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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