So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all: "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up; So stately his form, and so lovely her face, While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near; "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Loch invar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan: Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? Walter Scott ANNIE LAURIE Maxwelton braes are bonnie Her brow is like the snaw-drift; Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on- AULD LANG SYNE Should auld acquaintance be forgot, CHORUS For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, 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, &c. We twa hae run about the braes, But we've wander'd mony a weary fit Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, &c. We twa hae paidled i' the burn, But seas between us braid hae roar'd For auld, &c. And here'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. -Robert Burns DUNCAN GRAY Duncan Gray cam here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! On blythe Yule-Night when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Maggie coost her head fu' high, Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd; Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Time and chance are but a tide, Slighted love is sair to bide, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! "Shall I, like a fool," quoth he, She may gae to France for me!" Ha, ha, the wooing o't! How it comes let doctors tell, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Meg grew sick as he grew well, Something in her bosom wrings, And O, her een, they spak sic things! Duncan was a lad o' grace, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Maggie's was a piteous case, Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Duncan couldna be her death, Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; Now they're crouse and cantie baith! Ha, ha, the wooing o't! THE SHIPWRECK FROM Don Juan, Canto II XXVII At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift Robert Burns Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, |