(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 Come, in thy raven plumage, Night (Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a',) And bring an Angel-pen to write My transports with my Anna!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