10 Best Famous Weepers Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Weepers poems. This is a select list of the best famous Weepers poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Weepers poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of weepers poems.

• All Famous Weepers Poems

 A’ YE wha live by sowps o’ drink,
A’ ye wha live by crambo-clink,
A’ ye wha live and never think,
 Come, mourn wi’ me!
Our billie ’s gien us a’ a jink,
 An’ owre the sea!


Lament him a’ ye rantin core,
Wha dearly like a random splore;
Nae mair he’ll join the merry roar;
 In social key;
For now he’s taen anither shore.
 An’ owre the sea!


The bonie lasses weel may wiss him,
And in their dear petitions place him:
The widows, wives, an’ a’ may bless him
 Wi’ tearfu’ e’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-west
Lang mustering up a bitter blast;
A jillet brak his heart at last,
 Ill may she be!
So, took a berth afore the mast,
 An’ owre the sea.


To tremble under Fortune’s cummock,
On a scarce a bellyfu’ o’ drummock,
Wi’ his proud, independent stomach,
 Could ill agree;
So, row’t his hurdies in a hammock,
 An’ owre the sea.


He ne’er was gien to great misguidin,
Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in;
Wi’ him it ne’er was under hiding;
 He dealt it free:
The Muse was a’ that he took pride in,
 That’s owre the sea.


Jamaica bodies, use him weel,
An’ hap him in cozie biel:
Ye’ll find him aye a dainty chiel,
 An’ fou o’ glee:
He wad na wrang’d the vera deil,
 That’s owre the sea.


Farewell, my rhyme-composing billie!
Your native soil was right ill-willie;
But may ye flourish like a lily,
 Now bonilie!
I’ll toast you in my hindmost gillie,
 Tho’ owre the sea!

 ("Vous qui pleurez, venez à ce Dieu.") 
 
 {Bk. III. iv., March, 1842.} 


 Ye weepers, the Mourner o'er mourners behold! 
 Ye wounded, come hither—the Healer enfold! 
 Ye gloomy ones, brighten 'neath smiles quelling care— 
 Or pass—for this Comfort is found ev'rywhere. 
 
 {Footnote 1: Music by Gounod.}