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The Gowden Locks Of Anna

     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 hinny 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,
     An Empress or Sultana,
     While dying raptures in her arms
     I give and 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     (Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a';)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!

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