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RAMSAY, as usual with him, has taken the idea of the song, and the first line, from the old fragment, which may be seen in The Museum, vol. v.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne !
For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne !

And surely ye'll be your pint stoup!

And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

We twa hae run about the braes,

And pou't the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

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We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,

Frae morning sun 'till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roard,
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

And there's a han', my trusty fiere,

And gies a han' o' thine !
And we'll tak a right gude willy-waught*
For auld lang syne !+

For auld, &c.

Willy-waught, a hearty draught. + Burns sometimes wrote poems in the old ballad style, which, for reasons best known to himself, he gave the public as songs of the olden time. That famous Soldier's song in particular, printed in this Collection, vol. ii, p. 98, beginning,

« Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,

An' fill it in a silver tassie,
That I may drink before I go,

A service to my bonnie lassie;"

has been pronounced by some of our best living Poets an inimitable relique of some ancient Minstrel! Yet the Editor discovered it to be the actual production of Burns himself. This ballad of Auld lang syne was also introduced in an ambiguous manner, though there exist proofs that the two best stanzas of it are indisputably his. He delighted to imitate and muse on the customs and opinions of his ancestors. He wished to warm his mind with those ideas of felicity which perhaps, at all times, are



HERE is a verse of this lively old song that used to be sung after these printed ones.

O, wha has lien wi' our Lord yestreen?
0, wha has lien wi' our Lord yestreen?
In his soft down bed, O, twa fowk were the sted,
An' whare lay the chamber maid, lassie, yestreen?

more boasted of than enjoyed. The happivess of rustic society in its approach to modern refinement—his delight in the society and converse of the aged, all tended to confer on him that powerful gift of imitating the ancient ballads of his country with the ease and simplicity of his models. This ballad of Auld lang syne would have been esteemed a beautiful modern in the days of Ramsay: 'its sentiments and language are admirably mixed with the sweet recollections of boyish pranks and endearments. To a native of Scotland, the phrase "Auld lang syne' is very expressive, and conveys a soothing idea to the mind, as recalling the memory of joys that are past.'

Burns's most successful imitation of the old style seems to be in his verses entitled “The lovely Lass of Inverness. He took up the idea from the first half verse, which is all that remains of the old words, and this prompted the feelings and tone of the time he wished to commemorate. That he passed some of these as the popular currency of other years is well known, though only discovered by the variations which his papers contain. He scattered these samples to be picked up by inquisitive criticism, that he might listen to its remarks, and, perhaps, secretly enjoy the admiration which they excited.




O, when she came ben she bobbed fu' law,
O, when she came ben she bobbed fu' law,
And when she came ben she kiss'd Cockpen,
And syne deny'd she did it at a'.

And was na cockpen right saucie with a',
And was na Cockpen right saucie with a',
In leaving the daughter of a Lord,
And kissin a collier lassie, an' a'?

O never look down my lassie, at a',
O never look down my lassie, at a',
Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete
As the finest dame in castle or ha'.

Tho' thou has nae silk and holland sae sma', Tho' thou has nae silk and holland sae sma', Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handy-wark, And Lady Jean was never sae braw!


This beautiful song is in the true old Scotch taste, yet I do not know that either air or words were in print before.

the ewes to the knowes,

Ca' them whare the heather grows,
Cứ them whare the burnie rowes,

My bonnie dearie.

As I gaed down the water-side,

There I met my shepherd lad,
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
An' he ca'd me his dearie.

Ca' the ewes, &c.

Will ye gang down the water-side,

And see the waves sae sweetly glide,
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
The moon it shines fu' clearly.

Ca the ewes, &c.

I was bred

up at nae sic school
My shepherd lad, to play the fool,

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