THE HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG BY REV. J. DOUGLAS BORTHWICK, AUTHOR OF " Cyclop JEDXA of History and Geography," "The Bbitish American Reader," "The Harp op Canaan," "Battles of the World," " Every Man's Mine of Useful Knowledge," and the "Elementary Geography op Canada." " Tho' hair grow groy, and limbs grow aukl, Until the day I dec, I'll bless the Scottish tongue that sings The auld Scotch sangs to ma." "The Scottish Minstrelsy, at the present day, presents by far the finest and most characteristic collection of National Songs in tho world." " There is no oar so simple or so refined as not to be charmed with Scot- tish ^ModiQi."—" English Literature." » *•* » Murray & Co., Stationers' Hall, 387 Notre Dame Street. 1874. Entered, according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy-four, by Rev. J. DoDGiiAS Bortbtwick, in the OflBce of the Minister of Agri- culture. Fft \\'i\ au r- b PREFACE. At tlie re(iiie8t of many kind friends, and others interested in Scottish Song, the following work is given to the public. The Author feels confident that it will be well received by Scotchmen and their descendants in Canada, knowing well that no book of the same kind has ever before been given to the world, and embracing, as this one does, all the most favorite and national songs of '' Auld Scotia" together with a succinct and chronological history of the Scottish Muse from the very earliest periods to the present time. If the reading and the singing of these songs produce half the pleasure to the Public which it has caused the Author in their compilation, much will have been accomplished j and the words of John Lmlah, and of the verses which follow his arc the most appropriate to insert before the History. Montreal November, 1874, 13339 *> HISTORY or SCOTTISH SONG. AULD SCOTIA'S SANGS. Auld Scotia's Saiigs! Auld Scotia's Sangs! — the strains o' youth and yore ! — O lilt to mo, and I will list — will list them o'er and o'er; hough mak' me wae, or mak' mo wud, — or changcfu' as a child, Yet lilt to me, and I will list — the "native wood notes wild !" They mak' me present wi' the past — they bring u]), fiesh and fair, The Bonnie Broom o' Cnvden Knowes, the Bush abune Traquair, The Dowie Dens o' Yarrow, or the Birks o' Invermay, Or Catrine's green and yellow Woods in autumn's dwining day ! 9 2 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. They bring mo back the holms and howes whar siller buruies shine, The Loa-rig whar the gowans glint we pu'd in Auld Lang Syne : And, mair than a,' the Trystin' Thorn that blossom'd down the vale, Whar gloamin* breathed sae sweetly — but far sweeter luve's fond tale ! Now melt we o'er the lay that wails for Flodden's day o' duie, — And now some rant will gar us loup like daffin' youth at Yule ; — Now o'er young luve's impassion'd strain our conscious heart will yearn, — And now our blude fires at the call o' Bruce o' Ban- nockburn ! 1 lovely in the licht o' sang the Ettriok and the Tweed, Whar shepherd swains were wont to blaw auld Scotia's lyric reed ; — The Logan and the Lugar, too, but, hallow'd meikle mair, The Banks and Braes o' bonnie Doun, — the Afton and the Ayr 1 The hind whase hands are on the pleugh— the shep- herd wi' his crook — The maiden o'er the milkin' pail, or by the ingle neuk, Lo'e weel to croon Auld Scotia's sangs— may they ever sae ! And it may be a daffin' lilt— may be a dowie lay ! HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 3 Though warldly griof and warldling's guile maun 1 like itliers dreo, Maun thole the sair saigli rive my breist — the hot tear scald my e'e I But let mo list the melodies o' some o' Scotia's sangs, And I will a' forget my waes — will a' forgie my wrangs 1 01 born o' feeling's warmest depths — o' fancy's wildest dreams, They're twined wi' monie lovely thochts, wi' monio lo'esome themes ; They gar the glass o' memorie glint back wi' brichter shino On far afiE scenes, and far aff friends — and Auld Lang Syne ! Auld Scotia's Sangs ! — Auld Scotia's Sangs I her " native wood notes wild !" Her monie artless melodies, that move mo liko a child ; Sing on — ^sing on I and I will list — will list then o'er and o'er, — Auld Scotia's Sangs! — Auld Scotia's Sangs I — the sangs o' youth andjyore I HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. THE AULD SCOTCH SANGS. O sing to me tho aiild Scotch sangs, I' the braid Scottish tongue, The sangs my father wished to hear, The sangs my mithor sung, "When she sat beside my cradle, Or crooned me on her knee. And I wadna sleep she sang sae sweet, The auld Scotch sangs to me. Sing ony o' the auld Scotch sangs, Tho blithesome or the sad, They make me smile when I am wae, And greet when I am glad; My heart gaes back to auld Scotland, The saut tear dims my e'e, And the Scotch blood leaps in a' my veins, As ye sing tho sangs to me. Sing on, sing mair o* these auld sangs. For ilka ane can tell, 0' joy or sorrow o' the past. Where mem'ry loves to dwell ; Tho' hair grow grey, and limbs grow auld, Until the day I dee, I'll bless the Scottish tongue that sings The auld Scotch sangs to me. HISTORY OF SCOTTlSn SONG. 5 THE HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. It is an historical and undoniablo fact that all the nations of antiquity, even the most barbarous and most illiterate, and of which we^havo any knowledge or information in the pages of historical research and antiquarian lore, with, perhap8,the one, single, solitary exception of the aboriginal inhabitants of the great Australian continent and some parts of Oceanica, are known to possess snatches or fragments of music and song, and to acknowledge such in their feasts, war- dances and religious ceremonies. Thus has Poetry always and in all ages taken the precedence of Prose. The Picts and Scots were among the^earliest inhabi- tants of fair "Albion's Isle." The Skalds or Bards, amongst these early people, celebrated their heroic exploits and warlike deeds in the rude strains and language then used by these sons of Caledon and Albion. They were their only poets.],; During the Middle Ages when the Celtic language was not so prevalent — and especially in Scotland, where it had been supplanted by the Anglo Saxonand^Norman French — the Minstrels took upon themselves the du- ties which anciently belonged to^the Skalds or^Bards. They became a kind of professional rhyme makers or public reciters, and were often admitted into the halls, and even into the private apartments, of the great and noble of the land. There they sang ^and recited, always accompanied by the sweet music of the harj), versified or poetical romances " of love and war and glomourie." 6 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. On the decline of chivahy and romance, and after the Crusades, those minstrels gradually fell into dis- use, — till after the invention of printing by Lawrence Koster, and its introduction into the various countries of Europe, Scotland among the rest, they sank into such a low stratum of society, that they were classed among '* sturdy beggars, rogues and vagabonds" and " seem to have become somewhat like our modern street ballad mongers or the humbler portion of our street musicians." Thomas the Rhymer, who flourished in the 13th century and who wrote " Sir Tristrem," is, without doubt, the first, the earliest and the eldest of any, either Scottish or English rhymer. His language does not differ in any great essentials or material manner from that of England of the same period, so that, as Sir Walter Scott himself declares, and his authority is unquestioned : "It follows that the first classical Erglish Romance was written in part of what is now called Scotland." A hundred years after the times of Thomas the Rhymer, lived John Barbour, Ai'chdeacon of Aber- deen, who is generally recognized as the earliest Scottish poet. He wrote an^interesting poem on the " Great Bruce" forming, as it does a metrical epic on the deeds of the most illustrious and the most re- nowned of Scotia's royal line. Here is a specimen of his Bruce : — " — quhasae likes thai may hear Young women, quhen thai play, Sing it ftmang them ilk day." HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 7 This refers to a victory which was gained at Esk- dale over a body of English soldiers. After him flourished and sang Andrew Wyntoun, prior of Loch Loven, and also Blind Harry or Henry THE Minstrel. The former wrote what is called the "Chronicle of Scotland," and the latter composed a rhyme, celebrated to this day, on the life and exploits of Sir William "Wallace. This version of the life of Sir William Wallace was published in 1722 by Wil- liam Hamilton and since then it has passed through innumerable editions. In the days of Burns it was as popular as now. He thus speaks of it as having poured into his Scottish veins, " a tide of Scottish prejudice that would continue to boil there till the flood-gates of life were shut in everlasting rest." None of the names above mentioned belong pro- perly speaking to Scottish song or the writers of such. In the year 1314 was fought the decisive and memorable battle of Bannockbum, and, from this period for a hundred years after no traces of Scottish song occur worth noticing. An English chronicler, Fabyan by name, relates that " the Scotts enflamed with pride, in derysyon of the English made this rhyme as folio weth : — " Maydens of Englande, sore may ye morne For your lemmans (lovers) ye have lost at Ban- nockysborno, With Heue a lowe. What ! weneth (imagineth) the king of Englande So soone to have won Scotlande ? With Rumbylowe." 8 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. The words printed in Italics are supposed to be old choruses or burthens as we find elsewhere. We have now arrived at the age of James I of Scot- land, and the most illustrious of the many of the House of Stuart. King James may be " pronounced in addition to his eminence in serious and imagina- tive poetry, as the first who in his " Peblis to the Play," opened up that store of rich, humorous and graphic description of common life by which the Scottish Muse has ever since been so prominently dis- tinguished." His description of a beautiful lady in the gardens of Windsor Castle, " his milk white dove," and who afterwards became his wife and queen of Scotland, is a masterpiece of delineation and is beautifully depicted in the poem which he wrote styled "The King's Quhair" or Book. This king was seized by Henry lYth of England when he was on his voyage to Fi'ance, and for 19 years he was detained a prisoner by the English king. Whilst kept a prisoner at Wind- sor Castle he saw walking one day in the garden of that Castle, the beautiful daughter of the duke of Somerset. Ho fell deeply in love with this lady then and there. Afterwards the sum of £40,000 having been paid as a ransom for him. King James regained his liberty, and at the same time married the lady who had gained his heart "his milk white dove" and carried her to Scotland. The following are a few of the stanzas of his poem, " The King's Quhair:" " Of her array the form gif I shall write, Toward her golder hair and rich attire, In fretursc couchit \> .tli perlis white. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 9 And greate balas lomying as the fire, With many an emerant and fair sapphire And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue, Of plumys parted red, and white and blue. About her neck, white as the fyre amaille, A goodly chain of small orfeverye, Whereby there hung a ruby, without fail, Like to ane hearty shapen, verily. That as a spark of lowe so wantonly Seemed burning upon her white throat. Now gif there was good perde, God it wote. And for to walk that freshe Maye's morrow, Ane book she had upon her tissue white That goodlier had not been seen toforowe, As I suppose and girt she was al y te ; Thus hal flying loose for haste to such delight, It was to see her youth in goodlihead. That for rudeness to speak thereof I dread. ^h ^S n^ ^h ^F T^ In her was youth, beauty, with humble port, " Bounty, richesse and womanly faiture, " God better wot than my pen can report, " Wisdom, largesse estate and conyng sure, " In every point so guided her measure," In woi*d, in deod, in shape, in countenance. That nature might no more her child avance." A hundred years again elap^o between the reigns of Jftmos Ist and James Vth. This century may be justly styled the Augustan era or age of Scottish poetry. It was dui'ing these ten decades that 10 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Henrysone, Dunbar, Gavin Douglas and Sir David Lindsay all flourished. None of these, however, may be properly called song writers. Henrysone is the only one who may properly be styled a composer of songs. He was born 1425 and died 1495. He is the author of the earliest known ballad in the Scottish language. It is of considerable merit, and for the sake of showing the style of this period we insert the opening lines. The ballad is called " Robeno and Makync." " Eobene sat on gud grene hill, Keipand a flock of fie, Mirry Makyne said him till Eobene thou rew on me, I haef the lovit lowd and still, Thes yieris two or thre, My dule in dern bot gif thou dill, Doubtless bot dreid I die.'* William Dunbar. — (Born 1465, died 1520), may truly be considered in the first rank of the old Scot^ tish poets. He wrote a beautiful poem, and called it *' The Thistle and the Eose," upon the au82)iciou8 occasion of the marriage of James IVth to Margaret Tudor, the eldest daughter of Henry Vllth of Eng- land, a marriage auspicious and momentous indeed, as it led in after years to the ultimate reunion of the crowns of the two kingdoms of England and Scotland in the person of James YIth of Scotland and 1st of England. Dunbar was a constant attender at the court of king James IV th, but at last died compara- tivelj" neglected. blSTORY OF SCOITISH SONG. ll Gavin Douglas was the bishop of Dunkeld, and is well known to classical scholars by his translation of the beautiful ^neid of the Latin poet Virgil. This is the earliest translation, and preceded any other versification in English. All that the English then knew of this favorite classic was from a romance on the siege of Troy and published by the renowned Caxton. Bishop Douglas very humorously pro- nounces this romance " to be no more like Yirgil than the devil is like St. Austin." Sir David Lyndsay — (born 1490, died 1557), when a boy was the page and companion of James Yth. He espoused the principles of the Reformation, and became a stern and firm supporter of the cause, not only by his dramas and satirical descriptions but by the influence which he exerted. He wrote many poems ; perhaps his best is " Squire Meldrum." We have now ai*rived at the time of James Vth, " The King of the Commons," that aierry, yet unfor- tunate monarch who is so well known in Scottish History. He was in the habit of strolling about the country incognito with the double reason, no doubt, of indulging his natural love of adventure and of ascertaining the real wants and undisguised opinions of his ^people. This king is said to have been the author of two songs well known to every Scotchman, viz., « The Gaberlunzie Man" and " The Jolly_Beg- gar." Every one knows these words : " We'll gang nae mair a-roving, a-roving in the night, We'll gang nae mair a-roving, tho' the moon shine ne'er so bright." Tho story of the i' Gudeman of Bullangeioch" is 12 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. well known, and Sir Walter Scott has immortalized this king in his " Lady of the Lake." James also wrote a well-known poem '' Chrisfs Kirk on the Green.'" He died in 1542, at Falkland Castle, of a slow fever brought on by excessive grief at the news of the defeat of his army at the battle of Solway Moss. He left only one child, a daughter, the beautiful and unfortunate Jfary Queen of Scots. Kitson sjDeaks of this princess thus; "Not less remarkable for the accomplishments of her mind than for the beauty of her person, she wrote the most elegant songs and sung them to her lute like an angel." He admits, however, that all her compositions wore in the French language. These two last reigns, vi^;., those of James Vth and Mary tended much to improve the musical tastes of the Scottish nation. Queen Mary had two secreta- ries, named respectively David Eizzio and Chatelar, the first an Italian, the other a Frenchman. They were both good musicians and " encouraged a love of music among the frequenters of Queen Mary's court, and thus they influenced, to a greater or less degree the love of it among the common people. It is said that many song tunes now considered Scotch were ascribed to Chatelar and are evidently of French origin and that Scotland is indebted to Eizzio for a number of its melodies." This opinion, is, however, contradicted by other writers. In the memoirs of Sir James Melville it is recorded " Queen Mary had three valets who sang three parts and she wanted a person to sing a bass or fourth part. David Eizzio who had come with the ambassador of Savoy was HisToar OP SCOTTISH soNa. 13 recommended as one fit to make the fourth in concert and thus he was drawn in to sing sometimes vv^ith the rest and afterwards, when her French secretary retired himself to France ; this David Eizzio obtained the same office." The poet Bell beautifully speaks of these men in his "Queen Mary;" " The scene was changed. It wis an eve of raw and surly mood, And in a turret-chamber high of ancient Holyrood Sat Mary, list'ning to the rain, and sighing with the winds That seem'd to suit the stormy state of men's uncer- tain minds. The touch of care had blanch'd her cheek — her smile was sadder now, The weight of royalty had press'd too heavy on her brow; And traitors to her councils came, and rebels to the field; The Stuart sceptre well she sway'd, but the sword she could not wield. She thought of all her blighted hopes — the dreams of youth's brief day, And summoned Eizzio with his lute, and bade the minstrel play The songs she loved in early years — the songs of gay Navarre, The songs perchance that erst were sung by gallant Chatelar ; They half beguiled her of her cai-es, they soothed her into smiles, 14 History op Scottish sono. They won her thoughts froi^ bigot zeal and fierce domestic broils." During the reign of Queen Mary the times were too troublesome for the cultivation of the Muses and hence we find few poetical names in this epoch. Alexander Scot, the Scottish Anacreon, is the only one whose lyrics are worth mentioning. His princi- pal one is named " Address to his Heart." It might appear with little change as a modern production. The first stanza reads thus : " Eeturn thee hamewart, Hairt, agane, And byde quhair thou wast wont to be ; Thou art ane fule to suffer pane For love of her that loves not thee. My hairt, lat be sic fantesie ; Love nane hot as they mak thee cause ; And let her seik ane hairt for thee ; For feind a crum of thee sche fawis. Whilst the Reformation in England had been the means of consigning to oblivion or to popular hatred and detestation very many of the ancient songs and song tunes in Scotland, such was the musical love and ardour of the inhabitants that many of the familiar and old airs were sung to secular words. " Many beautiful Roman Catholic chants then became secular, and such as * John I come kiss me now /' — ' Auld Lang Syne' — * John Anderson my Jo' — and * We're a' noddin', nid, nid, noddin', which belonged to the cathedral services of both England and Scotland, were then appropriated to purposes of profane parodies, and sung sometimes in ridicule of that church from which they had been taken and sometimes to words of a HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 15 more objectionable character." Whilst Sidney and Spenser and other poets were illustrating the glori- ous reign of Good Queen Bess (Queen Elizabeth) of England, the Muses in Scotland were not altogether neglected. "There was very little intercourse between the two countries, and the works of the English bards seem to have been comparatively unknown in the north and to have had no imitators in Scotland. The country was then in a rude and barbarous state, tyrannized over by the nobles and torn by feuds and dissensions. In England the Reformation had proceeded from the throne and was accomplished with little violence or disorder. In Scotland, however, it uprooted the whole form of society, and was marked by fierce contentions and lawless turbulence. The absorbing influence of this ecclesiastical struggle was unfavorable to the cultiva- tion of poetry. It shed a gloomy spirit over the nation, and almost proscribed the study