For auld lang syne, my jo, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne.
The deil cam fiddlin thro'the town, And danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman; And ilka wife cries, auld Mahoun, I wish you luck o'the prize, man!Robert Burns
An'see the deid come loupin'owre The auld grey wa's.Grieve
There's ane end of ane auld sang.
This rortie wretched city Sair come down frae its auld hiechts The hauf o't smug, complacent, Lost til all pride of race or spirit, The tither wild and rouch as ever In its secret hairt But lost alsweill, the smeddum tane, The man o'independent mind has cap in hand the day Sits on its craggy spine And drees the wind and rain That nourished all its genius Weary wi centuries This empty capital snorts like a great beast Caged in its sleep, dreaming of freedom.
For auld lang syne, my dear,For auld lang syne,We'll tak a cup o' kindness yetFor auld lang syne!Robert Burns
The battellis and the man I will discriue,Fra Troyis boundis first that fugitiueBy fate to Italie come and coist lauyne,Ouer land and se cachit with meikill pyneBy force of goddis aboue fra euery stedeOf cruel luno throw auld remembrit feid:Grete payne in batelles sufferit he also,Or he his goddis brocht in LatioAnd belt the ciete, fra quham of nobil fameThe latyne peopill taken has thare name,And eke the faderis, princis of Alba,Come, and the walleris of grete Rome alsua.Gavin Douglas
As she sat in the low-backed carThe man at the turn-pike barNever asked for the tollBut just rubbed his auld pollAnd looked after the low-backed car.samuel lover
Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone, wi' the auld moon in hir arme.
The battellis and the man I will discriue, Fra Troyis boundis first that fugitiue By fate to Italie come and coist lauyne, Ouer land and se cachit with meikill pyne By force of goddis aboue fra euery stede Of cruel luno throw auld remembrit feid: Grete payne in batelles sufferit he also, Or he his goddis brocht in Latio And belt the ciete, fra quham of nobil fame The latyne peopill taken has thare name, And eke the faderis, princis of Alba, Come, and the walleris of grete Rome alsua.
OThou, whatever title suit thee! auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie.Robert Burns
auld Scotland wants nae skinking wareThat jaups in luggies; But, if ye wish her gratefu'prayer, Gie her a Haggis!Robert Burns
auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men and bonny lasses.Robert Burns
auld Nature swears, the lovely dearsHer noblest work she classes, O:Her prentice han' she tried on man,An' then she made the lasses, O.Robert Burns
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