for our grand fa&039;;
but still, but still, i like the dearly—
god bless the a&039;!
ochone for poor castalian drkers,
when they fa&039; foul o&039; earthly jkers!
the witchg, curs&039;d, delicio blkers
hae put hyte,
and gart weet y waukrife kers,
wi&039; girn&039;spite
by by yon oon!—and that&039;s high swear—
an&039; every star with y hear!
an&039; by her een wha was a dear ane!
i&039;ll ne&039;er fet;
i hope to gie the jads a clear
fair py yet
y loss i ourn, but not repent it;
i&039;ll seek y pursie whare i tt it;
ance to the dies i were wonted,
cantraip hour
by sweet elf i&039;ll yet be dted;
then vive l&039;aour!
faites s baisseas respectuees,
to sentintal sister sie,
and honest cky; no to roose you,
ye ay be proud,
that sic a uple fate allows ye,
to grace your blood
nae air at present can i asure,
an&039; trowth y rhy ware&039;s nae treasure;
but when ayr, half-hour&039;s leisure,
be&039;t light, be&039;t dark,
sir bard will do hiself the pleasure
to call at park
robert burns
ossgiel, 30th october, 1786
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