They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!
Oh my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; Oh my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune.
Life is but a day at most.
Should auld acquaintances be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o'auld lang syne?
Let us do or die.
