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 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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