of romantic literature. The drama, which in England was the nurse of so many fine thoughts, so much stormy pas- sion and beautiful imagery, was shunned as a very leprosy fatal to religion and morality. The very songs of Scotland then partook of this religious character, and so widely was the polemical spirit diffused that Alexander Scot in his ^ New Year gift to the Queen.' written in the year 1562, says, * That limmer lads and little lasses too, will ai*gue baithe with bishop, priest and friar.' " . After Scot came Alexander Hume, minister of Logie, who wrote in 1599 a book of hymns or sacred songs. The accession of James YIth, of Scotland, to 16 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. the English throne, and the union of the two coun- ti'ies and crowns in 1603; at first had a very unfavora- ble influence on Scottish poetry and song. Indepen- dent of James' partiality for his native language and countrymen, his mother tongue, non-sanctioned by the gay court of England, soon ceased to be used by writers of reputation, and the leading and best poets of the country sang in English strains and cultivated the English language instead of the Scotch. A few of these may be mentioned here : William Alexan- der, Earl of Stirling, who died in 1640. Sir Robert Aytoun, Secretary to Queen Anne, of Denmark who was wife of James YIth. William Drummond, of Hawthornden, died 1649. These were the most illustrious names. But although this period was des- titute of any great song writer, still some very old and favorite and well-known songs were now com- posed, but who composed them, for what purpose, or on what occasion, is all lost in obscurity, and is now only matter of speculation and conjecture. Some of the principal songs are the following : " Birks of Abergeldy;' " Maggie's Tocher," " TodUn Same^* " The Ewerhuchts" '^Jocky said to Jenny," " Auld Bob ifoms,'' composed 1692, "7n January last," ^'Leezie Lindsay,"^" Nancy's to the Greenwood gone" This song highly humorous, and at one time veiy popular appears in print in 1726. Eamsay states that in his day it was of an unknown age and considered a very old song. " Although Ibe but a country lass." This song is not so old as the preceding. It appears in the Tea Table Miscellany and also appears in " Fills to purge Melancholy f" published 1700. "The Barring of the door" HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 17 " Ower the hills and far awa,'' " Ettrick Banks,'' " Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,'' &c., &c. J3IRKS OF ABERGELDY. This song gave rise to Burns' " Birks of Aborfeldy." It is very old. In a book called Playford's Dancing Master, printed A. D. 1657, this song and tune are found. The words are : — Bonnie lassie will ye go Will ye go, will ye go, Bonnie lassie, will ye go, To the Birks of Abergeldy ? Ye sail get a gown of silk, A gown of silk, a gown of silk^ Ye sail get a gown of silk, And coat of callimankie. No, kind sir, I dar na gang, I dar na gang, I dar na gang. No kind sir, I dar na gang, My minny will be angry. Sair, sair, wad she flyte, Wad she flyte, wad she flyte, Sair, sail', wad she flyte, And sair wad she ban me. 18 HiSTORr OP SCOTTISH SONG. LEEZIE LINDSAY. This is a very old ballad, and sometimes much lengthened by other verses. Will ye gang to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay ? Will ye gang to the Hielands wi' me ? Will ye gang to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay ? My bride and my darling to be ? To gang to the Hielands wi' you sir, I dinna ken how that may be, For I ken nae the land that ye live in. Nor ken I the lad I'm gaun wi'. O Leezie, lass, ye maun ken little, If sae be ye dinna ken me ; For my name is Lord Eonald Macdonald, A chieftain o' high degree. Gin ye be the laird o' Clan Ronald, A great ane I ken ye maun be ; But how could a chieftain sae mighty Think on a puir lassie like me ? She has kilted her coats o' green satin, She has kilted them up to the knee ; An' she's aff wi' Lord Ronald Macdonald, His bride and his darling to be. HISTORT OI" SCOTTISH SONG. 19 THE EWE-BUCHTS. The words and tuno of this song are of great anti- quity, and at this era wore great favorites. They appeai-ed in the Orpheus Caledonius, published A. D. 1725, and belong to a far earlier period. The words are: — Will ye gae to the ewe-buchts, Marion, And wear in the sheep wi' me ? The sun shines sweet, my Marion, But nae half sae sweet as thee. Oh Marion's a bonny lass, And the blythe blink's in her e'e ; And fain wad I marry Marion, Gin Marion wad marry me. There's gowd in your garters, Marion, And silk in your white hause-bane j Fu' fain wad I kiss mv Marion, At e'en, when I come hame. There's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, Wha gape and glower in their e'e. At kirk when they see my Marion, But nane o' them lo'es like me. I've nine milk-ewes, my Marion, A cow e-^d a brawny quoy, I'll gie them a' to my Marion, Just on her bridal day. 20 RISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG, And ye'se get a green sey apron, And waiscoat o' London broun, And vow but ye'se be vap'rin, Whene'er yo gang to the toun. I'm young and stout, my Marion, Nano dances like mc on the green, And, gin ye forsake me, Marion, I'll e'en gae draw up wi' Jean. Sac, put on your pearlins, Marion, And kii'tle o' cramasie ; And as sure as my chin has nao hair on, I will come west and see yo. After the publication of Hume's sacred songs with the excej)tion of the stray songs already mentioned, *' The Scotish Muse (says Chambers) lay dormant for nearly a century except when it found brief ex- pression in some stray song of broad humour or sim- ple pathos, chanted by the population of the hills and dales. The genius of the country was at last revived in all its force and nationality, its c By a' the rest it is confest, By a' the rest that she sings best. My Peggy sings sae saftly, And in her sangs are tauld, Wi' innocence, the wale o' sense, At wauking o' the fauld. He also wrote : — " The Flower of Yarrow,'* " Busk ye B^isk ye," " Tfie Yellow Haired Laddie,'' " Bessie Bell and Mary Grey^' " Gle me a Lass," " The Lily of the Vale,'' "An thou were my ain thing," " An auld Man," and " Bonnie Christie." There is another which has received a world-wide celebrity and has historic associations second to none. Played upon the pibroch when the Highlanders as emigrants have left their native heather hills to become exiles in a foreign land, it partakes almost of a national character, and when we add that on account of the influence it exerted on HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 23 Highland Regiments on foreign service it has been for- bidden by the War Office of Britain to be played by any Highland corps whilst serving abroad, this too adds interest to the song. It is stated that a largo percentage of the men of one of our best Highland Begiments whilst serving in India were always sick and in hospital with no virulent or fatal disease of the country. On examination by melex us, poor sons of a day ? Thy frowns cannot fear me, Thy smiles cannot cheer me, For the Flowers of the Forest are withered away. Another song of this period is a great and uni- versal favorite. The author of it is unknown. Some say that Mr, Douglas of Findland wrote it upon Annie, daughter of Sir Eobort Laurie of the Barony of Max- "welton. They found their assertion on the fact that a copy of the song was found on him when he fell in battle. This song was long popular throughout the south of Scotland, Maxwelton being a place in Dum- frioshire. A lady who altered the original song pro- duced the Annie Laurie of modern popularity. This song was a very great favorite with the British Army during the Russian war of the Crimea. It is related the evening before the bloody battlo of Inkerman, a young Scottish soldier at his tent door commenced singing Annie Laurie, immediately a large number of men of the different corps near began to take it up, and the plaintive sweet notes were borne far away on the passing breeze and towards Sebastopol. Num- bers of those w^ho sang it, a few hours later were sleep- ing that sleep which knows no waking on the bloody- field of battlo. There are two versions of this song, 32 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. each wonderfulb^ tender, and sweet, and chaste for the age in which they were written. The modern version is here given : — ANNIE LAUEIE. Maxw^elton braes are bonnie, Where"early';_fa'8 the dew. And its there that Annie Laurie Gied mo her promise true, Gied me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot shall bo. An' for bonny Annie Laurie I'd lay mo down and dee. Her brow is like the snaw drift, Her throat is like the swan, Ilcr face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on, That e'er the sun shone on, And^dark blue is her e'e. And for bonny Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee. Like dew on the gi)wan lying, Is the fa' o' her fairy feet, And like winds in summer sighing, Her voice is low and sweet, Her voice is low and sweet. And she's a' the world to me, And for bonnie Annie Laurie, I'd lay me down and dee. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 33 At this period, 1772, Lady Anne Lindsay, or Ber- nard, composed " Auld Bohin Gray,^^ one of the most perfect, tender and affecting of all the ballads of cither the Scottish or English languages. Indeed, it has been styled, and that truly, " The king of all tho Scottish ballads." A very old version having been sung to the young family of the Earl of Balcaras, in Fife, Lady Anne, one of the daughters, was particu- larly impressed with its melody and beauty. Taking the name of the old cow-herd of her father's home- farm, Eobin Gray, by name, she represented a young maiden as obliged by family misfortunes, to accept him for a lover and husband, and then make her become overwhelmed with grief when she found her youthful lover and sweetheart, supposed to bo dead, still alive. As soon as it was composed and set to an ancient and j)opular air it became a universal favorite, and to this day maintains its place among the ballads of Scotland. AULD ROBUST GEAY. When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame, And a' tho world to sleep are gane; The waes o' my heart fa' in showors fraj my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed mo weol, and he sought mo for his bride ; But saving a crown he had naething beside. To mak the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea ; And the crown and the pound were baith for me. c* 34 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. He hadna been gane a week but only twa, When my father brake his arm, and our cow was stown awa, My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me. My father couldna work, and my mither doughtna spin ; I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win ; Auld Eob maintain'd them baith, and ^vi' tears in his e'e. Said, " Jenny, for their sakes, marry me !"' My heart it said nay — I look'd for Jamie back ; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack. The ship it was a wrack ; why didna Jenny dee ? Oh ! wiiy was I spared to cry, Wae's me I My father argued sair ; my mither didna speak, She look'd in my lace till my heart was like to break. So they gied him my hand, tho' my heart was at the sea, Now aulil Robin Gray is gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sac mournfully ae night at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna tliink it he, Till he said, "I'm come back, love, to marry thee." sair did we greet, and muckle did wo say ; Wo took but ao kiss, and wo tore ourselves away. 1 wish'd I were dead ; but I'm no like to of a good kin ; Aft has she wet tbj bairns' mou', And I am laith that she sliould tyne, Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time, The sun shines in the lift sao hie ; Sloth never made a gracious end, Sae tak' your auld cloak about yc. My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak, When it was fitting for my wear ; But now it's scantly worth a groat, For I ha'e worn't this thirty year. Let's spend the gear that we ha'e won, We little ken the day we'll die ; Then I'll be proud, for I hae sworn To ha'e a new cloak about me. In days when gude King Robert rang, His trews they cost but half-a-crown ; He said they were a groat ower dear, And ca'd the tailor thief and 'oon, He was the king that wore the crown, And thour't a man o' low degree; 'Tis pride puts a' the country down, Sae tak' your auld cloak about yo. The Rev. John Skinner deserves a place hero among the song writers of "Auld Scotia," if it wore for no other piece thuu " Tullochgorum." This 38 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. song greatly tended to allay the fierce, rancorous feelings between the Whigs and Tories which ran so hi^h in the stirring and exciting times of " Bonnie Prince Charlie," and after the fatal and bloody field of CuUoden. He also wrote ^^ John of Badenyon,'' " When I began the World," but his chief song is " The Ewie wV the crookit Horn,'" which is a favorite old Scottish lyric, and justly ranked amongst the first class of that species of Poetry to which it belongs. The first verse of Tullochgorum is given as an oxam. pie of his style. Burns says that this song is " first of songs." The origin of the song is as follows : The author and others were dining in a lady's house named Montgomery in Ellon, Aberdeenshire. After dinner there arose political disputes, and the lady seeing how things would end asked for a song, and Mr. Skinner produced immediately the song. It was first printed A. D. 1*176: " Come, gie's a song, Montgomery cried, And lay your disputes all aside, What signifios't for folks to chide. For what's been done before them ; Let Whig and Tory all agree. Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, Let Whig and Tory all agree. To drop their Whig-mig-morum. Lot Whig and Tory all agree. To spend the night in mirth and gieo, And cheerfu' sing alang wi' mo, The reel of TuUochgorum. &ISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 89 The following fine JacoWte songs are here inserted as they appropriately follow Skinner's Tullochgorum : O'EE THE WATERS. Come, boat me ower, come, row me owor, Come, boat me ower to Charlie ; I'll gi'e John Eoss another bawbee, To ferry mo ower to Charlie. We'll over the water and over the sea, We'll over the water to Charlie ; Come weel, come woe, we'll gather and go. And live and die wi' Charlie. It's weel I lo'e my Charlie's name. Though some there bo that abhor him ; But O, to see Auld Nick gaun hame. And Charlie's faos before him ! I swear by moon and stars sao bricht. And the sun that glances early, If I had twenty thousand lives, I'd gi'e them a' for Charlie. I ancc had sons, I now ha'e naiio ; I bred them, toiling sairly; And I wad bear thorn a' again, And lose them a' for Charlie I 40 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. THE HUNDRED PIPEES. BARONESS NAIRN. Charles Edward entered Carlisle preceded by a hundred pipers. Two thousand Highlanders crossed the Esk at Longtown ; the tide being swollen, nothing was seen of them but their heads and shoulders, they stemmed the force of the stream, and lost not a man in the passage. When landed, the pipers struck up, and they danced reels until they were dry again. Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', We'll up an' gi'e them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Oh, it's owre the border awa', awa,' It's owre the border awa', awa', We'll on, an' we'll march to Carlisle ha', Wi' its yetts, its castles, an' a', an' a', Chorus — Vf i' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', We'll uj) an' gi'e them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers au' a', an' a'. Oh, our sodger lads looked braw, looked braw, ■ Wi' their tartan Ijilts an' a,' an' a', Wi' their bonnets, and fcathei-s, and glittering gear, An' pibrochs sounding sweet and clear. Will thoy a' return to their ain dear glen ? Will they a' return, our Highland men ? Sccond-sichted Sandy looked fu' wae, And mithers grat when thoy marched away, HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 41 Ob, wha is foremost o' a', o' a', Oh, wha does follow the blaw, the blaw ? Bonnie Charlie, the king o' us a', hurrah ! Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an' a'. His bonnet and feathers he's waving high ! His prancing steed maist seems to fly ! The nor'-win plays wi' his curly hair ! While the pipers blaw wi' an unco flare ! The Esk was swollen sae red and sao deep ; But shouther tae shouther the brave lads keep, Twa thousand swam owro to fell English ground. An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound. Dumfoundered, the English saw, they saw, — Dumfoundered, they heard the blaw, the blaw ! Dumfoundered, they a' ran awa,' awa', Frae the hundred pipers an' a', an' a'. ROYAL CHARLIE. The news frae Moidart cam' yestreen, Will soon gar mony ferlie, For ships o' war have just come in, An' landed Royal Charlie I Come through the heather. Around him gather, Ye're a' the welcomer early, Around him cling wi' a' your kin. For wha'll bo king but Charlie? 42 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Come through the heatlier, around hira gather, Corao Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegithor, And crown him rightfu', lawful king, For wha'll bo king but Charlie ? The nigh land clans wi' sword in hand, Frae John o' Groats to Airly, Ha'e to a man declared to stand Or fa' wi' royal Charlie. Come through, &c. The Lowlands a', baith great and sma', Wi' mony a lord an' laird, ha'e Declared for Scotia's king an' law, An' spier ye wha but Charlie ? Come through, &c. There's ne'er a lass in a' the land. But vows baith late an' early. To man she'll ne'er gi'e heart or hand, Wha wadna fecht for Charlie. Come through, &c. Then here's a health to Charlie's cause, An' be't complete and early, Ilis very name my heart's blood warms,- To arms for royal Charlie ! Come through, &c. niSTORT OF SCOTTISH SONG. ^ .43 HE'S OWRE THE HILLS. BARONESS NAIRN. - He's owro the hills that I lo'e wool, He's owre the hills wo daurna name, He's owro the hills ayont Dunblane, Wha soon will get his welcome harae. My father's gane to fecht for him, My brithers winna bide at hamo, My mither greets and prays for them, And 'deed she thinks they're no to blame, He's owro the hills, &c. The Whigs may scoff, the Whigs may jeer, But ah ! that love maun bo sincere. Which still keeps true whate'er betide, . An' for his sake leaves a' beside, He's owre the hills, &c. His right these hills, his right these plains ; O'er Hieland hearts secure he reigns ; What lads e'er did our laddie will do ; Were I a laddie, I'd follow him too. He's owro the hills, &c. Sao noble a look, sae princely an air, Sae gallant and bold, sae young and sae fair; Oh ! did ye but see him, yo'd do as we've done ; Hear him but ance, to his standard you'll run. He's owre the hills, &c. 44 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Then draw the claymore, for Charlie then fight, For your country, religion, and a' that is right ; Vfevo ten thousand UvjOs now given to me, I'd dee as aft for ano o' the three ! Ue'fci owre the hills, &c. WHEN THE KING COMES OWllE THE WATEK. Lady Mary Drummond, daughter of the Earl of Perth, was the heroine of this song, and is also supposed to be the author of it. So strongly 'w^as she attached to the Stuarts, that when her two sons returned to Scotland, she never ceased to importune them, notwithstanding the fearful danger attending it, till they engaged actively in the cause of the exiled family. I may sit in my wee croo house, At the rock and the reel to toil fu' dreary; I may think on the days that's gaue, And sigh and sab till I grow woarj^-. I ne'er could brook, I ne'er could brook, A foreign loon to own or flatter ; But I will sing anither sang. That day our king comes owre the water. gin I live to see the day, That I ha'c begged, and begged frae heaven, I'll fling my rock and reel away, And dance and sing frae morn till oven : For there is ane I winna name, That comes the reigning bike to scatter ; And I'll put on my bridal gown, That day our king comes owre the water. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONO. 45 I ha'e seen the guid aiild day, The day o' pride and chieftain glory, When royal Stuarts bore the sway, And ne'er heard toll o' Whig nor Toi-y. Though lyart be my locks and grey. And eild has crook'd mo down — what matter ? I'll sing and dance ae ither day, That day our king comes owi'O tho water. A curse on dull and drawling Whig, Tho whining, ranting, low deceiver, Wi' heart sao black and look sae big, * And canting tongue o' clishmaclaver ! My father was a good lord's son. My mother was an earl's daughter, And I'll be Ladv Keith again, That day our king comes owre tho water. WILL YOU NO COME BACK AGAIN. Bonnie Charlie's now awa' Safely oavi'O tho friendly main ; Mony a heart will break in twa. Should he ne'er como back again. Will you no como back again ? Will you no como back again? Better lo'ed ye canna bo — Will you no come back again ? 46 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH BONG. Yo trusted in vour Hieland men, They trusted j-'ou, dear Charlie ; They kent you hiding in the glen, Death or exile braving. Will you no, &c. English bribes were a' in vain, Tho' puir, and puirer wo maun bo : Siller canna buy tho heart That boats aye for thino and thee. Will 3^ou no, &c. Wo watched thee in the gloaming hour, Wo watched thee in the morning gray, Tho' thirty thousand pounds they gie, Oh, there is nano that wad betray. Will you no, &c. Sweet's the laverock's note an' lang, Lilting wildly up tho glen ; But aye to me he sings a'o sang, Will you no come back again ? Will you no, &c. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 47 THE WEE, WEE GEEMAN LATRDIE. This is one of the most spirited of all tue Jacobite songs and one of the most popular. It was probably written after the accession of George I to the throne of England in 1714, but when or where it first appeared is now unknown. The above version first ap- peared in Hogg's " Jacobite Relics of Scotland," in 1819, Wha the doil hae we gotten for a king, But a wee, weo German Lairdio ; When wo gaed owre to bring him hamo, lie was dolvin' in his kail-yardie, Ho was eheughing kail, and hiying leeks, Without the hose, and but the brooks, And Tip his beggar duds he clceks. This wee, woe German Lairdie. And he's clappit down in our gudeman's chair, The wee, weo German Lairdie ; And he's brought fouth o' his foreign trash, And dibbled them in his yardio. He's pu'd tho rose o' English loons. And broken the harp o' Irish clowns ; But our Scotch thistle will jag his thumbs. This wee, wee Gorman Lairdie. Come uj) amang our Hieland hills, Thou weo, wee German Lairdie, And see the Stuart's lang kail thrive, They hae dibbled in our kail-yardie. And if a stock ye daur to pu'. Or baud the yokin' o' a plough, We'll break your sceptre ower your mou', Ye feckless German Lairdie. 48 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Aiild Scotland, thoii'rt owor cauld a liole, For nursin' siccan vermin ; But the very dogs in England's court, They bark and howl in German. Then keep thy dib1)le in thy ain hand, Thy spado but and thy yardie ; For wha the deil now claims j'our land, But a wee, weo Gorman Lairdie. WHA'S FOE SCOTLAND AND CHARLIE ? 0, wha's for Scotland and Charlie ? 0, wha's for Scotland and Charlie ? He's come o'er the sea, To his ain countrie, Now wha's for Scotland and Charlie? Awa, awa, auld carlie, Awa, awa, auld carlie, Gi'e Charlie his crown. And let him sit down, Whar yo've boon sae lang, auld carlie. It's up in the morning early, It's up in the morning early, The bonny white rose, The plaid and the hose, Are on for Scotland and Charlie. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 49 The swords are drawn now fairly; The swords aro drawn now fairly; The swords tlioy are drawn, And the pipes they ha'o blawn A pibx'och for Scotland and Charlie. The flags arc fleeing fu' rarely, The flags are fleeing fii' rarely ; And Charlie's awa' To see his ain ha', And to bang his facs right sairly. Then wha's for Scotland and Charlie ? Then wha's for Scotland and Charlie ? He's come o'er the sea To his ain countrie; Then wha's for Scotland and Charlie? RISE ! RISE ! LOWLAND AND niGHLANDMEN. Rise ! rise ! lowland and highlandmen ! Bald sire to beardJbss son, each come, and early ; Rise ! rise ! mainland and islandmen, Belt on your broad claymore — fight for Prince Charlie. Down from the mountain steep- Up from the valley deep — P 50 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Out from tho clachan, the bothy and shieling, Bugle and battle-drum, Bid chief and vassal come, Loudly our bagpipes the pibroch arc pealing ! Rise ! rise ! lowland and highlandmen ! Bald sire to beardless son, each come, and early ; Else ! rise ! mainland and islandmen, Belt on your broad claymores — fight for Prince Charlie ! Men of the mountains, descendants of heroes ! Heirs of tho fame and hills of your fathers ; Say shall the southron — the Sassenach fear us. When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers ! Long on the trophied walls Of your ancestral halls, Rust hath been blunting the armour of Albin : Seize, then, ye mountain Macs, Buckler and battle-axe, Lads of Lochabor, Braemar, and Brcdalbin! Rise ! rise ! lowland and highlandmen ! Bald sire to beardless son, each come, and early ; Rise ! rise ! mainland and islandmen, Belt on your broad claymores — fight for Prince Charlie ! When hath the tartan pluid mantled a coward? When tlid tho blue l)oi)net crest the disloyal 't Up, then, and crowd to the standard of Stuart, Follow your leader — the rightful — the royal I Chief of Clanronald, And Donald Macdonald ! HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 51 Come Lovat ! Locliiel ! with the Grant and the Gordon ! Eouso every kilted ehm, Rouse every loyal man. Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on ! Rise ! rise ! lowland and highlandmen ! Bald sire to beardless son, each come, and early ; Rise ! rise! mainland and islandmen, Belt on your broad claymores — tight tor Prince Charlie ! THE GALLANT MONTPvOSE. The gallant Montrose has his pennon unfurrd, His foot in the stirrup, his face to the woi'Id ; He spurs to the Highlands, his liege men to l»ring, And marshall his clans to the aid of the king. Up, up and away, in battle or fray. Be the deeds of vour fathers remember'd to dav. The pibroch is sounding o'er forest and fell, The clang of the chu'niore is heard in the dell ; Five thousand blue l>onnets arc seeking the foes Of bonnie Prince Charles and tlu^ gallant ^lontrose. Up, up and away, &c. There's strife in the Lowlands, tlie Campbells are nigh, Argyll and the Covenant; hark to the cry : The trumpets ring shrill o'er the waters of Forth, The Graham is upon them, like hail from the north. Up, uj> and away, &c. 52 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. The haughty Argyll to his stronghold has flod, The flower of the Campbells lies striciven and dead ; So true to his king, and so stout to his foes, ! where is the lord like the lord of Montrose. Up, up and away, «!tc. The following are some old songs: — IIAME CAM' OUR GUDEMAN AT EEN. There is an allusion here to hiding or harboring one of Prince Charlie's men " Ye're hidin' Tories in the house." In Lady Drum- mond's song she says : " A curse on dull and drawling Whig," intended for the king's followers and supporters. Hame cam' our gudeman at e'en; And hame cam' he, And there he saw a saddle horse. Where hor^e sud na be. Oh ! how's this ? and w^hat's this? And wha's may he be ? How cam' this horse here Without the leave o' me ? Ye silly, blind, doited carle, And blinder may ye be : It's but a bonnie milk cow My minnie sent to me. Milk cow I quo' he ; ay, milk cow, quo' shej far hae I ridden, and ftirer hao I gacn, But a saddle on a milli cow, Saw I never nane. HISTORr OP SCOTTISH SONG. i63 Hamc cam* our guderaan at o'cn, And hame cam' he, And there he saw a siller sword, Where nae sic sword sud be. How's this ? and what's this ? And how cam' this to be ? How cam' this sword here Without the leave o' mo ? Ye stupid, auld, doited carle, Ye're unco blind I see ; It's but a bonnie parritch-stick My minnie sent to me. Parritch-stick I quo' he ; ay, parritch-stick, quo' sho ; Far hae I ridden, aad meikle hae I seen, But siller mounted parritch-sticks, Saw I never nane. Hamc cam' our gudeman at e'en, And hame cam' ho. And there he saw a feather cap, Where nae cap sud be. How's this ? and what's this ? And how cam' this to be ? How cam' this bannet hero Without the leave o' me ? Ye're a silly, auld, donard bodic. And unco blind I sec ; It's but a tappit clocken hen, My minnie sent to mo. A clocken hen ! quo' ho ; a clocken hen, quo* she ; Far hao I ridden, and farer hae I gaen, But white cockades on clocken liens, Saw I never nunc. 54 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Ben the house gaed the giideman, And ben gaed he, And there he spied a Ilieland plaid. Where nae plaid should be. How's this ? and what's this ? And how cam' this to be ? How cam' the plaid here Without the leave o' me ? hooly, hoolj', my gudeman, And dinna anger'd be ; It cam' wi' cousin M'Intosh, Frae the north countrie. Your cousin ! quo' he; aye, cousin, quo' she; Blind as ye may jibe me, I've sight enough to see, Yo're hidin' Tories in the house, Without the leave o' me. WHEK YE GANG AW A,' JAMIE. When yo gang awa', Jamie, Far across the sea, laddie ; When ye gang to (Jermanie, What will yo send to me, laddie? I'll send yo a braw new gown, Jeanio, I'll send ye a braw new gown, lassie, And it shall be o' silk and gowd, AVi' YaleiU'iennes set round, lassie. That's nae gift ava', Jamie, That's nae gift ava', laddie; There's ne'er a gown in a' the land, I'd like when ye'rc uwa', laddie. aiSTORY OF SCOTTISH SOJIG. 55 When I come back again, Jeanie, When I come back again, lassie, I'll bring wi' me a gallant gay, To be your ain guidman, lassie. Be my guidman yoursel', Jamie, Be my guidman yoursel', laddie, And tak' me owre to Germanie, Wi' you at hame to dwell, laddie. I dinna ken how that wad do, Jeanie, I dinna ken how that can be, lassie, For I've a wife and bairnies three, And I'm no sure how ye'd 'grce, lassie. You should ha'e telt me that in time, Jamie, You should ha'e telt me that in time, laddie, For had I kent o' your fause heart, You ne'er had gotten mine, laddie. Your een were like a spell, Jeanie, Your een were like a spell, lassie, That ilka da}^ bewitched me sae, I could na help mysel', lassie. Gae back to your wMfo and hame, Jamie, Gae back to your bairnies three, laddie, And I will i)ray they ne'er may tholo A broken heart like mine, laddie. ■'; Dry that tcarfii' c'e, Jeanie, My story's a' a lee, lassie, I've neither wife nor bairnies three, And I'll wed nane but thee, lassie. 66 hist;ory of Scottish soNa Think weel before ye me, Jamie, Think weel for fear ye rue, laddie, For I have neither gowd nor lands, To be a n^tch for you, laddie. Blair in Athol's mine, Jeanie, Little Dunkeld is mine, lassie. Saint Johnston's bower, and Hunting tower, An' a' that's mine is thine, lassie. GET UP ANB BAR THE DOOR. It fell about the Mart'mas time And a gay time it was then, When our gudewife had puddings to mak' And she boil'd them in the pan, ! The wind blew cauld frae north to south^ And blew into the floor, O I Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, " Get up and bar the door, O I " " My hand is in my husswyfskip, Gudeman, as ye may sec, O I An' it should na bo barr'd this hundrctl year, It's no bo barr'd for me, 01" They made a paction 'tween them twa,] They made it firm and sure, O ! Whaever spak' the foremost word, Should rise and bar the door, O ! History of bcot'pish song. St Then by there came twa gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night, O ! And they could neither see house nor ha' Nor coal nor candle light, O ! Now, whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor, ? But never a word wad ane o' them speak For barring o' the door, O 1 And first they ate the white puddings, And then they ate the black, I Tho' muckle thought the gudewife to herself Yet ne'er a word she spak', O ! Then said the ane unto the other — " Here, man, tak' ye my knife, ! Do ye talc' aff to the auld man's beard, And I'll kise the gudewife, ! " But there's nac water in tho house, And what shall we do then, O ? " " What ails you at the puddin' bree That boils into the pan, ? " up then started our gudeman, And an angry man was ho, O ! "Will ye kfss ray wife before my een, And scaud me wi' puddin' bree, 01" Then up and started our gudewife, Gied three skips on the floor, ! " Gudeman, ye'vc spoken the foremost word, Get up and bar the door, 0! " 58 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. THE BOATIE HOWS. This song, says Burns, nearly equals '^ There's nae luck about the House." It first appeared in Johnson's Museum, and became very po])ular at the end of the last century and still continues to be so. It was written by John Ewen, a native of Montrose, who died in Aber- deen, 1821, — in his 80th year. " It is a charming display of womanly affection mingling with the con- cerns and occupations of life." These are the words of Scotia's greatest song writer, who highly appreciated it. O ! wcel may the boatie row, And better may she speed ; And liesomc may the boatie row That wins my bairns's bread ; The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed ; And wecl may the boatie row, That wins my bairns's bread. When' Jamie vow'd he wad be mine, And wan frae me my heart, O ! muckle lighter grew my creel. He swore we'd never part : The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu' weel, And muckle lighter is the load, When love bears up the creel. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONCf. 5& When Sawny, Jock, an' Janetic, Are up and gotten lair ; They'll help to gar the boatie row, And lighten a' our care. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fii' weel, And lightsome be her heart that bears The merlin and the creel. And whan wi' age we're worn down. And hirpling round the door. They'll help to keep us dry and warm. As we did them before ; Then weel may the boatie row, She wins the bairns's bread ; And happy be the lot o' a,' That wish the boatie speed. The following two songs are from the pen of Lady Baroness Nairn,whose two beautiful Jacobite songs are already given. CALLER HEKRIN'. "VVha'll buy my caller herrin' ? There bonnie fish and halesome farin', Buy my ca,ller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth. When ye are slcepin' on your pillows, Drear- 'J ye ought o' our puir fellows, Darkling ae they face the billows, A' to fill our woven willows. ^ HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Buy my caller herrin', They're bonnie fish and halesome farin', Buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth. Wha'll buy my caller herrin', They're no brought here without brave darin* ; Buy my caller herrin', Ye little ken their worth. Wha'll buy my caller herrin', O ye may ca' them vulgar farin' ; Wives and mitkers maist despairin', Ca' them lives o' men. Koo a' ye lads at herrin' fishing, Costly vanipins, dinner dressing. Sole or turbot, how diatressing, Fine folks scorn shoals o' blessing. Wha'll buy, &c. And when the creel o' herrin' passes, Ladies clad in silks and laces, Gather in their braw pelisses. Cast their heads and screw their faces. Wha'll buy, &c. Noo necbonr' wives come tent my tolling. When the bonnie fish ye're selling, At a word aye be your dealing, Truth will stand when a' things failing. Wha'll buy, &c. tiiSTORY Oi* SCOTTISH SONG. di THE ROWAN TREE. Oh ! rowan tree, oh I rowan tree, thou'lt aye be dear to me;- Entwin'd thou art wi' mony ties o' hame and infancy. Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring, thy flow'rs the simmer's pride ; There was na sic a bonnie tree in a' the country side. Oh ! rowan tree. How fair wert thou in simmer time, wi' a' thy clusters white ; How rich and gay thy autumn dress, wi' berries red and bright ; On thy fair stem were mony names which now nae mair I see, But they're engraven on my heart, forgot they ne'er can be. Oh I rowan tree. We sat aneath thy spreading shade, the bairnies round thee ran. They pu'd thy bonnie berries red, and necklaces they Strang ; My mither, oh ! I see her still, she smiled our sports to see, Wi' little Jeanic on her lap, and Jamie at her knee. Oh ! rowan tree. 62 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Oh ! there arose my father's pray'r in holy evening's calm, How sweet was then my mother's voice,in the martyr's psalm ! Now a' are gane I we meet nae mair aneath the rowan tree, But hallowed thoughts around thee turn o' hame and infancy. Oh ! rowan tree. James Thomson, author of the " Seasons," wrote the songs, " For ever Fortune," and "Tell me, thou Soul." The first appeared in'the Orpheus" Caledonius so far back as 1725, and is hero given. Speaking of Thomson, every Scotchman must feel proud when ho remembers that the naticmal song, " Eule Britannia," is from the pen of the author of the " Seasons," and aj^peared in the ''Masque of Alfred." It is remark- able that the other national ode, " God save the Queen," or the " King's and Queen's Anthem " is the production of Carey, and appeared as a pure Jacobite song just before the insurrection of 1715. The first words were : — "God save great James, onr King, Send him victorious, Soon to reign over us," After the rebellion, being sung publicly in the Lon- don theatre, and changing .Fames to George, it became immensely popular, and has ever since been the Koyal Anthem. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 63 FOE EVER FORTUNE. For ever l^'ortuno wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And when we meet a mutual lieart, Come in between and bid us part. Bid us sigh on from day to day, And wish, and wish — the soul away; Till youth and genial years arc flown. And all the life of life is gone. But busy, busy, still art thou To bind the loveless, joyless vow, The heart from pleasure to delude, And join the gentle to the rude. For once, oh Fortune hear my prayer, And I absolve thy future care j All other blessings I resign. Make but the dear Amanda mine. From about T750 to the year 1850 was the period when all the principal songs of Scotland, except those already spoken of, and thouc of very recent date, were composed. This era produced Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, Thomas Campbell, Robert Tannahill, Hector McNeil, Richard (lall, Sir Alexander Boswell, James Ilogg, Allan Cunningham, William Mickle, Robert and VViliianrFergusson, William Motherwell, Susanna Blamire, William Tliom, Mis. Grant, Thomas Lyle, Alexander Rtwlger, David Veilder, James Ballantyne, William Laidlaw, Adam Skirving, Robert (iilfillan, ^ fiKTOKT OF SeX)TTISH SOWO* ' Alexander Laing, Captain Charles Gray, James Mc- Donald, Eichard Glass, John Mitchell, Kobert Nicoll, Thomas Latto, and Alexander McClaggan, besides a large number of others who wrote either only single pieces or two or three. We will take these authors and others of less note, and extract the cremea-creme of their songs for this collection. James Beattie, LL.D., was a distinguished poet, and published a volume of poetry. Among its contents are" The Minstrel;' ''Rope;' " The Hermit;' and " The Judgment of Paris;' published in 1165. As far as is known he wrote only one song, ^Bloic, blow, thou ver^ not gale;' which is here inserted. BLOW, BLOW, THOU VERNAL GALE. A song in imitation of Shakespeare's " Blow, blow, thou winter winds." Blow, blow, thou vernal gale I Thy balm will not avail To case my aching breast ; Though thou the billows smooth, Thy murmurs cannot soothe My weary soul to rest. Flow, flow, thou tuneful stream ; Infuse the easy dream Into the peaceful soul ; But thou can'st not compose The tumult of my woes, Though soft thy waters roll; &ISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 65 Blushj blush, ye fairest flowers ! Beauties surpassing yours My Eosalind adorn ; Nor is the Winter's blast That lays your glories waste, So killing as her scorn. Breathe, breathe, ye tender lays, That linger down the maze Of yonder winding gi'ove ; let your soft control Bend her relenting soul To pity and to love. Fade, fade, ye flowi-ets fair ! Gales, fan no more the air ! Ye streams forget to glide ! Be liush'd each vernal strain ; Since nought can soothe my pain, Nor mitigate her pride. Whilst the Scottish Muse was thus cultivated by the higher classes of society as well as by the lower ranks, a young Scotch poet, — well styled the precur- sor of Barns — Robert Fergusson by name, was eking out a miserable pittance as a lawyer's copying clerk which ultimately caused him to perish (with all his senses about him at the last) in a cell of an old mad- house at the early age of 2i. lie wrote Hallow Fair, The Birks of Inverniay and The Lea llig. Many years after his death Burns erected a Monument over his grave in the Cannongato Churchyanl, Edinburgh. 66 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. THE LEA EIG. Will 3"c gang o'er the Lea Rig, My ain kind dearie ! And cuddle there fii' kindly Wi' me, my kind dearie O ! At thorny bush or birken tree We'll daff and never weary ! They'll scug ill e'en frae you and me My ain kind dearie 0. Nae hei'ds wi' keiit or colly there Shall ever come tae fear ye O ! But laverocks whistling in the air Shall woo, like mc, their dearie ! While ithers herd their lambs and ewes, And toil for warld's gear, my jo, Upon the lea my pleasure grows Wi' thee, my kind dearie ! IN THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.. This Bpirited song appears in the "Lark," 1705, and in Herd's Collection, 17G9. It Avas written b}'- Gen. Sir Harry Erskine. The tune to the song is calletl "The Highland or 42d Kegiment's March," and was composed b^ Gen. John Keid of the 88th Regiment. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 6*? In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Home, From the heath cover'd mountains of Scotia we come, Where the Romans endcavom*'d our country to gain, But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain. Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws, That like our ancestors of old, we stand hy free- dom's cause ; We'll bravely fight, like heroes bright, for honour and applause, And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws, Ko effeminate customs our sinews unbrace, No luxurious tables enervate our race; Our loud sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain, And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain, Such our love, &c. As a storm in the ocean when Boreas blows, So are we enraged when we rush on our foes; We sons of the nnumtuins, tremendous as rocks, Dash the force of (»ur foes with oui* thundering strokes. Such our love, &c. VVe're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale, As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail ; As the full moon in autumn our shitdds do appear. E'en Minerva would dread to encounter our s|)ear. Such our love, &c. 68 HISTORY OP &0OTTISH SONd. Quebec aud Ciij)c Breton, tho pride of old Franco, In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance ; But when our claymores they saw us produce, Their courage did fail and they sued for a truce. Such our love, &c. In our realm may the fury of faction long cease, May our councils be wise, and our commerce increase, And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find That our friends still prove ti'ue. and oiu' beauties prove kind. Then we'll defend our liberty, vyur country, and our laws. And teach our late posterity to fight in freedom's cause ; That they like our bold ancestors, for honour and applause, May defy the French, with all their arts, to alter our laws. William Mickle wrote " There's nae luck about the House," which song Burns says " Is positively the finest love ballad in the Scottish or perhaps in any other language." This verdict of the great bard will bo endorsed by every lover of poetry and very feeling heart. The two lines * And will I see his face again, * And will I hear him speak 1' are unequalled by any thing 1 ever heaid or read." The song appeared about A. D., 17T1. It is a long song, but we give the best. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 69 TIIEEE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. '* And are 3^0 sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he's wcel ? Is this a time to think o' work? Ye jaids tiing bye your wheel. Is this a time to think o' work AVhen Colin's at the door? Rax mo my cloak, I'll to the quay And see him come ashore, For there's nae luck about the house There's nae luck at a' ! There's little pleasure in the house When oui' pjudcman's awa'. Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air, His very foot has music in't, As ho comes up the stair. Since Colin's weel, I'm well content, I hae nae mair to crave, Could I but live to mak' him blest I'm blest aboun the lave. And will I see his face again, And will I hear him speak, I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought. In troth, I'm like to greet. For there's nae luck, &c. John Lowe, tutor in the liousc of Mr. Macghie of Aiinls, wrote Mary's Di-eam, one of the most beau- tiful pieces in tho^EnglishJanguage, While residing TO HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. at Airds, 1*772, Mr. Alex. Miller, the lover of Miss Mary Macghie, was drowned at sea — and this was the occasion of the production of the song. MARY'S DREAM. The moon had climb'd the higliest hill Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed Her silver light on tower and tree, When Mary laid her down to sleep, Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea. Then soft and low a voice was heard, Sa^-ing — " Mary, weep no more for me. " She from her pillow gently raised Her head to ask who there might be, And saw young Sandy shivering stand, With visage pale and hollow e'e : " Oh Mary, dear, cold is my clay. It lies beneath a stormy sea ; Far, far from thee, I sleep in death, So Mary, weep no more for me. Three stormy nights and stormy days W^e tossed upon the raging main ; And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain. Even then when horror chilled my blood, My heart was filled Avith love for thee, The storm is past, and I at rest, So Mary, weep no more for mo. niSTORY OF SCOTTISH SONO. "71 maiden fair thyself prepare, We soon shall meet upon that shore Where lovo is free from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more." Loud crowed the cock, the shadow fled, Ko more of Sandy could she see j But soft the passive spirit said, " Sweet Mary, weep no more for me." W.Paul, of Glasgow, wrote the two beautiful sougs "Bonnie Jeannio Gray" and "The Bridal Day." The 2nd stanza of Jeannie Gray was written by William Thom. BONNIE JEANNIE UllAY. Oh whar w\'is ye sae late yentrcen. My bonnie Jeannie Gray ? Your mither miss'd you late at e'en, And eke at break o' day. Your mither look'd sac sour and sad, Your father dull and wae, Oh ! whar was ye sac late yestreen, My bonnie Jeannie Gray. I've mark'd tliat lanely look o' thine. My bonnie Jeannie Gray ; I've kent your kindl}^ bosom pine, This monie, monie day. Ha'e hinnied words o' promise lur'd Y'^our guileless heart astray ? O ! dinna hide your grief frae mo, My bonnie Jeannie Gray. 12 HISTORY OP SCOTISH SONa. Dear sister, sit yo down by mo, And let nao body ken ; For I ha'e promis'd late yestreen, To wed young Jaraio (rlon ; The molting tear stood in his e'o, What heart could sac him nay ? As aft ho vow'd, through life, I'm thino, My bonnio JcannioGray. THE BEIDAL DAY. Oh I maun braid my yellow hair, An' I maun busk mo braw, An' I maun to the gi'eenwood gang, Whatever may befa' — - An' I maun say the word at e'en, That brings mo weal or wae, For Jamie press'd me sair yestreon To set the bridal day. Oh little does my father think That he maun ware his gear ; And little does my mammie think The trysting hour is near ; But yonder blinks the e'ening stcr O'er Roslyn castle gray, An' I maun to the greenwood gang, To set the bridal day. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONO. 73 KoBERT Tannahill was a fruitful writer,and has left us some of the most beautiful of Scottish songs. The most popular are those inserted in this collection. Every line of " Loudon's bonny woods and braes" teems with patriotism and martial fire — though the writer was timid as a fawn, and so sensitive that it caused him afterwards to commit suicide. Hear what he says : " Wha can thole when Britain's faes Would gie to Britons law, lassie ? Wha wad shun the field o' danger, Wha to fame would be a stranger, Now when freedom bids avenge her, Wha wad shun her ca', lassie ? Perhaps tlie most noted of his songs is " Jessie, the Flower o' Dunblane. The Jessie here spoken of is a purely imaginative personage as the poet never was in Dunblane. The words are : JESSIE, THE FLOWER 0' DUNBLANE. The sun has gone down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, * While lonely I stray, in the calm simmer glomin' To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its soft fauldin' blossom; And sweet as the birk, in its mantle o' green ; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. 74 HISTORY OP «C07'' H SONQ. She's modest as onie, and blythe as she's bonnio, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain, And far bo the villain divested o' feeling, Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet floiver o' Dunblane. Sing on thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen, Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie, The sports o' the city seemed foolish and vain j I ne'er saw a nymph I could ca' my dear lassie Till charmed wi' sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dun- blane. Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in j^ain, And reckon as nae thing the height o' its splendour If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dunblane. GLOOMY WINTER'S NOW AWA. Written by Tannahill about the year 1808 and arranged to music by R. A. Smith. Gloomy winter 's now awa', Saft the westlin breezes blaw; 'Mang the birks o' Stanley-shaw The mavis sings fu' cheerie. Oh. Sweet the craw-flowers early bell Decks Gleniffcr's dewy dell. Blooming like thy bonnie sel'. My young, my artless dearie, Oh. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 75 Come my lassie, let us stray O'er Glcnkilloch's sunny brae, Blythly spend the gowdon day 'Midst joys that never wcarie. Oh. Towering o'er the Xcwton woods, Laverocks fan the snaw white clouds, Siller saughs wi' downic buds, Adorn the banks sac brierie Oh. Round the sylvan fairy nooks Feath'ry braikens fringe the rocks, 'Neath the brae the burnie j<>iiks, And ilka thing is cheerie. Oh. Trees may bud and birds may sing, Flowers may bloom an >e strao. Allan Cunningham wrote " Ilcune, hame, hamc,'" " Bonny Lady Ann,'' " My ain counfn'e/' " Our Ladye's Blessed Well;' " The Spring of the year," and other songs. lie wrote a song, a great favoi-ite with sailors, which though not in tlie Scotch language is inserted hero as illustrating his writings. A WET SIIEKT. A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills tho white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast; 78 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SON({. And bonds tho gallant mast, my boys, While like the eagle free, Away our good ship flies and leaves Old England on the lee. Oh for a soft and gentle wind ! I heard a fair one cry ; But give to me the snorting breeze And white waves heaving high ; And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and free — The world of w\aters is our home, And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud ; But hark the music, mariners ! The wind is piping loud ; Tho wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free — AVhilo the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. James IIolait a wreath of flowers lor my lovely High- landman HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 87 O what will you claim for your constancy to him ? O what wMll you claim for your constancy to him? I'll claim a priest to marry us, a clerk to say Amen ; And I'll never part again from my bonnie Highland- man. LOW DOWN I' THE BRUME. The words of tliis sweet song were written by Jas. CARNAGiE,Esq., of Balnamoon near Brechin. They can bo traced back to A.D. 1765, and were published then in "The Lark." My daddie is a cankert carle, He'll no twine wi' his gear ; My minnie she's a scauldin' wife, Hands a' the house asteer. But let them say or let them do, It's a' ane to me, For he's low doun, he's in the brume, That's waiting en me; Waiting on me, my love. He's waiting on me. For he's low doun, he's in the brume, lluiL's waitin' on me. My auntie Kate sits at her wheel, And sair she lightlies me ; But weel ken I it's a' envy. For ne'er a Joe has she. But let them say, &c. 88 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. My cousin Kate was sair beguiled Wi' Johnnie o' the Glen, And aye sin syne she cries, " Beware O' fause, deluding men." But let them say, &c. Gleed Sandy he cam' west yestreen. And speir'd when I saw Pate, And aye sin syne the neebors round, They jeer me air and late. But let them sa}^ &c. Andrew Park wrote " Hurra for the Highlands,'^ a deeply pathetic and patriotic effusion. HURRA FOR THE HIGHLANDS. Hurra ! for the Highlands ! the stern Scottish High- lands, The home of the clansman, the brave and the free — Where the clouds love to rest, on the mountain's rough b'-<>ast, Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea. 'Tis there when the cataract sings to the breeze. As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light. And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas, In his fleet, tiny bark through the perilous n;' fast to my e'e ? If I wasna ettled to be ony better, Then what gars me wish ony better to be ? I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither, Nae mither nor friend the poor lammie can see ; I fear I ha'e left my bit heart a'thegither, Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my e'e. History of Scottish song. Il3 Wi' the rest o' my claes I ha'e rowed up the ribbon, The bonnic bhie ribbon that Jamie ga'e me ; Yestreen when he ga'e me't, and saw I was sabbin' I'll never forget the wae blink o' his e'e. Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucj', It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see ; He eouldna saymair, but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy — Yet that will I mind to the day that I die. The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it's droukit; The hare likes the brake and the br.iird on the lee ; But Lucy likes Jamie — she turned and she lookit; She thought the dear place she wad never mair see.— Ah ! weel may young Jamie, gang dowie and ch3er-9b^ ! And woel may he greet on the bank o' the burn ! His bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never retu n. Thomas Campbell, the great poet, wrote some fine and spirited songs. A few are inserted here. His great work was " The Pleasures of Ilove.'" He and Dibdin much roused the patriotic ardor of Great Britain by their splendid sea songs. The first given is " The MaicV s Remonstrance.'" THE MAID'S HEMOXSTRAXCE. Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a love-torn heart pursuing ; Read you not the wrongs you're doing, In my l oek's pale hue ! All my life with sorrow strewing, Wed — or cease to ^voo. 114 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Rivals banisli'd, bosoms plighted, Still our days are disunited, "Now the lamp of hope is lighted, Now half quench'd aj^pears, Damp'd and wavering and benighted 'Midst my sighs and tears. Charms you call your dearest blessing, Lips that thrill at your caressing. Eyes a mutual soul confessing. Soon you'll make them grow " Dim and worthless your possessing Not with age but woe. THE EVENING STAR Starl that bringest home the bee, And sett'st the weary labourer free. If any star shed peace 'tis thou That send'st it from above. Appearing wiien heaven's breath and brow Are s\veet as hers we love. Come to the luxuriant skies, Whilst the landscape's odours rise ; "Whilst far-off lowing herds are hoard, And songs, when toil is done. From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd Curls yellow in the sun. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 115 tStiir of love's soft interviews ! Parted lovers on thee muse ; Their remembrancer in heaven Of thrilling vows thou art, Too delicious to be riven By absence from the heart. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. Our bugles sung truce, for the night cloud had low- er'd. And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground, overj^ower'd, The weary to sleep and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, And twice, e'er the cock crew, I dreamt it again. Methought, from the battle field's dreadful array, Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track, Till nature and sunshine disclos'd the sweet way To the house of my father who welcom'd me baclr; I flow to the pleasant fields travers'd so oft In life's morning march, wlien my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goat s bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strains that the corn-reapers sung. 116 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Then plcdg'd we the wine cuj), and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part, My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart — " Stay, stay, with us — rest ! thou art weary and worn " And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. GILDEROY. The last, the fatal hour is come, That bears my love from me, I hear the dead note of the drum, I mark the gallows iree. The bell is toU'd ; it shakes my heart ; The trumpet speaks thy name ; And must my Gilderoy depart To bear a death of shame ? No bosom trembles for thy doom, No mourner wipes a tear ; The gallows' foot is all thy tomb, The sledge is all thy bier. Oh Gilderoy ! bethought we then So soon, so sad to ])art, ^ Where fii'st in Roslin's lovely glen You triumph'd o'er my heart. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Ill Your locks they glittcr'd to the sheen, Your hunter-garb was trim, And graceful was the ribbon green, That bound your manly limb ! Ah ! little thought I to deplore Those limbs in fetters bound ; Or hear upon the scaflbld floor The midnight hammer sound. Ye cruel, cruel, that coml)in'd The guiltless to pursue, My Gilderoy was ever kind, He could not injure you ! A long adieu ! but whore shall fly Thy widow all forlorn, When every mean and cruel eye Regards my woe witli scorn? Yes! they will mock thy widow's tears, And hate thine orphan boy ; Alas! his infant beauty bears The form of Gilderoy. Then will I seek the ilreary mound That wraps thy mouldering clay, And weep and linger on the round, And sigh my heart away, 118 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. THE DIRGE OF WALLACE. They lighted a taper at dead of night, And chanted their holiest hymn ; But her brow and her bosom were damp with atfright, Her eye was all sleej^less and dim, And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, When a death-watch beat in her lonely room. When her curtain had shook of its own accord. And the raven had flapj^'d at her window board, To tell of her warrior's doom. Now sing ye the song and loudly pray For the soul of my knight so dear, And call me a widow this wretched day, Since the warning of God is here. For a night-mare rides on my strangled sleep, The lord of my bosom is doomed to die, His valorous heart the}'' have wounded deep And the blood-red teai's shall his country weep, For Wallace of Elderslie. Yet knew not his country that ominous hour, Ere the loud matin bell was rung, Thai a trumpet of death on an English tower, Had the dirge of her champion sung. When his dungeon light look'd him dim and red, On the high born blood of a martyr slain, No anthem was sung at his holy, deathbed, No weeping there was when his bosom bled. And his heart was rent in twain. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 119 Oh ! it was not thus when his oaken spear AYas true to the knight forlorn ; And hosts of a thousand were scattor'd like deer, At the sound of the huntsman's horn, When he strode o'er the wreck of oach well fought field With the yellow-haired chiefs of his native land ; For his lance was not shiver'd, nor helmet nor shield, And the sword that sccm'd tit for archangel to wield, Was light in his terrible hand. But bleeding and bound, though the Wallace wight, For his much loved country die, The bugle ne'er sung to a braver knight, Than Wallace of Elderslie. Bnt the day of his glory shall never depart, His head unintomb'd shall with glory be palm'd. From his blood-streaming altar his spirit shall start, Tho' the raven has fed on his mouldering heart, A nobler was never embalm'd. Lord Byron wrote two pieces, relating to his boy- hood in the Highlands of Scotland. Extracts arc given below : WHEN I ROYED A YOUNG HIGHLANDER. When I roved a young Highlander o'er tho dark heath. And climbed thy steep summit, OMorven, of snow. To gaze on the torrent that thundcr'd beneath, Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below, 120 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG, Untutor'd by science, a stranger to fear, And rude as the rocks where my infancy grew, No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear ; Need I say, my sweet Mary, 'twas centred in you ? Yet it could not be love, for I know not the name, What passion can dwell in the heart of a child ? But still I j)erceive an emotion the same As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-covcr'd wild : One image alone on my bosom impress'd, I loved my bleak regions, nor panted for now ; And few were my wants, for my wishes wore blcss'tl ; And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you. I arose with the dawn ; with my dog as my guide, From mountain to mountain I bounded along ; I breasted the billows of Dee's rushing tide And heard at a distance the Highlander's song : At eve, on my heath-cover'd couch of repose, No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view ; And warm to the skies my devotion arose. For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you. LACIIIN Y GAIE. Away, ye gay landycapos, ye gardens of roses ! In you let the minions of luxury rove : Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love ; HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 121 Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, Round their white summits though elements war ; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth flowing foun- tains, I sigh for tho valley of dark Loch na Garr. Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd ; My cap .was tho bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ; On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd. As daily I strode through tho pino-cover'd glade ; I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the ra^^s of the bright polar star; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. Years have roU'd on, Loch ua Garr, since I loft you, Years must elapse ere I tread you again ; Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic To one who has roved o'er tho mountains afar ; Oh for tho crags that are wild and majestic ! Tho steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr ! Susanna Blamire wrote " What Ails this Heart V " The weafu' Heart'' " Ye shall walk in Silk Attire," and the " Nabob.'' All these songs are very fine. 122 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. THE NxVBOB. When silent time, wi' lightly foot, Had trod on thirty years, I sought again my native land \Vi' mon}^ hopes and fears: Wha kens gin the dear friends I left May still continue mine ? Or gin I e'er again shall taste The joys I left langsyne ? -% As I drew near my ancient pile. My heart boat a' the way ; • Ilk place I pass'd secm'd yet to speak 0' some dear former day ; Those days that foUow'd me afar, Those happy days o' mine, Wliil k made me think the ])resent joys A' nacthing to langsyne. The ivy'd tower now met my eye, Where minstrels used to blaw ; Nae friend stepp'd forth wi' 02)en hand, Nae wecl kenn'd face I saw ; Till Donald totter'd to the door, « Wham I left in his prime, And grat to see the lad return Ho boro about langsyne. » HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 123 Iran to ilka dear friend's room, As if to find them there, I knew where ilkane used to sit, And hung o'er mony a chair j Till soft remembrance threw a veil Across these een o' mine, I clos'd the door^ and sobb'd aloud, To think on auld langsyne ! Some pensy chiels, a new S2^rung* race. Wad next their welcome pay, Wha shudder'd at my Gothic wa's, And wish'd my groves away : " Cut, cut," they cried, " those aged elms, Lay low yon mournfu' pine :" Na ! na ! our fathers' names grow there. Memorials o' langsyne. To wean me frae these vvaefu' thoughts, They took me to the town ; But sair on ilka weel-kenn'd face I miss'd the youthful bloom. At balls they pointed to a nymph Wham a' declar'd divine ; But sure her mother's blushing cheeks Were fairer far langsyne ! In vain I sought in music's sound To find that magic art, Which oft in Scotland's ancient'lays Has thrill'd through a' my heart : 124 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. The sang had mony an artfu' turn ; My ear confess'd 'twas fine ; But miss'd the simple melody I listcn'd to langsyne. Ye sons to comrades o' my youth, Forgi'e an auld man's spleen, AVha 'midst your gayest scenes still mourns The days he anco has seen : When time has past, and seasons fled. Your hearts Avill feel like mine ; And aye the sang will maist delight That minds ye o' langsyne. WnAT AILS THIS HEAET O' MINE. What ails this heart o' mine ? What ails this watery e'e ? What gars me a' turn cauld as death When I take leave o' thee ? When thou art far awa' Thou'lt dearer grow (.0 me ; But change o' place and change o' folk May gar thy fancy jeo. When I gae out at e'en, Or walk at morning air, Ilk rustling bush will seem to say 1 us'd to meet thee there. Then I'll sit down and cry, And live aneath the tree, And when a loaf fa's i* my lap I'll ca't a word frae thee. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 125 I'll hie me to the bower That thou \vi' roses tied, And where wi' mony a blushing bud I strove mysel' to hide. I'll doat on ilka spot Where I ha'e been wi' thee ; And ca' to mind some kindly word By ilka burn and tree ! "William Motherwell w^rote the ^^ May Morn," " The Bloom hath fled thy cheeky 3Iary," and "My head is liJce to rend," which almost surpasses Jeanie Morri- son in feeling and pathos ; but the best song and the one w^iich has immortalized his memory is ^'Jeanie Morrison^ This song as soon as it was published was hailed by all classes as the most true and tender effu- sion of the Scottish Muse, which any age had produced, and it still sustains its place in the estimation of every true lover of Scottish j)oetry and song. JEAKIE MORRISON. I've wander'd east, I've wander'd west, Through mony a weary way ; But never, never, can forget The luve o' life's young day ! The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en, May weel be black gin Yule ; But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule. 126 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. tlcar, dear Jcanie Morrison, The thoclits o' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path, And blind my e'en wi' tears : They blind my e'en wi' saut, saut tears, And sair and sick I pine, As memory idly summons up The blithe blinks o' langsyne. 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither wecl, 'Twas then we twa did part ; Sweet time — sad time I twa bairns at schule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart ! 'Twas then we sat on ao laigh bink, To leir ilk ither iear; And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, Eemember'd ever mair. 1 wonder, Jeanie, afton yet, When sitting on that bink, Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, What our wee heads could think ? When baith bent down ower ao braid ])tige Wi' ae bulk on our knee. Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. Oh mind ye how we hung our heads. How cheeks brent red wi' shame. Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said We cleek'd thegither hame ? HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 127 And mind yc o' the Saturday's, (The schule then skail't at noon), Wlien wo ran afrto speol the braes — The broomy braes o' June ? My head rins round and round about, My heart flows like a sea, As ain by ain the thoclits rush back 0' schule-time and o' thee. Oh, mornin' life ! Oh mornin' luve ! Oh, lichtsomc days and lang, When hinnied hopes around our hearts. Like simmer blossoms, sprang! mind ye, luve, how aft we left The deavin' dinsometoun, To wander by the green burnside, And hear its water croon ; The simmer leaves hungower our heads, The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin' o' the wud, The throssil wduisslit sweei, The throssil whusslit in the v ud, The burn sung to the trees, And wc, with Nature's heart in tunc, Concerted harmonies ; And on the kuowe abune the burn, For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi' very gladness grat ! 128 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Aye, aye, dear Jeaiiie Morrison, Tears trinkled down j'our cheek, Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak ! That w\as a time, a blessed time. When hearts were fresh and j'onng, When freely giish'd all feelir.gs forth, Unsyllabled — unsung! I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, (Jin I ha'e been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts As ye ha'e been to me ? Oh ! tell me gin their music fills Thine ear as it does mine ; Oh ! say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi' dreamings o' langsyne ? I've \vander'd east, I've wander.'d west, I've borne a weary lot ; But in my wanderings far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart, Still travels on its way ; And channels deeper as it rins The luve o' life's young day. O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sinder'd young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o' your tongue; HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. l29 But I could hug all wretchedness, And hajipy could I die, Did I l)ut ken your heart still dream d O' byganc days and me ! SiLLERY wrote the beautiful song, THE SCOTTISH BLUE BELLS. Let the pround Indian boast of his jessamine bowers, His pastures of perfume, and rose-covered dells ; While humbly I sing of those wild little flowers, The blue bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue bolls. Wave, wave your dark plumes, ye proud sons of the mountain, For brave is the chieftain your j^rowess who quells, And dreadful your wrath as the foam-flashing fountain, That calms its wild waves 'mid the Scottish blue bells. Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, And shout in the chorus for ever and ever, The blue bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue bells. Sublime are your hills when the young day is beaming. And green are your groves with their cool crystal wells, . • And bright are your broadswords, like morning dews gleaming On blue bells of Scotland, on Scottish blue bolls. 130 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Awake ! ye light fairies that trip o'er the heather, Ye mermaids, arise from your coralline cells, Come forth with your chorus all chanting together, The blue bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue bells. Then strike the loud harp to the land of the river, The mountain, the valley, with all their wild spells, And shout in the chorus for ever and ever, The blue bells of Scotland, the Scottish blue bells. A. McEwAN wrote the song, THE BONNIE WEE PtOSEBUD. A bonnie wee rosebud grows down by yon burn*'?, A bonnie wee rosebud as e*er you did see ; Wi' saft silken leaves, underneath a green thornie — spare the wee rosebud ! O spare it for me ! The redbreast sings wanton around this sweet possie ; Fond, fond to make love doth the wee birdie flee. Sure nane'd be sae cruel as steal frae my breastie. This bonnie wee rosebud — O spare it for me ! How fain would I change for the wee birdie's station j How blythe wad I peep 'neath the green thorny tree, Enraptur'd to muse, and tr. nsported to gaze on This bonnie wee rosebnd — O spare it for me ! O hasten the moment, blest moment of pleasure, When lock'd to my breast the wee rosebud will be United for ever, my soul's dearest treasure — Bo spare the wee rosebud, si)are, s])are it for mo I HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 131 Key. II. Eid:^el wrote the well known song, SCOTLAND YET. Gae bring my guid auld harp anco mair, Gae bring it free and fast ; For I maun sing anither sang Ere a' my glee be past. And trow ye as I sing, my lads, The burden o't shall be, Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes, And Scotland's hills for nic : I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet, Wi' a' the honors three. The heath waves wild upon her hills, And, foaming frae the fells. Her fountains sing o' freedom still As they dance down the dells. And wcel I lo'e the land my lads, That's girded by the sea ; Then Scotland's dales, and Scotland's vales. And Scotland's hills for me ; I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet, Wi' a' the honors three. The thistle wags upon the fields Where Wallace bore his blade, That gave her foeman's dearest hi aid To dieher auld grey plaid. And looking to the lift, my lads. 132 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH BONG. He sang this doughty glee, Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, And Scotland's hills for me ; I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet, Wi' a' the honours three. They tell o' lands Avi' brichtor skies. Where freedom's voice ne'er rang ; Gi'e me the hills where Ossian dwelt, And Coila's minstrel sang ; Fpr I've nae skill o' lands, my lads, That kenna" to be free ; Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might, And Scotland's hills for me ; "We'll drink a cup to Scotland yet, Wi' a' the honors three. We now come to Burns. Eobert Burns, the great- est of Scotland's song writers, is thus spoken of by Gilfillan who is so well known by his book, '' The Bards of the Bible.'' He says : " Song writing, lat- terly Burns' only true solace, has become his most generally admitted claim to fame. What unquench- able life is possessed by these simple melodies. Lis- ten to yonder Lowland lassie singing in the harvest field— you can tell what she is singing — it is one of the songs of Burns, j^erhaps it is his *' Lea Rig.'' Hear yonder ploughman crooning to himself as he draws his straight, clear furrow, the song is his "Caledonia," and as he sings you see the sentiments in his kind- ling eye — " Burns was once a ploughman like my- HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 133 self." From the city loomsliop, at the hour of dawn, you hear a loud cheerful chant, you hearken and find it to bo " My Heart's in the Ilighlands." From the giddy summit of arisingmillstalk there descends a voice, — it is a mason lad singing Burns' " Farewell to St. James' Lodge,'' " Adieu, a heartfelt, fond adieu, Dear Brothers of the mystic tie." You, a Scotchman, are pacing in a melancholj* vein — thinking perhaps of home — the streets of a London suburb, in an autumn eve, when, hark, a strain of dulcet melody from a female voice, min- gling with the thrilling hotcs of a harp or piano — it is an English lady setting ^^ Ilighlmd Mary" to the exquisite modulations of her southland tongue. How often, under the frowning battlements of Sebastopol, have little clubs of true-hearted and brave Scotch- men sung together and felt the trumj^et-like inspira- tion of " Scots wha hae ici' Wallace bled." A Perthshire gentleman is walking through the twilight streets of Paris, what strange, sweet j'ct old familiar sound is that which crosses suddenly liis ear and brings tears into his eyes, — it is the voice of two Scottish orphan children singing the ^' Birks of Aherfeldy." And what festive company of the Scotch met in the beginning of each year — whether in Caledonia her- self, or in the backwoods of Canada, or under the Southern Cross of Australia, what company can or does separate without '' Aidd Lang Syne" — nay did not the noble Eobert Motlatt teach the tune of that matchless melody to the Ilottentots themselves and 134 HISTORY or SCOTTISH SONO. sing it with them, for long hours together, under the soft bright moon of an African^ night." It must be here, however, mentioned that though this world- wide and renowned song is generally ascribed to Burns, he was not the author of it. As we said before tliis tune and several others w^ero taken from the Cathedral services of both England and Scotland at the Reformation, and became secular. Burns him- self says in one of his letters, " Light be the turf on the heaven-insj)ired poet who composed this glorious fragment." It is very curious to reflect that this air or melody belonged to the Eoman Catholic Church, and that the most popular song ever written in Britain is anonymous, and is it not also remark- able that so much of the great fame of Burns rests upon this song in which his share amounts only to a few emendations ? Burns says in another letter to Thomson : '"'It has never been in print nor even in manuscript until I took it down i'vom an old man's singing." The artistic merit of the poetry and songs of Burns, apart from tlieir great and universal popular- ity, is very evident. The best of his songs are truly most beautiful poems, and nothing can equal the fol- lowing : " JIary in Heaven,'' " For «' that,'' " Afton Water," or " Highland Mary." Some writers of Scotch songs have indeed produced certain indivi- dual songs quite equal, if not superior, to Burns, but taking his songs as a whole they are far liner because the temperament of the great poet Avas more lyrical and his blood hotter than theirs ; for instance, Tanna- hill's " Gloomy ivinters noo aica'," or Mrs. Grant's HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 135 " Boys Wife;' or Scott's " Joch o' JIazeldean " and his '' 3Iarch, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale'' ov Giltillan's " Oh, why left I my hame,'' or Hogg's " Whe7i the kye come hame;' or Thorn's " MUherless Bairn;' or Sillery's ''Scottish Blue Bells;' or LaidLaw's ''Lucy's Flittin';' or Susanna Blamire's " What ails this heart o' mine;' or Motherwell's " Jeanie Morrison;' or McXeil's " Come under my Plaidie" and " Smc ye my icee thing;' or "The Land o' the Leai;' " Auld Rohin Gray;' " Annie Laurie;' and some others are all individual songs which equal Burns, but onXy "as individual instances ; and although these songs have a perpe- tual and never-decreasing fame and are favorites wherever we go, yet, the songs of Eobert Burns of the same character and class are very many indeed, and to try to praise even one would be to praise them all. Whilst Scott and Eamsay and Tannahill and all the other beautiful song writers shall never fade from the breast of all true Scotchmen, wherever they now are, ivherever they may hereafter be, of Burns it can truly be said in the words of George Dobie : — Forget him! Did I say forget! 'Tis Scotia's Bard I mean. Forgot him! No; we never can, while woods and meads arc grcoii ; Forget him ! while the earth revolves, and on its axis turns. His name will never be forgot — the honored name of Burns, 136 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Forget him ! Yes ; we may forget, when stars cease giving light ; When all the sceneiiour Poet loved are rapt in lasting night ; When "bonny Doon" runs backwards, and ''Ayr's twa brigs " shall float. And daisies deck the fields no more, — then Burns may be forgot. Forget him ! No ; it cannot be. Forget so loved a name ! Old time, the longer that it rolls, but addeth to his fame ; Forget him ! No ; the lightning's flash, now under man's control, It swifter wing* the fame of Burns athwart from pole to pole. Forget him ! when the sun forgets to send forth light and heat ; Forget him ! when no human heart is left on earth to beat ; Forget him ! when no summer comes, or verdure springs to cheer, And all the birds are mute and still which Burns so loved to hear. Forget him ! when the earth forgets to grow the cheering vine ; Forget! when reft of woman's love, that joy of joys divine ; Forget him ! when this ponderous globe, like some vast ball, shall rot ; Till then, the name and fame of Burns shall never be forgot. History of Scottish sono. 137 Burns tlius speaks of Mary Campbell his " Highland Lassie" This extract is taken from Chamber's Book of Scottish songs. " My Highland Lassie, was a warmhearted, charming young creature, as ever blessed a man with generous love. After a pretty long trial of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we mot by appointment, on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot on the banks of Ayr, where wo spent the day in taking a farewell before she should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters among her friends for our projected change of life. At the close of the autumn following she crossed the sea to meet me at Greenock, where she had scarce landed when she was seized with a malignant fever, which hurried my dear girl to her grave in a few days, before I could even hear of her illness," Cromck adds a few particulars of the final interview of the youthful lover. " This adieu was performed with all those simple and striking ceremonials, which rustic sentiment has devised to prolong tender emotions and to inspire awe. The lovers stood on each side of a small purling brook, they laved their hands in the limpid stream, and holding a Bible between them, they pronounced their vows to be faithful to each other. They parted, never to meet again." Cromek's account of his part- ing interview was considered somewhat apocryphal, till, a good many j-ears ago, a pocket Bible, in two volumes, presented by Burns to Mary Campbell, was discovered in the jDOssession of her sister at Ardrossan. This Bible afterwards found its way to Canada, 138 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. whence the family had removed; and having excited llic interest of some Scotsmen at Montreal, they pur- chased it, (for its possessors were unfortunately in reduced circumstances,) and had it convej'ed back to Scotland, with the view of being permanently placed in the monument at Ayr. On its arrival at Glasgow, Mr. "VYeir, Stationer, Queen Street, (through the instrumentality of whose son, we believe, the precious relic was mainly procured,) kindly announced, that he would willingly show it for a few days at his shop to any person who might choose to see it. The re- sult was, that thousands flocked to obtain a view of this interesting memorial, and the ladies, in part- icular, displayed an unwonted eagerness regarding it, some of them even crying, on beholding an object which appealed so largel}^ to female sympathies. On the anniversary of the Poet in 18 tl, the Bible, inclos- ed in an oaken glass case, was permanently deposit- ed among other relics in the monument at Ayr. On the boards of one of tho volumes is inscribed, in Burns's hand-writing, — " ' And ye shall not swear by my name falsely, I am the Lord,' Levit. chap. xix. v. 12;" and on the other, " ' Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oath,' St. Matt. chap. v. v. 33 ;" and on the blank leaves of both volumes, " Eobert Burns, Mossgiel." A monu- ment, the expense of which was defrayed by public subscription, is now erected over the grave of High- land Mary in Greenock churchyard. The foundation- stone of it was laid on the anniversary of the birth of the Poet, in 1842. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 139 The following arc among tlie best of tlie poem- sonii-s and soni^s of Robert Burns. HIGHLAND MAEY. Ye banks and braes and streams around The Castle o' Montgomery, Green be your Avoods and fair your flow'rs, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last farewell Of ni3' sweet Highland Marj'. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade, I elasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace. Our parting was fa' tender ; And f»ledging aft to meet again. We tore ourselves asunder : But, oh ! fell deatli's untimely frost, That nipt my flower so early ! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary ! 140 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. pale, ivdlG now those rosy lips I aft ha'e kiss'd sac fondly ! And clos'd for a^^e the sparkling glance That dwelt on mo sac kindly ; And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary. FOE A' THAT. Is there for honest poverty, "VVha hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward slave wo pass him by, And dare be poor for a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that. The rank is but the guinea stamp. The man's the gowd for a' that. "What tho' on hamely fare wo dine, Wear hodden gray, and a' that, Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that. For a' that, an' a that, Their tinsel show, an' a' that. An honest man, tho' ne'er so poor, Is chief o'men for a' that. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. I4l Ye see yon birkio, ca'd a lord, Who struts and stares, an' a that, Tho' hundreds worship at liis word, He's but a cuift' for a' that. For a' that, an' a' that His ribband, star, an' a' that, A man of independent mind, Can look and laugh at a' that. The kini:: can mak' a belted kiULiht, A marquis, duke, and a' that. An honest man's aboon his might, Gude faith he manna fa' that ! For a' that, and a' that His dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth. Are grander far than a' that. - , Then let us pra^', that come it may, An' come it shall, for a' that, When sense an' worth, o'er a' the earth, Shall bear the gree, an' a' that, For a' that, an' a' that, It's comin' yet, for a' that, When man, an' man, o'er a' the earth. Shall brithers be, an' a' that. 1-12 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG, THOU LINGTJNG STAK Thou ling'ring star, with Icss'ning ra^-, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou ushcr'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade ! Where is thy phice of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Ilcar'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr wo me(, To live one day of parting love. Eternity cannot efface Those records dear of transports past, The image of our last embrace ; — Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last. Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbl'd shore, O'erhung with wild woods thick'ningjrrcen. The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers s])rang wanton to bo prcst, The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, Till too, too soon the glowing west, Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SOXO. 143 Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ; Time but th' impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? AULT) LANGS YNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min' ? Should auld acquaintance bo forgot. And days o' auld langsyno ? For auld langsyne, my dear. For auld langsyne, We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld langsyne. We twa ha'e run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wander 'd mony a wearic fit Sin' auld langsyne. For auld langsyne, ast, Jean, And joy's com in' fust, Jean, The joy that's aye to last, Jean, In the land o' the leal. Our friends are a' gano, Jean, We've lang been hift alane, Jean, — We'll a' meet again, Jean, In the land o' the leal. Oh! dry your glistening e'e, Jean, M^'soul langs to be free, Jean, And angels beckon mo Jean, To the land o' the leal. 172 IIISTOIIY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Oh ! baud 3*0 leal and true, Jean, Your day its weerin' through, Joan, And I'll welcome ^-ou, Jean, To the land o' the leal. Now farc-yo-weel, my ain Jean, This warld's cnres arc vain, Jean, We'll meet, and aye be fain, Jeao, In the lanu o' the leal. EOB EOY MACGREGOR Introduced into Terry's opera of Rob Roy from Sir Walter Scott's celebrated novel, but the author is unknown. Pardon now the bold outlaw, Eob Roy Macgregor oh ! Grant him mercy, gentles a', Rob Roy Macgrcgor oh ! Let 3'our hands and hearts agree, Set the Highland laddie free, Nak6 us sing wi' muckle p-l > Rob Roy Macgregor, oh : Long the state has doom'd his fa', Rob Roy Macgrcgor, oh ! Still ho spurn'd the hatefu' law, Rob Roy Macgrcgor, oh ! Scots can for their country die, Ne'er frae Britain's foes they fleo, A' that's past, forget, forgie, Rob Roy Macgrcgor, oh. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 173 Scotland's fear and Scotland's pride, Rob Roy Macgrcgor, oh ! Your award must now abide, Rob Roy Macgregor, oh ! Long your favours ha'e been mine, Favours I will ne'er resign, Welcome them for auld lang sync, Rob Roy Macgrcgor, oh ! Alexander Lainc; wrote many fine songs. His volume »' Wayside Flowers" has gone through several editions. He was born in Brechin, and his work is highly appreciated by the natives of the Shires in the north-east corner of Scotland. The song " The Happy Mother,'' is the more appropriate, seeing that the author had no family, and is a taunt at his " better half'' Mrs. Laing. THE HAPPY MOTHER. An', oh, may I never live single again, I wish I may never live single again, I ha'e a gude man, an' a luimo o' my ain, An' oh, may I never live single again ; I've two bonnic bairns the fairest of a'. They cheer up my heart when their (laddie's awa' ; I've one at my foot and I've one on my knee, An' fondly they look and say " Mammie" to mo. 174 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONQ. At gloamin' thoir daddio comes in frao the plough, The blink in his o'e an' the smile on his brow — Says how are yo lassie, oh how arc yo a', An' how's the wee bodies sin' I gade awa'. He sings i' the e'cnin' fu' cheery and gay, lie tells o' the toil and the news o' the day ; The iwa bonnie lammics he taks on his knee An' blinks o'er the ingle fu' couth ie to me. Oh happy's the father that's happy at hame, An' blythe is the mither that's blj'the o' the name; The cares o' the warld, they fear na to dree — The warld is naething to Johnny an' me. Though crosses will mingle wi' motherly cares, Awa bonnie lassies — awa wi' your fears ; Gin ye get a laddie that's loving and fain, Yc'll wish ye may never live single again. MY AIN WIFE. I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see ; I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see. A bonnier yet I've never seen, A better canna be, — I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see. Oh couthie is my ingle-check, An' cheerie is my Jean, 1 never see her angry look. Nor hear her word on ane ; UISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONQ. 115 She's glide wi' ii tlie noebours roun', An' aye giulc wi' me, I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife T see. An' oh her looks sae kindly, They melt my heart outright, When o'er the baby at her breast, She hangs wi' fond delight, She looks intil its bonnie face, An' S3'ne looks to me, I wadna gi'e my ain wife For ony wife I see. WEDDED LOVE. Wo sought the green, the s'laly grove, When life was young and love was new; Wo plcdg'd the vows of purest love, And with our years atlection grew. Xow in the cot on yonder brow, Around with folding ivy wove. The Shannon's winding stream in view, IIow bless'd we'll live on wedded love. And though our fortune is but low, Though we have yet but little store, ril wield the spado and ply the hoc, And strive to make that little more, And when my daily toil is o'er With cheerful heart F 11 homeward move, And smiling peace and plenty, sure, Will bless the home of wedded love. l76 HISTORY OP SCOtTISlI SONO. OH WAT YE WHA. Oh wut 3'e wlia cam hero 3'e.streen ? A lad that maj^ fu' wcel bo seen. My luck for gowd I wadna gi'c, I'm just as blythe as blytlic can bo ; His friendly bow, an' frank gudo e'en He giod tlicm baiUi to sister Jean, Eut a' the time as I could see, His kindly looks ho gied to me. His friendly bow, &c. I wadna gie his looks yestreen, For a' the blythesomo sights I've seen ; I've waited lang, an' wearied been, But a' my fears wore tent yestreen, A father's house — a pantry fu' 0' meal to bake, and maut to brew ; They're nao to slicht nor cast awa', But his kindly looks are worth tliem a'. A father's house, &c. "William Ferousson wrote some fine songs, — viz., ^^Tmicandering icide," ^'Becchen Tree," " Wuoing Somj," and 'Til tend thy Bower:' I'LL TEND THY BOWER. I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, In spring time o' the 3'car, When saft'ning winds begin to woo The primrose to appear, HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 177 When daffodils begin to dance, And streams again flow free. And little birds are heard to pipe On the sprouting forest tree. I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, When summer daj's are lang, When Nature's heart is big wi' joy, Her voice laden wi' sang, When shepherds pipe on sunny braes. And flocks roam at their will. And auld an' young in cot an' ha', O' pleasure drink their fill. I'll tend thy bower, my bonnio May, When Autumn's yellow fields, That wave like seas o' gowd, before The glancin' sickle yields ; When ilka bough is bent in fruit, A glorious sight to see ! And showers o' leaves, red, rustling sweep Out owre the withering lea. 'O I'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, When through the naked trees Cauld, shivering on the bare hillside Sweeps wild the frosty breeze : — When tempests roar, and billows rise, Till nature quakes wi' fear, And on the land, and on the sea, Wild Winter rules the year. 178 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONCt. Jeffreys wrote " The Rose of Allandale : — THE ROSE OF ALLANDALE. The morn was fair, the skies were clear No breath came o'er the sea, When Mary left her Highland cot, And wandered forth with me. Though flowers decked the mountain side, And fragrance filled the vale, — By far the sweetest flower there, Was the Rose of Allandale. Where'er I wu.idered, east or west, Though Fate began to low'r, A solace still Avas she to me, In sorrow's lonely hour J When tempest lashed oar gallant bark, And rent her shivering sail. One maiden form withstood the storm,— 'Twas the Rose of Allandale. And when my fever'd lips were parched, On Afric's burning sand, She whisper'd hopes of happiness, And tales of distant land. My life had been a wilderness, Unblest by Fortune's gale, Had Fate not linked my lot with hers, The Rose of Allandale. ftlSTORY OP SCOTTISH SONd. 179 4 Dr. Spittal, wrote the following two jiiecos. — THE HEATHER BELL. Oh ! dock thy hair wi' the heather bell, The heather bell alone ; Leave roses to the Lowland maid, The Lowland maid alone. I've seen thee wi' the gay. gay rose, And wi' the heather bell, — I love you much with both, fair maid ; But wear tho heather bell. For tho heather bell, the heather bell, Which breathes the mountain air, Is far more fit than roses gay To dock thy flowing haii*. Away, away, ye roses gay. The heather bell for mo ; Fair maiden, let me hear thee say, The heather bell for mo. Then twine a wreath o' the heather hell, The heather bell alone ; ' Nor rose, nor lily, twine ye there, The heather bell alone ; For the lioathor bell, the heather boll, Which breathes the n juntain air, Is far more fit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. 180 . HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. IN THE SILENCE OF THE MIDNIGHT HOUR. In the silence of the midnight honr, When the moon is o'er the aea, And the sea-bird sleeps on the moonlit rock, — 'Tis then I -svould dream of thee. AVhenall is asleep but the heav'ns and the sea, — 'Tis then that the soul feels so free ; Kought seen but the stars, — nought hoard but the wave, 'Tis then I would dream of thee. In the silence, &c. 'Tis said that the souls of the beauteous dead, The souls of the good and the free. Love to flit o'er the earth at the midnight hour, — 'Tis then I would dream of thee. In the silence, «fcc. The author of the following song is unknown. It was one of the six songs picked out by Queen Victoria, to be sung l>y the great vocalist Mr. Wilson, when Her jMajesty was at Tnyinouth Castle, Scotland. THE LASS O' GOWRIE. Upon a simmer afternoon, A wee before the sun gadc down, My lassie, in a braw new gown. Cam' o'er the hills to Gowrie. The rose-bud, ting'd with morning show'r, Blooms fresh within the sunny bow'r But Katie was the fairest flower That ever bloom'd in Gowrie. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONCJ. 181 Nao thought had I to do her wrang, But round her waist my arms I flang, And said. My dearie, will ye gang, To SCO the Carsc o' Gowrie ? I'll tak' yo to my father's ha', In yon green fields beside the shaw ; I'll mak' you lady o' them a', The brawest wife in Oowrie. A silken gown o' siller gi oy, My mither coft last new-year's day, And buskit me frae tap to tae. To keep me out o' Gowi'ie. Daft Will, short syne, cam' courting Xell, And wan the lass, but what befel. Or whare she's gane, she kens hcrsel', She staid na lani; in Gowrie. 'o Sic thoughts, dear Katie, ill combine Wi' beauty rare, and wit like Ihine ; Except yoursel', my bonnie queen, I care for nought in CJowrio. Since first I saw you in the shcal, To you my heart's been true and leal ; The darkest night T fear nae de'il, "Warlock, or witch, in rJowrio. Saft kisses on her lips I laid, The blush upon her cheeks soon spread ►She whisper'd modestly, and said, O Tate, I'll stay in Gowrie ! 182 filSTORt OP SCOTTISH SONO. The auld folks soon ga'e their consent, Syne for Mess John they quickly sent, Wha ty'd them to their's heart's content, And now she's Lady Gowrie. GiLFiLLAN -wrote " The Mlmtrel Sleeps'^ beautiful lines on the death of Sir Walter Scott. " TJie Lament for the Bards,'' " Oh cake me to yon sunny Isle,*' ^" One Star of the Morning" and " Oh why left 1 my Hame.'' — This last song is the one perhaps by which the fame of the author is maintained. on ! WHY LEFT I MY HAME. Oh ! why left I my hame ? Why did I cross the deep ? Oh ! why left I the land Where my forefathers sleeji ? I sigh for Scotia's shore, As I gaze across the sea. But I canria get a blink O* my ain countrie. The pal hi tree waveth high, And fair the myrtle springs : And to the Indian maid The bulbul sweetly singp. But I dinna see the broom, Wi' its tassels on the lea ; Nor hear the lintie's sang 0* my ain countrie. tiiSTORT OP SCOTTISH SONO. 183 Oh ! here no Sabbath bell Awakes the Sabbath morn, Nor song of reapers heard Amang the yellow corn ; For the tyrant's voice is here, And the wail o' slaverie ; But the sun of freedom shines In my ain countrie. There's a hope for every woo. And a balm for every pain ; But the first joys of our heart Come never back again. There's a track upon the deep, And a path across the sea ; But the weary ne'er return To their ain countrie. David Yeddar wrote " The Sun had slipp'dj' " My Highland Vale^' and SWEET IS THE DAWN. Sweet is the dawn of vernal morn, And doubly sweet to me, Thut moment when the lamp of day Emerges from the sea — And lightens up the glowing skies, As erst he lighted paradise. 184 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. But sweeter far to view thy face Suffused with beauty's glow ; 'Tis like the morning's rosy rays, Shining on Alpine snow ; And oh, the radiance of those eyes, To me, is more than paradise. Oh, sweet the mavis' matin hymn, The merle's song at even ; And sweet the lark's wild melody, When soaring up to heaven ; But music sweeter than thy voice Was never heard in paradise. Oh, Mary 1 let one heavenly ray Beam from thy beauteous face, 'Twill light my clouded spirit up, And fill my soul with j)cace ; 'Twill dissipate my mental gloom. And round me paradise shall bloom. Alexander Roduer wrote many songs, the prin- cipal arc : " Til awa Ilame,^' " My Mither men't my auld Breeks/' "The Royal Union," " Behave yourself before Folk;' " Ifs no that thou'rt Bonnie^' " Sweet Bet of Aberdeen;' and " My Gudeman.'' Many of his songs are very long, and a number supposed to be spoken or sung h}' Highlanders not well versed in the Eng- lish tongue. He was a fruitful contributor to " Whis- tle Binkie." The song " Behave yourself," is highly spoken of and quoted by the renowned Christopher North in his immortal " Noctes Ambrosianae." HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 185 Thos. C. Latto wrote the pathetic song " The Blind Lassie," " The Widoiv's ae hit Lassie," The Yel- low'haired Laddie,' written on the massacre of Glen- coe, and the beautiful song, *' Tell me, Bear,'' which is given below : — TELL ME DEAR Tell me dear, in mercy speak, Has heaven heard my prayer, lassie ? Faint the rose is on thy check, But still the rose is there, lassie. Away, away, each dark foreboding. Heavy days with anguish clouding. Youthful love in sorrow shrouding. Heaven could ne'er allow, lassie. Day and night I've tended thee, Watching, love, thy changing e'e. Dearest gift that heaven could gie. Say thou'rt happy now, lassie. AVillie I lay thy cheek to mine. Kiss me, oh, my ain laddie ! Never mair may lips o' thino Press where it hath lain, laddie ! Hark ! I hear the angels calling, Heavenly strains are round me falling, But the stroke, thy soul appalling — 'Tis my only pain, laddie ! Yet the love I bear to thee Shall follow where I soon m.aun be ; I'll tell how gude thou wert to me,. We part to meet again, laddie. 186 HISTOEY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Lay thine arm beneath my head — Grieve na sae for me, laddie ! I'll thole the doom that lays me dead, But no a tear frae thee, laddie ! Aft where jon dark tree is spreading, When the sun's last beam is shedding. Where no mortal foot is treading By my grave thou'lt be, laddie ! Though my sleep be wi' the dead, • Frae on high my soul shall speed And hover nightly round thy head. Although thou wilt na see, laddie. MY HIGHLAND HOME. The words of this exquisite song were written by Morton, and the celebrated Henry B, Bishop com- posed the sweet and w^ell-known air to which it is sung. My Highland home, where tempests blow, And cold thy wintry looks. Thy mountains crown'd with driven snow And ice-bound are thy brooks ! But colder far the Briton's heart However far he roam. To whom these words no joy impart, My native Highland horao. Chorus. — Then gang wi' me, to Scotland, dear, We ne'er again will roam. But with thy smiles so bonny, cheer My native Highland home. niSTORY OP SCOTTISH SOXG. 187 When summer comes, the heather bell Shall tempt thy feet to rove, The cushet-dove within the dell Invite to peace and love. For blythesome is the breath of May, And sweet the bonny broom, And blj^the the dimpling rills that play Around my Highland home. Then gang wi' me, &o. Thomas Lyle composed " Kelvin Grove,'' though some think that John Sim wrote it, as it was found in his hand writing, but Dr. Lyle has fully established his authorship. It was printed in the " Harp of Renfrewshire," about 1820. It is one of the most popular songs in the west of Scotland as indeed everywhere. He also wrote " Welcome Summer,'' " Dunoon" and ^' I ance knew content." KELVIN GROVE. Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, oh. Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie oh ! Where the rose in all her pride Paints the hollow dingle side, Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, oh. Let us w^ander by the mill, bonnie lassie, oh. To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, oh, Whore the glens rebound the call, Of the roaring waterfall, Thro' the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie, oh. 188 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Oh Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, oh, When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, oli. There, the May-pink's crimson plume Throws a soft but sweet perfume Eound the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, oh. Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, oh, As the smile of fortune's thine, bonnie lassie, oh, Yet with fortune on my side I could stay thy father's pride, And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, oh. But the powers of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, oh, On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, oh. Ere yon golden orb of day, Wake the warblers in the spray, From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, oh. Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, oh, And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, oh. Then, Helen ! shouldst thou hear Of thy lover on his bier, To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, oh. i HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 189 James Ballantyne published a beautifully illus- trated work and called " The Gaberlunzie's Wallet," at Edinburgh. In this work are interspersed many poet- ical pieces of great feeling and replete with genuine Scottish humor and pathos. He wrote the following three songs. SAFT IS THE TWINK O' THINE E'E, LASSIE. Saft is the twink o' thine o*e, lassie, Saft is the twink o' thine e'e ; An' a bonny wee sun glimmers on its blue orb, As kindly it blinks upon mo.' The curls that twine roun' thy brow, lassie, Are gowden as gowden may be ; Like the wee curly cluds that play roun' the sun, When he's just gaun to drap in the sea. Saft is the twink, &c. Thou hast a bonny wco mou', lassie, As sweet as a body may pree j An' I will prce that woe hinny mou', E'en though thou shouldst frown upon me. Saft is the twink, &c. Thou hast a lily white hand, lassit, As fair as a body may see : And saft is the squeeze o' that wee gentj- hand. At eve when thou partcst wi' me. {laft is the twink, &c. 190 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. ! thou art a' thing to me, lassie, O ! thou art a' thing to me ; "What care I tho' the warl' should frown, Gin heaven but smile, an' thee. Saft is the twink, &c. CASTLES IN THE AIR The bonnie, bonnie bairn, wha sits poking in the ase, Glowcrin' in the fire wi' his wee round face, Laughin' at the faffin' lowe, what sees he there ? > Ah ! the young dreamer's biggin' castles in the air. His "wee chubby face, an' his tousie curly pow, Are laughin' an' noddin, at the dancin' lowe, He'll brown his rosy cheeks, an' singe his sunny hair, Glowerin' at the imps wi' their castles in the air. He sees muckle castles towerin' to the moon. He sees little sodgers pu'in' them a'doun ; Worlds whomblin' up and doun, bleezin' wi' a flare. See how he loups as they glimmer in the air. For a' sae sage he looks, what can the laddie ken ? He's thinking upon naething, like mony mighty men ; A wee thing mak's us think, a sma' thing mak's us stare. There's mair folk than him biggin' castles in the air. Sic a nicht in winter may weel mak' him cauld ; His chin upon his buify hand will soon mak' him auld, His brow is bent sae braid, pray that daddy care, "Wad let the wean alane wi* his castles in the air ! HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 191 He'll glower at the fire, an' he'll keek at the licht ; But mony sparklin' stars are swallowed up by nicht ! Aulder een than his are glaumered by a glare, Hearts are broken — heads are turned — wi' castles in the air. ILKA BLADE O' GRASS. Confide ye aye in Providence, For Providence is kind, And bear ye a' life's changes Wi' a calm and tranquil mind — Though pressed and hemmed on every side Ha'e faith, and ye'U win through, For ilka blade o' grass Keps its ain drap o' dew. Gin reft frae friends, or crossed in love, As whiles nae doubt ye'vo been, Grief lies deep hidden in your heart. Or tears flow frae your een ; Believe it for the best, and trow, There's gude in store for you, For ilka blade o' grass Keps its ain drap o' dew. In lang, lang days o' simmer. When the clear and cloudless sky Eefuses ae wee drap o' rain To nature, parched and dry, The genial night, with balmy breath. Gars verdure spring anew, And ilka blade o' grass Keps its ain drap o' dew. 192 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. So, lest 'mid Fortune'^ sunshine "We should feel ower proud and hio, And in our pride forget to wipe The tear frae poortith's c'c, Some wee drak clouds o' sorrow come, We ken na whence nor how, For ilka blade o' grass Keps its ain drap o' dew. Wm. Glen was the author of the sweetly tender Jacobite song "Fife's me for Prince C^ar/«e," composed about 1810. It is related of Her Gracious Majesty the Queen that when on one of her visits to the Scot- tish Highlands, andbeing at Taymouth Castle, the well- known Marquis of Breadalbane, having engaged Mr. Wilson, the celebrated vocalist, to sing before her, when a list of the songs he was accustomed to sing was presented to her from which to choose, she imme- diately chose the following : '^Lochaber no more,'' " The Flowers of the Forest,'' " The Lass o' Gowrie," " John Anderson My Jo," " Can ye by Athol," and " The Laird o' Cockpen." This beautiful song of Glen's was not in Mr. Wilson's list, but Her Majesty herself asked if he could sing " Wae's me for Prince Charlie," which he was able to do. This selection of songs which our good Queen made eminently displays her sound taste and fine feelings. Perhaps a better selection or one more varied both regarding music and words, taking the number of pieces into account, could not easily be found anywhere. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 193 WAE'S ME FOR PRINCE CHARLIE. A weo bird cam' to our ha' door, He warbled sweet and clearly, An' aye the o'er come o' his sang Was " Wae's me for Prince Charlie." Oh ! when I heard the bonnie bonnie bird, The tears cam' drappin' rarely ; I took my bannot aff my head, For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. Quoth I, " My bird, my bonnie bonnie bird, Is that a talc ye borrow, Or is't some words yc'vc learnt by rote, Or a lilt o' dool an' sorrow ?" " Oh ! no, no, no," the wee bird sang, " I've flown sin' mornin' early, But sic a day o' wind and rain — O ! wae's me for Prince Charlie ! " On hills that are by richt his ain, He roams a lonely stranger ; On ilka hand he's press'd by want, On ilka side by danger. Yestreen I met him in a glen, My heart niaist burstit fairly ; For sairly changed indeed was he — Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie. " Dark night cam' on, the tempest roar'd Cold o'er the hills and valleys ; An' whaur was't that your prince lay down, Whase hame should been a palace ? K \ 194 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. He row'd him. in a Highland plaid, Which covcr'd him but sparely, An' slept beneath a bush o' broom — Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie." But now the bird saw some red coats. An' he shook his wings wi' anger, " O ! this is no a land for me, I'll tarry here nae langer." Awhile he hovered on the wing Ere he departed fairly. But weel I mind the fareweel strain Was " Wae's me for Prince Charlie !'' SOME LOVE TO HO AM. This song was written by C. MacKay, and set to music by Russel. To huntsmen it is j)eculiarly pleas- ing. Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free. But a chosen band in a mountain land, , And a life in the woods for mo. When morning beams o'er the mountain streams Oh ! merrily forth we go, To follow the stag to his slippery crag. And to chase the bounding roe. Some love to roam, &c. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 195 Tlio deer we mark in the forest dark And the prowling wolf we track, And for right good cheer, in the v/ildwood here, Oh ! why should a hunter lack — For with steady aim at the bounding game, And hearts that fear no foe— To the darksome glade, in the forest shade, Oh! merrily forth we go. Some love to roam &c. WHEX I AM FAR AWAY. This sweet ditty is the production of a Canadian poet, Evan McColl, of Kingston. He f)ublished in Scotland a pretty volume of poetry, and called it " The Mountain Minstrel, in 1838, and previous to his coming to Canada. He also \vi'ote the stirring song on the marriage of the Princess Louise and the Mar- quis of Lome, which is inserted in this collection. Some of his other songs are : " The Shej)h€rd Boy, " '' The Hills of the Heather Glenaraijy Ho has also written some fine poems : — And thou wilt sing the song, sweet child, "When I am far away. And thou wilt wake the echoes wild, To list unto my lay. This thought will cheer the minstrel's heart, Forget though others may, That thou wilt sing the song, sweet child, When 1 am far away. 196 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Unknown to wealth and friendship too, Though oft the minstrel sings, Give him his fame, though small the due. He'll laugh at crowns and kings. Ev'n I the thought is heaven to me, Ev'n I my meed shall ha'e. Since thou wilt sing the song, sweet child, When I am far away. A great many songs about 35 years ago — old as well as of modern date — were collected and collated by Alexander Rodger, Donald Carrick and others, and published under the peculiar name of " Whistle Binkie." One extract from that collection follows ^ as others have already been given. Rodger wrote the song on the occasion of the marriage of Queen Victoria and the late lamented Prince Consort. THE EOYAL UNION. There's joy in the Lowlands and Higlilands, There's joy in the hut and the ha' ; The pride o' auld Britain's fair islands Is woo'd and wedded an' a' : She's got the dear lad o' her choosing — A lad that's baith gallant and braw ; And lang may the knot be a loosing That firmly has buckled the twa. "Woo'd and wedded an' a'. Buckled an' bedded an* a'. The loveliest lassie in Britain Is woo'd an' wedded an' a'. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 19t May heaven's all bountiful Giver Shower down his best gifts on the twa : May love round their couch ever hover, Their hearts close and closer to draw. May ne'er misfortune o'ertake them, Nor blast o' adversity blaw ; But every new morning awake them To pleasures unsullied as snaw. "VYoo'd and wedded an' a', &c. • - - Then here's to our Queen an' her Marrow, ' May happiness aye be their fa', May discord and sickness and sorrow Be banished for ever their ha'. So, fy let us coup aif our bicker, And toast meikle joy to the twa. And may they, till life's latest flicker, Together in harmony draw. Woo'd and wedded an' a', &c. Many individual songs have appeared since the commencement of this century and especially in the past 40 j-ears. One song in particular had a host of admirers a quarter of a century ago. The song is supposed to have been written by our Most Gracious Majesty the Queen and is said to have been picked uji by the chamber maid in the j^arlor of Balmoral Castle on the morning of the Queen's leaving the Highlands for England. 198 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. on, WOE BETIDE THE MORNING. Oh, woe betide the morning, Oh, woe betide the day, That sees us frae these Hieland hills In sorrow forced away. There's not a lassie in the strath, Or gillie on the hill, But stays — if she have mind to stay — Or goes against her will. But I, and my braw Albert, Our Lords and Lcddies too, Wi' a' the bairns and babbie things. Maun tak the journey noo. The southron folk expect us a' Again amang them soon — Oh, weary is the head that wears And maun support, a crown. Sae blythe a time we've spent here, Amang the Hieland heather, The clansmen gathering all around, Wi' smart cockade and feather ; Mysel' astcer ere dawn o' day. And Albert deer a-stalking, Wi' trophies on the mountain won, Ere other folks were wauking. Our bairnies too, sae cheery, Upon the braes disporting. The cones o' pine, the heather-bell, Among their toys assorting. History op Scottish song. 199 Their hearts as light as ours to-night, The morrow — sad and grieving, To hear that they, and we, maun gao. These Hieland hills a' leaving. Oh, woe betide the morning, &c., &c. J. P. Carrick wrote the beautiful song which follows: DEAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND. Draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! Over moor and mountain hath passed the war sign ; The pibroch is j)ealing, pealing, pealing, "Who heeds not the summons is nae son o' thine. The clans they are gathering, gathering, gathering. The clans they are gathering by loch and by lea ; The banners they are flying, flying, flying, The banners they are flying that lead to victory. Draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! Charge as you've charged in the days o' langsyne Sound to the onset, the onset, the onset. He who but falters is nae son o' thine. Sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! Sheathe the sword, Scotland, for dimm'd is its shine The foemen are fleeing, fleeing, fleeing, And who kens nae mercy is nao son o' thine ! The struggle is over, over, over, The struggle is over — the victory won ! There are tears for the fallen, the fallen, the fallen, And glory for all who their duty have done. Sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland. 200 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Eyan wrote : — THE LASS WI' THE BONNIE BLUE EEN. O, saw ye the lass wi' the bonnie blue een ? Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen, Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween, — She's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green. The home of my love is below in the valley, Where wild flowers welcome the wandering bee ; But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen, Is the maid that I love, wi' the bonnie blue een. O saw ye the lass, &c. When night overshadows her cot in the glen, She'll steal out to meet her loved Donald again ; And when the moon shines on the valley so green, I'll welcome the lass wi' the bonnie blue een. As the dove that has wandered away from his sweet nest. Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best, I'll fly from the world's false and vanishing scene, To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonnie blue een. O saw ye the lass, &c. John Parry wrote the following two songs : O ! MEREY ROW THE BONNIE BARK. {Founded on an ancient Northumbrian melody.) *' O ! merry row, O I merry row The bonnie bonnie bark ; Bring back my love to calm my woe, Before the night grows dark. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 201 " My Donald wears a bonnet blue, A bonnet blue, a bonnet blue, * A snow-white rose upon it too, A Highland lad is he. " Then merry row, O ! merry row The bonnie bonnie bark, ! merry row, O ! merry merry row, And bring him safe to me." As on the pebbly beach 1 stray'd. Where rocks and shoals prevail, 1 thus o'erheard a Lowland maid Her absent love bewail. A storm arose — the waves ran high — The waves ran high — the waves ran high— • And dark and murky was the sky — The wind did loudly roar. But merry row'd, 1 merry row'd The bonnie bonnie bark, O ! merry row'd the bonnie bonnie bark. And brought her love on shore. SMILE AGAIN, MY BONNIE LASSIE. Smile again, my bonnie lassie, lassie, smile again, Pri'thee do not frown, sweet lassie, for it gives me jmin. If to love thee too sincerely be a fault in me. Thus to use me so severely is not kind in thee. Oh! smile again, my bonnie lassie, lassie, smile again, Oh 1 smile again, my bonnie lassio,pri'thee smile again, 202 HISTORY Of SCOfTISfi SONG. Fare-thee-well ! my bonnie lassie,lassie,fare-thee-well ! Time will show thee, bonnie lassie, more than tongue can tell. Tho' we're doom'd by fate to sever (and 'tis hard to part,) Still, believe me, thou shalt ever own my faithful heart. Then smile again, my bonnie lassie, lassie, smile again. Oh! smile again,my bonnie lassie, pri'thee smile again. Freeman wrote : — HERE'S A HEALTH BONNY SCOTLAND. Here's a health to fair Scotland,the land of the brave — Here's a health to the bold and the free, And as long as the thistle and heather shall wave- Here's a health bonny Scotland, to thee. Here's a health to the land of victorious Bruce, And the champions of liberty's cause. And may their example fresh heroes produce. In defence of our rights and our laws. Here's a health, &c. Here's a health to the land where bold Wallace un- furled His bright banner of conquest and fame ; The terror of foemen, the pride of the world. Long may Scotland hold dearly his name ; And still, like their fathers, our brothers are true, And their valour with pleasure we see ; Of the wreaths that were won at renowned Waterloo, There's a bough of the laurel for thee. Here's a health, &c. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 203 Here's success to the Thistle, the Shamrock,the Rose — May they ever in harmony twine ; And should wily discord again interpose, Let us challenge each other in wine ; For while we're united foes threaten in vain, And their daring our fame shall increase ; Till the banner of victory o'er land and main Triumphant is waving in peace. Here's a health, &c. Peter Still wrote :— YE NEEDNA BE COURTIN' AT ME, AULD MAN. ye needna be courtin' at me, auld man, Ye needna be courtin' at me ; Yu're three-score and three, and ye' re blin' o' an e'e, Sae ye needna be courtin' at me, auld man, Ye needna be courtin' at me. Ha'e patience and hear me a wee, sweet lass, Ha'e patience and hear me a wee, 1 ha'e goupins o' gowd, and an awmry weel stow'd, And a heart that lo'es nane but thee, sweet lass, And a heart that lo'es nane but thee. Gang hame to your gowd and your gear, auld man. Gang hame to your gowd and your gear, There's a laddie I ken has a heart like my ain, And to me he shall ever bo dear, auld man, And to me he shall ever bo dear. 204 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SOJIO. 1*11 busk ye as braw as a queen, sweet lass, I'll busk ye as braw as a queen, I ha'e guineas to spare and, hark ye, what's mair, I'm only twa score and fifteen, sweet lass, I'm only twa score and fifteen. O staa' aff na', and fash me nae mair, auld man, Stan' aff na', and fash me nae mair. There's a something in love that your gowd canna move — I'll be Johnnie's although I gang bare, auld man, I'll be Johnnie's although I gang bare. BOI^NIE MAEY HAY. Archibald Crawford, a native of Ayr, is the author of this song. It appeared in his series of stories published in 1825, which was entitled " Tales of ray Grandmother". Bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet. For thy eye is the slae, and thy air is the jet. The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek ; Oh ! bonnie Mary Hay, I will lo'e thee yet. Bonnie Mary Hay, will you gang wi' me. When the sun's in the west, to the hawthorn tree ? To the hawthorn tree in the bonnie berry den ? And I'll tell you, Mary Hay, how I lo'e you then. Bonnie Mary Hay, it's haliday to me. When thou art coothie, kind, and free, There's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky. My bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh. felSTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 205 Bonnie Mary Hay, thou maunna say mo nay ; But come to the bow'r by the hawthorn brae. But come to the bow'r, and I'll toll you a' that's true, Oh, bonnie Mary Hay ! I can ne'er lo'e ane but you. J. Black wrote : FOE OH ! THOU WEKT MINE O^^LY LOVE. Alone I sit and think on thee, When all around are hush'd in sleep. And as fond memory calls thee forth My eyes grow dim, I can but weep. For oh I thou wert my only love, I loved but thee, but thee alone, And fondly, fondly did I hope. That thou wouldst yet be all mine own. Our haj)py walks in yonder glen, Our resting-place beneath yon tree, Our hopes and vows when we did part Ah ! ne'er can be forgot by me. For oh ! thou wert, &c. Oh ! cruel death thy wanton sting, Has sorely, sorely wounded me, Thoust ta'en frae me my brightest joy. And left the salt, salt tear with me. For oh ! thou wert, &c. 206 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONQ. William Cameron wrote : O ! DINNA CROSS TIIE BURN, WILLIE. 