Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk man and mother's son, take heed: Whene'er to drink you are inclined, Or cutty sarks run in your mind, Think ye may buy the joys o'er dear; Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. AE FOND KISS Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae farewell, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee; Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy; Naething could resist my Nancy: But to see her was to love her, Love but her and love forever. Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell, alas, forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee; Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 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, Looked asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh-- Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed (Ha, ha, the wooing o't!); Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig (Ha, ha, the wooing o't!). Duncan sighed baith out and in, Grat his een baith bleer't an' blin', Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn-- Ha, ha, the wooing o't! Time and chance are but a tide (Ha, ha, the wooing o't!): Slighted love is sair to bide (Ha, ha, the wooing o't!). 'Shall I, like a fool,' quoth he, 'For a haughty hizzie die? 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 hale (Ha, ha, the wooing o't!); Something in her bosom wrings, For relief a sigh she brings; And O her een, they spak sic things!-- Ha, ha, the wooing o't! 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 could na be her death, Swelling pity smoored his wrath; Now they're crouse and canty baith-- Ha, ha, the wooing o't! HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There Summer first unfald her robes, And there the langest tarry! For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary.