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We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun til dine:* But seas between us braid hae roar'd, Sin auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, etc. 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. For auld lang syne, etc.
mind ye that, we twa hae paidl't i' the burn an' it's flowin' yet, an' God's gey guid here's to ye, Andra," and the men drank together, the elder and the unordained, but the past was sacred to them both and childhood's tears came back to make that past complete. About an hour later, Andrew and Gavin passed out through the adjoining room. They came upon Mr.
We all of us have a leaning towards the pathetic, and may be inclined perhaps to prize Burns most for his touches of piercing, sometimes almost intolerable, pathos; for verse like "We twa hae paidl't i' the burn From mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin auld lang syne ..." where he is as lovely as he is sound.
They clasp, the same hands as fought and played together in the golden boyhood days. "Andra," said Gavin, "I'll repeat to you the twa best lines o' rhyme i' the language: An' div ye ken hoo true they are? "'We twa hae paidl't i' the burn Frae mornin' sun till dine'
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