Auld Lang Syne
by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

         Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

         Chorus

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.

         Chorus

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.

         Chorus

And there’s a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.

         Chorus

The Sergeant’s Weddin’
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

’E was warned agin ’er—
   That’s what made ’im look;
She was warned agin ’im—
⁠   That is why she took.
’Wouldn’t ’ear no reason,
⁠   ’Went an’ done it blind;
We know all about ’em,
⁠   They’ve got all to find!

Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’—
⁠   Give ’em one cheer more!
Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
⁠   An’ a rogue is married to, etc.

What’s the use o’ tellin’
⁠   ’Arf the lot she’s been?
’E’s a bloomin’ robber.
⁠   An’ ’e keeps canteen.
’Ow did ’e get ’is buggy?
⁠   Gawd, you needn’t ask!
’Made ’is forty gallon
⁠   Out of every cask!

Watch ’im, with ’is ’air cut,
⁠   Count us filin’ by—
Won’t the Colonel praise ’is
⁠   Pop—u—lar—i—ty!
We ’ave scores to settle—
⁠   Scores for more than beer;
She’s the girl to pay ’em—
⁠   That is why we’re ’ere!

See the chaplain thinkin’?
⁠   See the women smile?
Twig the married winkin’
⁠   As they take the aisle?
Keep your side-arms quiet,
⁠   Dressin’ by the Band.
Ho! You ’oly beggars,
   Cough be’ind your ’and!

Now it’s done an’ over,
⁠   ’Ear the organ squeak,
‘’Voice that breathed o’er Eden’—
⁠   Ain’t she got the cheek!
White an’ laylock ribbons,
⁠   Think yourself so fine!
I’d pray Gawd to take yer
⁠   ’Fore I made yer mine!

Escort to the kerridge,
⁠   Wish ’im luck, the brute!
Chuck the slippers after—
⁠   (Pity ’taint a boot!)
Bowin’ like a lady,
⁠   Blushin’ like a lad—
’Oo would say to see ’em
⁠   Both is rotten bad?

Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’—
   Give ’em one cheer more!
Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
   An’ a rogue is married to, etc.