Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, Among Thy Green

When Chill November's Surly Blast Made Fields And Forests Bare.

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot And Never Brought To Mind? Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot And Days Of Auld Lang Syne? For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear, For Auld Lang Syne, We'll Take A Cup Of Kindness Yet, For Auld Lang Syne.

Oatcakes Are A Delicate Relish When Eaten Warm With Ale.

Their Sighing, Canting, Grace-proud Faces, Their Three-mile Prayers, And Half-mile Graces.

Or Like The Snow Falls In The River, A Moment White-then Melts For Ever . . .