Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonie lassie.
O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my Dear, Till a'the seas gang dry. Till a'the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun: O I will love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o' life shall run.
Adieu,Farewell, itcame witha lass, it will passwith a lass.
When all the world is young, lad, And all the trees are green; And every goose a swan, lad, And every lass a queen; Then hey for boot and horse, lad, And round the world away: Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day.
I met ayont the cairney A lass wi' tousled hair Singin'till a bairnie That was nae langer there.
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Here's to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean; And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Chorus. Let the toast pass, Drink to the lass I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for a glass!
Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass!
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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