song—o leave novels 注释标题 burns never published this poem.

o leave novels, ye mauchline belles,

ye're safer at your spinning-wheel;

such witching books are baited hooks

for rakish rooks, like rob mossgiel;

your fine tom jones and grandisons,

they make your youthful fancies reel;

they heat your brains, and fire your veins,

and then you're prey for rob mossgiel.