Gaze on your tents, and quite forget
My former deep emotion.
For "auld lang syne" I'll not maltreat
Yon pseudo-Tinker, though the Cheat,
Ay sly as thievish Reynard,
Instead of mending kettles, prowls
To make foul havock of my fowls,
And decimate my hen-yard.
Come thou, too, black-eyed lass, and try
That potent skill in palmistry.