And when I use the phrase of “Auld Lang Syne!”
’Tis not addressed to you—the more’s the pity
For me, for I would rather take my wine
With you, than aught (save Scott) in your proud city:
But somehow—it may seem a schoolboy’s whine,
And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty,
But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred
A whole one, and my heart flies to my head—