TOASTS TO WOMEN, LOVE, FRIENDSHIP, ETC.

A cozy but, and a cantie ben To couthie women and trusty men.

An honest man may like a glass, An honest man may like a lass, But mean revenge, an’ malice fause, He’ll still disdain.

And fill them high with generous juice, As generous as your mind; And pledge me in the generous toast— “The whole of human kind!”

And here’s to a’ in barley bree, Oursel’s and a’ the warld thegither, To a’ wha luve the kilted knee, Or bonnie lasses in the heather.

And the sands shall sing, And the round world ring, With my love and thy love for me.

And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one This happy harmony would make them none.

But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions, With bloody armaments and revolutions; Let Majesty your first attention summon, Ah ça ira! the Majesty of Woman!

But ye whom social pleasure charms, Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, Who hold your being on the terms, “Each aid the others,” Come to my bowl, come to my arms, My friends, my brothers!

Drink ye to her that each loves best.

Fill me with the rosy wine, Call a toast, a toast divine, Give the poet’s darling flame, Lovely —— be the name, Then thou mayest freely boast Thou hast given a peerless toast.

Farewell the glen sae bushy, O! Farewell the plain sae rushy, O! To other lands I now must go, To sing my Highland lassie, O!

For a’ that and a’ that, It’s coming yet for a’ that— That man to man the warld o’er Shall brithers be for a’ that.

For me, I’m woman’s slave confessed— Without her, hopeless and unblessed.

For there’s nae luck about the house, There’s nae luck at a’; There’s little pleasure in the house When our gudeman’s awa’.

Go to your sculptur’d tombs, ye Great, In a’ the tinsel trash o’ state! But by thy honest turf I’ll wait, Thou Man of worth! And weep the ae best fellow’s fate E’er lay in earth.

Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dear, Here’s a health to ane I lo’e dear; Thou art as sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear—Jessy!

Here’s a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be of care, man? Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man:— Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not aye when sought, man.

Here’s a health to the ladies at hame, Here’s a health to the ladies awa’, And wha winna pledge wi’ all their soul May they never be smiled on at a’. Here’s health to the bright eyes at hame, Here’s health to the bright eyes awa’, Here’s health to the beauties of every clime, And may we be smiled on by a’.

Here’s to the friends we can trust When the storms of adversity blaw; May they live in our song and be nearest our hearts Nor depart like the year that’s awa’.

Here’s to the year that’s awa’, We’ll drink it, in strong and in sma’; And here’s to the bonnie young lassie in love While swift flies the year that’s awa’.

Here’s to you, as good as you are, And here’s to me, as bad as I am; But as good as you are and as bad as I am I’m as good as you are, as bad as I am.

I hae been blythe wi’ comrades dear; I hae been merry drinkin’; I hae been joyfu’ gath’ring gear; I hae been happy thinkin’; But a’ the pleasures e’er I saw, Tho’ three times doubled fairly, That happy night was worth them a’ Amang the rigs o’ barley.

It warms me, it charms me, To mention but her name, It heats me, it beats me, And sets me a’ on flame.

May we a’ be canty and cosy And ilk hae a wife in his bosy.

Let’s drink our drap o’ barley bree, Though moon and stars should blink thegither, To each leal lad wi’ kilted knee, And bonnie lass amang the heather.

May never wicked fortune touzle him! May never wicked men bamboozle him! Until a pow as auld’s Methusalem He canty claw! Then to the blessed New Jerusalem, Fleet wing awa!

O! love! love! laddie. Love’s like a dizziness! It winna let a puir body Gang about his business.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min’? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o’ lang syne? Chorus For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu’d the gowans fine; But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot Sin auld lang syne. For auld, etc. 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. For auld, etc. And here’s a hand, my trust fiere, And gie’s a hand o’ thine; And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang syne. For auld, etc. And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup, And surely I’ll be thine; And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

The social friendly honest man, Whae’er he be, ’Tis he fulfils great Nature’s plan, And none but he.

Then fill a bowl, and while we drink We’ll rivet closer friendship’s link, Till joy rin o’er and care deep sink, Beneath the whirling wave o’t.

Till Hymen brought his love-delighted hour, There dwelt no joy in Eden’s rosy bower.

To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For Nature made her what she is. And ne’er made sic anither!

This is a good world to live in, To lend to spend or to give in, But to get or to borrow or keep what’s one’s own ’Tis the very worst world that ever was known.

To those who love us, second fill; But not to those whom we love: Lest we love those who love not us! A third—“to thee and me, Love!”

While highlandmen hate tolls and taxes; While muirlan’ herds like guid fat braxies; While terra firma, on her axis Diurnal turns, Count on a friend, in faith an’ practice, In Robert Burns.

While waters wimple to the sea; While day blinks in the lift sae hie; Till clay-cauld death shall blin’ my e’e, Ye shall be aye my dearie.

Whilst we together jovial sit Careless, and crowned with mirth and wit, We’ll think of all the friends we know And drink to all worth drinking to!