Traditional Scottish Verse

Auld Lang Syne First two verses by Robert Burns, others traditional
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot And auld lang syne?
Chorus: 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.
(Repeat Chorus.) We twa hae mn about the braes And pou'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne.
(Repeat Chorus.) For auld lang syne, etc. -We two hae paidled i' the burn, Frae morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne.
(Repeat Chorus.) And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak' a right gude-willy waught, For auld lang syne.
(Repeat Chorus.)




Bonnie Wee Thing
By Robert Burns

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine, I would wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel I should tine.
Wistfully, I look and languish, In that bonnie face of thine. And my heart it stounds wi' anguish Lest my wee thing be na mine.
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine. I would wear thee in my bosom Lest my jewel I should tine.
Wit and grace and love and beauty In a constellation shine, To adore thee is my duty Goddess 0' this soul 0' mine.
Wistfully I look and languish In that bonnie face of thine. And my heart it stounds wi' anguish Lest my wee thing be na mine.
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wer't thou mine. I would wear thee in my bosom Lest my jewel I should tine.



The Dark Isle

As mists of the evening creep over the hill And the sea round about her is silent and still Forbidden dark island so dreary and cold What mysterious tales can your black rocks unfold While fishermen row past your dark ocean shore And old wives are spinning and praying once more No falsehood to dread no malice you hold You are sworn to your secrets of stories untold

The old men will tell not a bird or a nest At times not a seabird will stop there to rest But you lie there in mist and cold watery waves No harm is yet spoken no evil you show Tis sacred you stand to folks long ago No curses come from you or to you are shown Just a lonely dark island a mysterious throne

But tho' they've not seen they'll tell what they know Of kings and of princes who died long ago Who rest in your coves and still to this day They are seen in your shadows and thru the sea spray So toast to yon mountains and summits of blue And here's to the glens and the meadows of dew It's not of these hills or valleys I dream But the lonely dark island the home of the kings



Dark Lochnagar By Lord Byron
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses, In you let the minions of luxury rove, Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love. Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains, Round their white summits the elements war Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd, My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid. On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd As daily I strode thro' the pine cover'd glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star. For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar!

Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you! Years must roll on ere I see you again. Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. England, thy beauties are tame and domestic To one who has roamed over mountains afar Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.

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