas! curst wi’ eternal fogs,
And damn’d in everlasting bogs,
 As sure’s the creed I’ll blunder!


I’ll stain a band, or jaup a gown,
Or rin my reckless, guilty crown
 Against the haly door:
Sair do I rue my luckless fate,
When, as the Muse an’ Deil wad hae’t,
 I rade that roa...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...it!
Spare’t for their sakes, wha aften wear it—
 The lads in black;
But your curst wit, when it comes near it,
 Rives’t aff their back.


Think, wicked Sinner, wha ye’re skaithing:
It’s just the Blue-gown badge an’ claithing
O’ saunts; tak that, ye lea’e them naething
 To ken them by
Frae ony unregenerate heathen,
 Like you or I.


I’ve sent you here some rhyming ware,
A’ that I bargain’d for, an’ mair;
Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare,
 I will expect,
Yon sang ye’ll sen’t, ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...us excellence
M’Quhae’s pathetic manly sense,
 An’ guid M’Math,
Wi’ Smith, wha thro’ the heart can glance,
 May a’ pack aff.


 Note 1. Rev. Mr. Moodie of Riccarton. [back]
Note 2. Rev. John Russell of Kilmarnock. [back]
Note 3. Robert Duncan of Dundonald. [back]
Note 4. Rev. Wm. Peebles of Newton-on-Ayr. [back]
Note 5. Rev. Wm. Auld of Mauchline. [back]
Note 6. Rev. Dr. Dalrymple of Ayr. [back]
Note 7. Rev. Wm. M’Gill, colleague of Dr. Dalrymple. [back]
Note 8. Minister of S...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...ray’s crimes.
 Buy braw troggin, &c.


Here is Murray’s fragments o’ the ten commands;
Gifted by black Jock to get them aff his hands.
 Buy braw troggin, &c.


Saw ye e’er sic troggin? if to buy ye’re slack,
Hornie’s turnin chapman—he’ll buy a’ the pack.
 Buy braw troggin, &c....Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw,
An’ bar the doors wi’ driving snaw,
 An’ hing us owre the ingle,
I set me down to pass the time,
An’ spin a verse or twa o’ rhyme,
 In hamely, westlin jingle.
While frosty winds blaw in the drift,
 Ben to the chimla lug,
I grudge a wee the great-folk’s gift,
 That live sae bien an’ snug:
 I tent less, and want less
 Their roomy fire-side...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...had three or four,
 I cou’d na tell.


I was come round about the hill,
An’ todlin down on Willie’s mill,
Setting my staff wi’ a’ my skill,
 To keep me sicker;
Tho’ leeward whiles, against my will,
 I took a bicker.


I there wi’ Something did forgather,
That pat me in an eerie swither;
An’ awfu’ scythe, out-owre ae shouther,
 Clear-dangling, hang;
A three-tae’d leister on the ither
 Lay, large an’ lang.


Its stature seem’d lang Scotch ells twa,
The queerest shape that e’er...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...
 As light as ony lambie,
An’ wi’a curchie low did stoop,
 As soon as e’er she saw me,
 Fu’ kind that day.


Wi’ bonnet aff, quoth I, “Sweet lass,
 I think ye seem to ken me;
I’m sure I’ve seen that bonie face
 But yet I canna name ye.”
Quo’ she, an’ laughin as she spak,
 An’ taks me by the han’s,
“Ye, for my sake, hae gien the feck
 Of a’ the ten comman’s
 A screed some day.”


“My name is Fun—your cronie dear,
 The nearest friend ye hae;
An’ this is Superstitution here,
 An...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...a’ be sought ance;
They steek their een, and grape an’ wale
 For muckle anes, an’ straught anes.
Poor hav’rel Will fell aff the drift,
 An’ wandered thro’ the bow-kail,
An’ pou’t for want o’ better shift
 A runt was like a sow-tail
 Sae bow’t that night.


Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,
 They roar an’ cry a’ throu’ther;
The vera wee-things, toddlin, rin,
 Wi’ stocks out owre their shouther:
An’ gif the custock’s sweet or sour,
 Wi’ joctelegs they taste them;
Syne co...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...n’ tempests raise you up,
Some cock or cat your rage maun stop,
 Or, strange to tell!
The youngest brither ye wad whip
 Aff straught to hell.


Lang syne in Eden’s bonie yard,
When youthfu’ lovers first were pair’d,
An’ all the soul of love they shar’d,
 The raptur’d hour,
Sweet on the fragrant flow’ry swaird,
 In shady bower; 1


Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dog!
Ye cam to Paradise incog,
An’ play’d on man a cursèd brogue,
 (Black be your fa’!)
An’ gied the infant warld ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...les mice an’ moudieworts they howkit;
Whiles scour’d awa’ in lang excursion,
An’ worry’d ither in diversion;
Until wi’ daffin’ weary grown
Upon a knowe they set them down.
An’ there began a lang digression.
About the “lords o’ the creation.”


CÆSAR I’ve aften wonder’d, honest Luath,
What sort o’ life poor dogs like you have;
An’ when the gentry’s life I saw,
What way poor bodies liv’d ava.
 Our laird gets in his racked rents,
His coals, his kane, an’ a’ his stents:
He rises ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...YE Irish lords, ye knights an’ squires,
Wha represent our brughs an’ shires,
An’ doucely manage our affairs
 In parliament,
To you a simple poet’s pray’rs
 Are humbly sent.


Alas! my roupit Muse is hearse!
Your Honours’ hearts wi’ grief ’twad pierce,
To see her sittin on her ****
 Low i’ the dust,
And scriechinh out prosaic verse,
 An like to brust!


Tell them wha hae the chief direction,
Scotland an’ me’s in great affliction,
E’er sin’ they laid that cu...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...ha leather rax an’ draw,
 Of a’ denominations;
Swith to the Ligh Kirk, ane an’ a’
 An’ there tak up your stations;
Then aff to Begbie’s in a raw,
 An’ pour divine libations
 For joy this day.


Curst Common-sense, that imp o’ hell,
 Cam in wi’ Maggie Lauder; 1
But Oliphant 2 aft made her yell,
 An’ Russell 3 sair misca’d her:
This day Mackinlay 4 taks the flail,
 An’ he’s the boy will blaud her!
He’ll clap a shangan on her tail,
 An’ set the bairns to daud her
 Wi’ dirt this ...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...ions targe them tightly;
Till, faith! wee Davock’s grown sae gleg,
Tho’ scarcely langer than your leg,
He’ll screed you aff Effectual Calling,
As fast as ony in the dwalling.


 I’ve nane in female servant station,
(L—d keep me aye frae a’ temptation!)
I hae nae wife-and thay my bliss is,
An’ ye have laid nae tax on misses;
An’ then, if kirk folks dinna clutch me,
I ken the deevils darena touch me.
Wi’ weans I’m mair than weel contented,
Heav’n sent me ane mae than I wanted!
...Read more of this...
by Burns, Robert
...nkin', ma lad, we're confoundedly done."
Then Private McPhun looked at Private McPhee:
"I'm thinkin' auld chap, it's a' aff wi' oor spree."
But up spoke their crony, wee Wullie McNair:
"Jist lea' yer braw haggis for me tae prepare;
And as for the dram, if I search the camp roun',
We maun hae a drappie tae jist haud it doon.
Sae rin, lads, and think, though the nicht it be black,
O' the haggis that's waitin' ye when ye get back."

My! but it wis waesome on Naebuddy's Land,
And...Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William
...we a' tumbled doon, and the Boches were there,
 And they held up their hands, and they yelled: "Kamarad!"
And I merched aff wi' ten, wi' their palms in the air,
 And my! I wis prood-like, and my! I wis glad.
And I thocht: if ma lassie could see me jist then. . . .
 When sudden I sobered at somethin' I saw,
And I stopped and I stared, and I halted ma men,
 For there on a stretcher wis Sandy McGraw.
Weel, he looks in ma face, jist as game as ye please:
 "Ye ken hoo I hate tae b...Read more of this...
by Service, Robert William

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things