The Poor And Honest Sodger. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCEFGF HFBFIJKJ BLBLMCNC O PQJQRFRF J JFNFFNNN O SNNNONTN O JNONNNNN O BFUFUFNF

Air The Mill Mill OA
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-
-
I-
-
When wild war's deadly blast was blawnB
And gentle peace returningC
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherlessD
And mony a widow mourningC
I left the lines and tented fieldE
Where lang I'd been a lodgerF
My humble knapsack a' my wealthG
A poor and honest sodgerF
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II-
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A leal light heart was in my breastH
My hand unstain'd wi' plunderF
And for fair Scotia hame againB
I cheery on did wanderF
I thought upon the banks o' CoilI
I thought upon my NancyJ
I thought upon the witching smileK
That caught my youthful fancyJ
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III-
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At length I reach'd the bonny glenB
Where early life I sportedL
I pass'd the mill and trysting thornB
Where Nancy aft I courtedL
Wha spied I but my ain dear maidM
Down by her mother's dwellingC
And turn'd me round to hide the floodN
That in my een was swellingC
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IVO
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Wi' alter'd voice quoth I sweet lassP
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossomQ
O happy happy may he beJ
That's dearest to thy bosomQ
My purse is light I've far to gangR
And fain wud be thy lodgerF
I've serv'd my king and country langR
Take pity on a sodgerF
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VJ
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Sae wistfully she gaz'd on meJ
And lovelier was then everF
Quo' she a sodger ance I lo'dN
Forget him shall I neverF
Our humble cot and hamely fareF
Ye freely shall partake itN
That gallant badge the dear cockadeN
Ye're welcome for the sake o'tN
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VIO
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She gaz'd she redden'd like a roseS
Syne pale like onie lilyN
She sank within my arms and criedN
Art thou my ain dear WillieN
By him who made yon sun and skyO
By whom true love's regardedN
I am the man and thus may stillT
True lovers be rewardedN
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VIIO
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The wars are o'er and I'm come hameJ
And find thee still true heartedN
Tho' poor in gear we're rich in loveO
And mair we'se ne'er be partedN
Quo' she my grandsire left me gowdN
A mailen plenish'd fairlyN
And come my faithful sodger ladN
Thou'rt welcome to it dearlyN
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VIIIO
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For gold the merchant ploughs the mainB
The farmer ploughs the manorF
But glory is the sodger's prizeU
The sodger's wealth is honourF
The brave poor sodger ne'er despiseU
Nor count him as a strangerF
Remember he's his country's stayN
In day and hour of dangerF

Robert Burns



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