cut out statue to use

the star O' Robbie Burns  



There is a star whose beaming ray

Is shed on ev'ry clime.

It shines by night, it shines by day

And ne'er grows dim wi' time.

It rose upon the banks of Ayr,

It shone on Doon's clear stream -

A hundred years are gane and mair,

Yet brighter grows its beam.



Let kings and courtiers rise and fa',

This world has mony turns

But brightly beams aboon them a'

The star o' Robbie Burns.


Though he was but a ploughman lad

And wore the hodden grey,

Auld Scotland's sweetest bard was bred

Aneath a roof o'strae.

To sweep the strings o'Scotia's lyre,

It needs nae classic lore;

It's mither wit an native fire

That warms the bosom's core.




On fame's emblazon'd page enshrin'd

His name is foremost now,

And many a costly wreath's been twin'd

To grace his honest brow.

And Scotland's heart expands wi' joy

Whene'er the day returns

That gave the world its peasant boy

Immortal Robbie Burns.




Brother James Thomson


Bard of Lodge 424



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