Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring to me my sword! And there's no a man in all Scotland, But I'll brave him at a word.
I've lived a life of sturt and strife; I die by treacherie: It burns my heart I must depart And not avengèd be.
Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name, The wretch that dares not die!
Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He played a spring and danced it round, Below the gallows tree.
Burns.
[XLIII]
THE GOAL OF LIFE
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For 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 pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wandered mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne.