We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn,
frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
sin auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.
Or if you prefer, you could sing 162 Plenary in your Sacred Harp books. Caveat: the lyrics are a little more dismal.
Hark! from the tombs of doleful sound,
Mine ears, attend the cry,
Ye living men, come view the ground,
Where you must shortly lie.
"Princes, this clay must be your bed,
In spite of all your tow'rs;
The tall, the wise, the rev'rend head,
Must lie as low as ours."
Great God! Is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepared no more!
Love this!! Great job!!
rsdandsoda 2 months ago
Freaking amazing dude. Keep it up.
VencesMx 2 months ago