Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min?
Even every ray of hope destroyed and not a wish to gild the gloom.
My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
I have a hundred times wished that one could resign life as an officer resigns a commission.