Cleanings.

Kaikoura Star, Volume XIV, Issue 764, 14 August 1894, Page 7

Cleanings.

Auld Lang Syne.

‘ Hebridean ’ writes to the Editor of the Waimea Plains lieview :—T send you a gaelic translation ol one of Burn’s favourite songs ‘ Auld Lang Syne,' for which you may be disposed to give a corner in your valuable paper, if for no other reason than to amuse some of its readers who may not have * smacked ’ the ‘ dear old language of the heather ’ for many years : AULD LANG SANE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, An’ never brought to mind ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot And days o’ auld lang syne ? CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld Jang syne, We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet For auld lang syne. We twa ha’e ran about the braes, An’ pu’d the gowans fine ; But we’ve wander’d many a weary foot, Sin’ auld lang syne. We twa ha’e paidl’t i’ the burn, Frae mornin sun till dine ; But seas between us braid ha’e roar’d Sin auld lang syne. An’ here’s a hand my trusty friend, An’ gie’s a hand o’ tbine ; An’ we’ll tak’ a right guid willie-waught For auld lang syne. An’ surely you’ll be your pint-stoup, An’ surely I’ll be mine ; An’ we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.

AN TIM A BHANN O CHIAN. (Auld Lang Syne.)’N coir seann Juchd-eolais dhol a beachd, ’S gu’n chuirahn orra bhi ann ? ’N coir seann luchd-edlais dhol a beachd, ’Sna laithean a bh ’ann ? Air sgath an tim a bh’ann a ruin, Air sgath an tim a bh’ann, Gu’n gabh sien fbathast cupan tbath Air sgath an tim a bh ’ann.

Bha sinne comhla feadh nam bruach A’ tionall neoineiu annt’, Ach’s sgith air seachran ceum ar cas Bho tim o chian a bh ’ann.

Bu trath ’us anmoch sinn 'san allt Ag iomair ’s sinn 'nar clann, Ach dhealaich cuaintean farsuin sinn Bho’n tim o chian a bh ’ann.

Mo charaid earbsach gabh mo lamb, ’S sin fhein do lamh a nail 'S gu ’n gabh sinn cuach gu cridheil lan Air sgath an tim a bh ’ann.

Gu cinnteach ’s leat do bharail fhein ’S mo bharail fhein tha learns’, 'S gu ’n gabh sinn cupan caoimhneil Ilin Air sgath an tim a bh ’ann.

A certain candidate at the English general election made a great point of his Protestantism, declaring that he would never submit to being priestridden, &c. Whereupon a Radical parson retorted with the following epigram : EjjNo ! never shalt thou ridden*be~’~ ~* fcijSjßy prophet or by priest; Balaam’s dead, and none but he Would choose t/iee for his beast.;

The Imperial Library at Paris has 72,000 works treating of the French Revolution.

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