Robert Burns (1758-1796)
THE BANKS OF BANNA (original)
Yestreen I had a pint o wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness
Rejoicing o’er his manna
Was naething to my hiney bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
Ye Monarchs take the East and West
Frae Indus to Savannah:
Gie me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna!
There I’ll despise Imperial charms,
While dying raptures in her arms,
I give an take wi Anna!
Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I’m to meet my Anna!
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night
(Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a’,)
And bring an Angel-pen to write
My transports with my Anna!