96 BURNS
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 avenged 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.
��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.
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