There simmer first unfald her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. birk, How sweetly bloom'd the gay green How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me, as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace, We tore oursels asunder; That nipt my flower sae early! O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, And closed for aye the sparkling glance, AULD LANG SYNE. HOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, We twa hae run about the braes, But we've wander'd mony a weary Sin auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't i̇' the burn, foot But seas between us braid hae roar'd And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. And surely ye 'll be your pint-stowp, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. BANNOCKBURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. COTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to glorious victorie. Now's the day, and now 's the hour, See approach proud Edward's pow'r - Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law By Oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! Liberty's in every blow! Forward! let us do, or die! FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. S there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and aʼ that ? We dare be poor for a' that! Our toils obscure, and a' that; What tho' on hamely fare we dine, |