The Alliterated Robert Burns Poem by Sheena Blackhall

If he wooed, he won the willing lady
When he wrote, rich rhythms he outlayed
If he drank, the deepest draught he swallowed
When he ploughed, the plovers piped and played

If he laughed, the lilies leapt to hear him
When he talked, such teachings he fermented
If he sighed, the soulful willows swayed
When he railed, the roughest rogue relented

When he died, the fiddler left his fiddling
When rantin rovin Robin’s corp was laid