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　　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.

　　Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung,

　　A heart that warmly seems to feel;

　　That feeling heart but acts a part—

　　'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.

　　The frank address, the soft caress,

　　Are worse than poisoned darts of steel;

　　The frank address, and politesse,

　　Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns