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Ellibanks and Ellibraes, My blessin's ay befa' them, Tho' I wish I had brunt a' my claes, The first time e'er I saw them: Your succar kisses were sae sweet, Deil damn me gin I ken, man, How ye gart me lay my legs aside, And lift my sark myself, man. There's no a lass in a' the land, Can fuck sae weel as I can; Louse down your breeks, lug out your wand, Hae ye nae mind to try, man: For ye're the lad that wears the breeks, And I'm the lass that loes ye; Deil rive my cunt to candle-wicks, Gif ever I refuse ye!!! I'll clasp my arms about your neck, As souple as an eel, jo; I'll cleek my houghs about your arse, As I were gaun to speel, jo; I'll cleek my houghs about your arse, As I were gaun to speel, jo; And if Jock thief he should slip out, I'll ding him wi' my heel, jo. Green be the broom on Ellibraes, And yellow be the gowan! My wame it fistles ay like flaes, As I come o'er the knowe, man: There I lay glowran to the moon, Your mettle wadna daunton, For hard your hurdies hotch'd aboon, While I below lay panting.


Kate Dickie

About this work

This is a poem by Robert Burns. It is read here by Kate Dickie.

Themes for this poem

seduction sex humour

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