(Robert Burns)

Yestreen I had a pint o wine,
   A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
   The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness
   Rejoicing o'er his manna
Was naething to my hiney bliss
   Upon the lips of Anna.

Ye Monarchs take the East and West
    Frae Indus to Savannah:
Gie me within my straining grasp
   The melting form of Anna!
There I'll despise Imperial charms,
While dying raptures in her arms,
   I give an take wi Anna!
Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
  Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
  When I'm to meet my Anna!
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night
   (Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a',)
And bring an Angel-pen to write
  My transports with my Anna!

           POSTSCRIPT
The Kirk an State may join, an tell
  To do sic things I maunna:
The Kirk an State may gae to Hell,
  And I'll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine o' my e'e,
   To live but her I canna:
Had I on earth but wishes three,
   The first should be my Anna.

tune: Banks of Banna (320)
@Scots @love
filename[ PINTWINE
play.exe PINTWINE
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY