Robert Bard Burns will tak a cup o kindness yet, before paidlin i the burn

"Auld Lang Syne"

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o lang syne?

We twa hae rin about the braes,
And puid the gowans fine;
But we've wanderd monie a weary fit,
Sin auld lang syne.

We twae hae paidlt i the burn,
Frae mornin sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roard
Sin auld lang syne.

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o thine;
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne. (Robert Burns, 1788)

Ah, what is there to say, that the Bard doesn't? It's even more beautiful than the old movies make it. How do you suppose "fiere" (friend) is pronounced? I hope that you and your fier(i)es had a "guid-willie waught for auld lang syne," and didn't fall from the brae into the burn afterwards!

P.S. It's all quite clear now. The reason American English has no accent, no brogue, no slant, is because once the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth and found clear water, they no longer had to drink the beer to make the water safe. Once beer was eliminated from the daily diet the language lost its character.

Honestly, English speakers all sound like Scots or Irish poets when they've lifted their "pint-stowp" a few too many times. Why has no one noticed this before?