My bonie dearie!

As I gaed down the water-side,

There I met my shepherd lad:

He row’d me sweetly in his plaid,

An he ca’d me his dearie.

Will ye gang down the water-side

And see the waves sae sweetly glide

Beneath the hazels spreading wide?

The moon it shines fu clearly.

Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,

Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,

And in my arms thou’lt lie and sleep,

An ye sall be my dearie.

If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said,

I’se gang wi thee, my shepherd lad,

And ye may row me in your plaid,

And I sall be your dearie.

While waters wimple to the sea,

While day blinks in the lift sae hie,

Till clay-cauld death sall blin’ my e’e,

Ye sall be my dearie.

AULD LANG SYNE

CHORUS

For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet,

For auld lang syne!

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!

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!

We twa hae run about the braes,

And pou’d the gowans fine,

But we’ve wander’d monie a weary fitt,

Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn

Frae morning sun till dine,

But seas between us braid hae roar’d

Sin auld lang syne.

And there’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.

YESTREEN I HAD A PINT O WINE
Tune: Banks of Banna

Yestreen I had a pint o wine,

A place where body saw na;

Yestreen lay on this breast o mine

The gowden locks of Anna.

The hungry Jew in wilderness

Rejoicing o’er his manna

Was naething to my hiney bliss

Upon the lips of Anna.

Ye Monarchs take the East and West

Frae Indus to Savannah!

Gie me within my straining grasp

The melting form of Anna. –

There I’ll despise Imperial charms,

An Empress or Sultana,

While dying raptures in her arms,

I give and take wi Anna!!!

Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!

Awa, thou pale Diana!

Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,

When I’m to meet my Anna.

Come, in thy raven plumage, Night

Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a’,

And bring an Angel-pen to write

My transports with my Anna!

POSTSCRIPT

The Kirk an State may join, an tell

To do sic things I maunna:

The Kirk an State may gae to Hell,

And I’ll gae to my Anna.

She is the sunshine o my e’e,

To live but her I canna:

Had I on earth but wishes three,

The first should be my Anna.

AE FOND KISS
Tune: Rory Dall’s Port

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!

Ae farewell, and then forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,

Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. –