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.