0, dinna cross the burn, Willie, Dinna cross the burn ; For big's the spate, and loud it roars, O, dinna cross the burn. Your folks a' ken you're here the night, And sair they would me blame ; Sae bide wi' me till mornin' lighi; : Indeed your'e no' gaun hame. Ha'e ye nae care about yoursel' ; To brave that fearfu' storm ? Some twa three hours a tale may tell We noo can hardly form. 0, dinna cross, &c. O bide, dear Willie, here the night, O bide till morning here — Your faither — he'll see a' things right, And y'ell hae' nought to fear, Sae dark's the lift, nae moon is there. The rain in torrents pours — Ah ! see the lightnin's dreadfu' glare, Hear how the thunder roars. O, dinna cross, &c. Away he rode, nae kindness could His wild resolve o'crturn j He plunged into the fOaming flood. But never cross'd the burn. HlSTORTT OP SCOTTISH SONG. 207 And noo, though ten lang years ha'o past, Since this wild storm blew by. Ah ! still the maniac hears the blast, And still the crazy cry, O, dinna cross, &c. The following song — poems, ballads and songs are unknown as to the authorship. They consist of a variety of subjects,, and were made at different eras of the history of Scottish Minstrelsy. ANOTE O' THE BANKS 0' DEE. It may not be, it cannot be, That such a gem was made for me j But oh ! gin it had been my lot, A palace, not a Highland cot : That bonny, simple gem had thrown Bright lustre round a jewelled crown ; For oh ! the sweetest lass to me Is Annie o' the banks o' Dee. Chorus — Annie o' the banks o' Doe, Annie o' the banks o' Dee, For oh ! the sweetest lass to me Is Annie o' the banks o' Dee. I love her for her artless truth, I love her with the heart of youth ; When all the golden dreams of love Bring winged angels from above : A stolen glance from Annie snares My heart away from a' its cares \ For oh ! the sweetest lass to me Is Annie o' the banks o' Dee. ^08 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. I LO'E THE HILLS OF SCOTLAND. I lo'e the hills of Scotland, May her thistle proudly wave, The emblem of my native land, The motto of the brave. Thy sons shall guard thy rocky shores From every hostile band. And in the cause of liberty Shall aye the foremost stand. I lo'e the hills, &c. Where is the heart that wadna warm To hear o' Scotland's weal ? The name alone it breathes a charm Her sons shall ever feel. I lo'e the hills, &c. Thy sons, though far in ither climes. Still mind the happy spot ; The noisy brook, the silver stream. And ivy covered cot. I lo'e the hills, &c. Home of my youth^ — my fond desire Shall o'er the waters glide, For aye auld Scotland shall be free, Free as the swelling tide. I lo'e the hills, &c. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 209 MY FATHEELAND. And must I bid a last farewell — A long, a sad adieu To lake and forest, flood and fell ? To all I loved so true ? The vessel bounds o'er billows free. Night's shadows are at hand, And i must see no more of thee, My dear, dear Fatherland ! O Scotland ! o'er th' Atlantic's roar Tho' fated to depart, Nor fortune's frown nor tyrant's power Can tear thee from my heart ; — My happy, happy Highland home. Still far away thou' It seem An Eden bright in fancy's light, A heaven in mem'ry's dream ! Land of the thousand heath-clad hills — The streams that wildly flow In music through tho shieling dells Where often bounds the roc, — Land of the brave, the fair, the free. May foe ne'er touch thy strand : Farewell to thee ! farewell to tliee I My dear, dear Fatherland ! 210 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. MARY OF ARGYLE. I have heard the mavis singing His love song in the morn, I have seen the dew-drops clinging To the rose just newly born. But a sweeter song has cheared me, At the evening's gentle close, And I've seen an eye still brighter Than the dew-drop on the rose. 'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, And thy artless winning smile, That made this world an Eden, Bonny Mary of Argylc. Tho' thy voice may lose its sweetness, And thine eye its brightness, too, Tho' thy step may lack its fleetness, And thy hair its sunny hue; Still to me thou wilt be dearer Than all the world shall own, I have loved thee for thy beauty, But not for that alone. I have watch'd thy heart, dear Mary, And its goodness was the wile That has made thee mine for ever, Bonny Mary of Argyle. THE BONNIE LASS. Fair is the morn in flow'ry May, And sweet is night in autumn mild. When walking in the garden gay, Or roaming in the valley wild j HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 211 But woman, Nature's darling child, In thee all work she doth excel, In thcc all other work is foil'd The bonnie lass I love so well. Oh I had she been a village maid, And I a lowly shepherd swain, And shelter' d on the lowest mead That ever rose on Scotland's plain — Through weary winter's wind and rain, With joy and rapture would I hail, And nightly to my bosom strain, The bonnie lass I love so well. THE STAR OF GLENGARY. ' The red moon is up o'er the moss-covered mountains, The hour is at hand when I promised to rove With the cottager's daughter, by Logan's fair water, And tell her how truly her Donald can love. And tell, &c. I ken there's the miller, wi' plenty o' siller. Wad fain win a smile from her bonnie blue o'o ; But my ain charming Mary, the star o' Glengary, Keeps a' her sweet smiles and soft kisses for me. Keeps a', &c. 'Tis lang since we first trod the Iliolands thegither, Twa frolicsome bairns, gaily starting the deer. When I ca'd her my life, my bonnie wee wife, And ne'er felt sic joy as when Mary was near. And ne'er, &c. 212 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. An' still she's the blossom I wear in my bosom, A blossom I'll cherish and wear till I dee : For my ain charming Mary, the star o' Glengary, She's health, and she's wealth, and she's a guid to me. She's health, &c. HALF-PAST TEN. I mind when I courted my ain wife Jean — Tho' often I gaed, she little was seen ; For her father — the elder — like a' godly men, Aye steeked his door about half-past ten. Ae Sacrament Sabbath I saw Jeanio hame-— Ony lad wi' his lassie wad hae dune the same, We cracked sae long at the cozy fire en'. That the time slij)ped awa' till near half-past ten. The worthy man read, syne rev'rently prayed. And when he was dune he solemnly said ; " It has aye been a rule — but 'tis likely ye ken — That we stock a' our doors about half-j)ast ten." The hint was enough for a blate lad like me, But I catched a blink o' Jeanie's black e'e, As much as to say, come ye back to the glen, And ye'll may be stay langor than half-past ten. Aenicht twa-three lads and my^e'' did agree To gang some place near jist to hao a bit spree, Quo I, " What d'ye think to gang doun to the glen, For we're sure to bo hame about half-paat ten. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG, 213 We a' were received wi' hearty guidwill, An' the elder, nae less, broaeli'd a cask o' his yill ; Syne gaed aff to his bed, and says Jean ye'll atten' That the doors are a' locked at half-past ten. " Ou, aye," says Jean, but the best o' the joke Was her slipping ben and stopping the clock; I'm no gang to tell you the hoo or the when. But the hauns were na' pointing to half-past ten. Aboot four i' the morning the auld man arose. An', lichtin' a spunk, to the clock strauglit he goes, " Guide sauf us, guidwifo, did ye hear me gae ben' Lo'd the lads are awa' afore half-past ton. But the cat vera sune was let oot o' the pock, By the kecklin' o' hens an' the craw' of the cock, An' openin' the shutters, he clearly saw then Wo wad a' hae our breakfast ere half-past ten. Ye ne'er heard such lauchin a' the days o' yer life, And nano were sae hearty's the auld man an' his wife. Quo he, " What'll the lasses no dae for the men ? E'en cheat their auld ftiithers wi' half-jiast ten." It was settled then that Jean should be mine ; The wedding sune followed, an' we've aye sinsyno Leev'd happy thegither, an' hope to the en,' We'll aye min' that nicht an' its half-past ten. And noo a wee bit of advice I would gi'e : — " Ne'er stint young folks time when they gang to a spree, I'm a faither mysel', but brawly I ken, That the fun jist begins about — half-past ten. 214 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG THE WEE ROSEBUD. The cauld bare win' was blawin' Wi' an early winter blast, An' the yellow leaves were fa'in', For their fair green life was past ; They danced about i' the surly gust, As if laith to part frae the tree — Oh, they min't me sair o' the frien's that must For aye be twin'd frae me. On ae wee roscbuss was ae wee bit bud, 'Twas the only ane I saw, An' I wonnort hoo it alane had stud, "When the rest were dead an' awa — It min't me o' the only ae heart That's left when the lave hae past. As the only ban' that winna part, In sunshine or winter's blast. Its rosy e'e was sae fair when a' Was wallow't an' wilsome beside, An' it seem'd to smile in its tiny blaw Wi' a sweet an' a happy pride. I thocht it said, " They're a' gane noo, That were braw i' the sunny hour ; But I have bidden to speak to you, Tho' the cluds o' winter lower." Like tho ae kin' heart, wha fearsna Tho dark an' dolefu' tide C mortal ill, an' caresna, Tho' a' ithers leave my side — HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 215 It's only whan the heart is sad, An' few may care to cheer, That ae sweet voice can mak me glad, Like this wee bit blossom here. THE SCOTCH THISTLE. "We ha'e sangs about myrtle, an' sangs about oak. An' sangs about palm trees an' willows ; We ha'e sangs about battles an' glory an' smoke, An' sangs about crossin' the billows. Their palm trees an' willows are fushionless gear, For myrtles I carena a whistle ; I'll sing o' our ain Scottish emblem sae dear, The wide-spreading, sturdy auid thistle. Langsyne when King Haco, that terrible chiel. Whose hame was the wild stormy ocean, Cam' o'er frae the Baltic as fierce as the do'il, By my saul, but he raised a commotion. But he made naething o't, for on Largs' bluidy strand. He was crush'd in his shell like a mussel ; "Come awa', lads," quo' ho, " wo maun leave this curs'd land. Faith, we'll no soon forgot the Scotch thistle." When Edward cam' down like the wild mountain flood, Wi' his chivalry prancin' in bravery ; Ho swore by St. George, an' his ain royal bluid, He would bring puir auld Scotland to slavery. 216 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. But our hardy blue bonnets, at fam'd Bannockburn, Ga'e his mail-coated heroes a tussle ; An' for mony a lang year " merrio England " did mourn, An' bann'd baith the Scots an' their thistle. O' our bravo Scottish clans, time would fail me to toll A' their deeds, that are famous in story ; How for freedom they fought, an' for freedom they fell. Their slogan " Come death, or come glory." . O'er their graves may the red heather blossom for aye, An' the pines wave wi' murmurin' rustle ; In our bosoms their mem'ry shall never decay, While green grows the wide-sproadin' thistle. ft Now, " Here's to the Queen, the Prince, an' the Weans," May her reign be baith prosp'rous an' happy : Here's " The People ;" frae age, wi' its sorrows an' pains, To the bairnie that lies in the lappie. May the sunshine o' liberty gladden our sight. Free frae war's deadly turmoil and bustle ; While the red blushin' rose an' green shamrock unite, Wi' the wide-spreadin' sturdy Scotch thistle. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 21*7 ' AULD SCOTLAND. A song for thoe, auld Scotland, the beautiful, the brave, Where the heather blooms so sweetly, where the bonny tartans wave, Where loch and tarn lie sparkling, in the gladsome summer sky, And crag and earn re-echo with the lordly eagle's cry. Oh well, with pride, the bosom of ' the kindly Scot ' may swell, Whose ev'ry inch of native soil some gallant deed can tell; Where ev'ry stream breathes music, as it wildly rolls along, And wafts from ev'ry tow'r a tale — from ev'ry isle a song. When for thy cherish'd liberty thou stood'st in days of yore, Thy brow was stern, thy heart was firm, and keen thy ' gude claymore.* Let him, who deems thee chang'd since then, thy broadsword stroke less true, Go count the foes that fell before thy sons at Water- loo. Oh ! land of Bruce and Wallace, of mountain and of glen. Where virtue crowns the maiden's brow, and valour moulds the men, I. 218 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Lnog, long as thy fair heritage ' the links of faith* shall be, Unbroken may the bonds remain that bind our hearts to thee. I HAD A IIAME. I had a hamc and I had a hope,, and ano wlio lo'ed mo too — But him they banished far away, and others came to woo, And now. ^iko anc that's in a dream, I roam by glen and lee, And have a fancy thus to sing, the grave, the grave for me. And hark ! the echoes still reply. The grave, the grave for me. They tell me that the clay is cauld, though a' be warni elsewJaerc, And that nae ray of light can meet the bonnie black e'e there; But they hae hearts mair cauld, I trow, than aught that there can be, Who taught me thus to stray and sing, the grave, the grave for me. And hark ! the echoes still reply. The grave, the grave for me. It was na weel to chase the hue o' this pale cheek away. And waken in my heart the pain that sleeps not night or day : HISTORY OJ' SCOTTISH SONG. 219 It was na wcel to part mo thus frae him I ne'er shall see, And leave me here to stray and sing, the grave, the grave for me. And hark ! the echoes still reply, The grave, the grave for mo. Our meeting still was in the bower wlicn dowie mid- night came, For love is like a tender flower, aye sweetest far frao hame ; My hame will soon be far away, and I at rest will be. And thus I have delight to sing, the grave, the grave for me. And hark ! the echoes still reply, The grave, the grave for me. A DITTY O' FORTY-FIVE. Our sceptre was stown by the hands o' our foemen, An' Charlie maun wander beyond the fierce main ; But leal hearts an' strong hands are burnin' to welcome Our Prince to his crown, an' auld Scotlan' again. For lang hae we felt a' the woes o' a tyrant, An' lang hae we mourn'd for the lad that's awa'; Then soon may he come to the hame o' his fathers. An' hear the blythe welcome, "Prionnsa Toarlach gu brath !" 220 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. The beacon shall gleam, like the moon on the ocean, To pleasure his heart as he cometh afar ; The fiery-cross speed o'er the moors an* green valleys, An' rouse the brave clansmen to haste to the war. For lang hao we felt, &c. Oh ! then, wo will gather, wi' hearts beating lightly^ An' eyes beaming bright as the claymores we bear — Fair maids they will deck wi' the plumes o' the eagle An* blooms o' the heather, the bonnets we wear. For lang hae wo felt, &c. We'll hew a tall pine from its deep native forest, Where Spey rolls her waters in darkness along. An' fix there a banner to honour our Charlie, An' hail its first flutter wi' pibroch an' song. For lang hao we felt, &c. Then quick we will rear it, that Englan' may see it, On the hill that is steepest, an' nearest the cloud, An' — ere it's defiled by the hands o' fauso traitors — Our sword-arm shall wither, its faulds be our shroud. For lang hae we felt, &c. Like torrents that foam from the crest o' the moun- tain. In anger, in vengeance, we'll rush on the foe ; Their ranks shall be broken, their leaders forsaken. An' the pride o' the Southern for ever laid low. For lang hae we felt, &c. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 221 HEARD YE THE BAGPIPE. 2d Voice. Ileard ye the bagpipe, heard ye the drum ? 1st Voice. Heard ye the news, that Charh'e is come ? Both. And tho Whigs a' rinr,in', rin, rin, rinnin' ? And tho Whigs a' rinnin' fust avva' hame ? And the Whigs a' rinnin', rin, rin, rinnin' ? And tho Whigs a' rinnin' fast awa' hame ? 2d. Were j'O at Holyrood ? saw ye him there ? 1st. Saw ye him sittin' in his ain mciklc chair ? And the Whigs a' rinnin', &c. 2d. Haith, Donald! I saw him at Holyrood house, 1st. Wi' money braw lads, fu' keen and fu crouse, And the Whigs a' rinnin', &c. 2d. We'll delve our ain yard, and we'll pu' our ain kail, 1st. We'll brew our ain maut. and drink our ain yiii ; For the Whigs are rinnin', &e. 1st, The rose it is white, 2c?. And the heather is red ; 1st. The tano they'll ne'er pu', Both. Nor the tither e'er tread ; For they're aff and rinnin', Rin, rin, rinnin' ; For they're aff and rinnin', Fast awa' hame. 222 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. BOTIIWELL CASTLE. Old Botliwoll Castle's ruin'd towers Stand lonely 'mang yon woody bow'rs Where Clutha fondly winds around, Ah loth to leave the hallowed ground. But whore are now the martial throng ? The festive board, the midnight song ? The ivy binds the mould'ring walls, And ruin reiijns in Bothwell halls. O deep and long have sluniber'd now, The cares that knit the soldier's brow. The lovely grace, the manly pow'r. In gilded hall and lady's bow'r. Old Bothwell castle, ages gone. Have left thee mould'ring and alone : While noble Doui>:las still retains Thy verdant groves and fair domains. No Saxon foe may storm thy walls. Or riot in thy regal halls — Long, long hath slept bravo Wallace' shade, And broken now his battle-bhuic. The tears that fell from beauty's eye, The broken heart, the bitter sigh ; And deadly feuds have passed away, Still thou art lovely in decay. HISTORY OF SCOITISII SOXG. 223 MY HEATHER HILLS. gladsome is the sea, wi' its heaving tide, And bonnie arc the plains in tlieir simmer pride ; Eut the sea wi' its tide, and the plains wi' their rills Are nae half sae dear as my heather hills. 1 can heedless look on the siller sea, I may tentless muse on the flow'ry lea^ But my heart wi' a nameless rapture thrills When I gaze on the clifts o' my heather hills. Then hurrah, hurrah, for the heather hills, AVhere the bonnie thistle waves to the sweet blue bells, And the v/ild mountain floods heave their crests to the clouds, Sync foam down the steeps o' my heather hills. ! aft in my roving youthfu' days, I've nestled and row'd on their sunny braes ; And poukit the bloom and the sweet hare bells Alt' the bonnie broomy knowcs o' my heather hills. 1 ha'e berried the nest o' the wild muircoek, I lia'e clamber'd the steeps o' the raven's rock ; I ha'o courted my love in their rocky fells, And won a sweet bride on my heather hills. — Then hurrah, &c. I cling to their braos like the bud to the thorn. For' mang their heather knowlets sae free, was I born And the hame o' my youth is my lov'd hamo still, 'Nouth the kindly shade o' a heather hill. 224 HISTORY or Scottish song. And when nature fails, row'd in my plaid, I'll la}^ me down on a heather bed ; And leesome I'll wait till kind heaven wills To waft me awa' frae my heather hills. — Then hurrah, &c. THE WELLS 0' WEARIE. Sweetly shines the sun on auld Rdinbro' town, And maks' her look young and chcerie ; Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve, There's nought in the world to fear ye ; For I hae ask'dyour minnio, and she has gin ye leave To gang to the Wells o' Wearie. O the sun, winna blink in thy bonnie blue een, Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie, For I'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green, By the lanesome Wells o' AVearie. But Mar3% my love, beware ye dinna glower At 3-our form in the water so clearly, Or the fair}^ will change ye into a wee wee flower. And you'll grow by the Wells o' Vi arie. Yestreen as I wandei-ed there a' alane, I felt unco douf and drearie, For wanting my Mary a' around me was but pain, At the lanesome Wells o' Wearie. History op Scottish song. 225 Let fortune or fame their minions deceive, Let fate look gruesome and eerie ; True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve, When we meet by the Tells o' Wcarie. Then gangwi' me bj- bonnie Mary Grieve, Nae danger will daur to come near ye. For I hae asked j^our minnie, and she has gin ye leave To gang to the "Wells o' "VVearie. THE WOODS 0' DUNMORPl This fond heart is thine, lassie, charming and fair, This fond heart is thine, lassie dear; Nae world's gear ha'c I, nae oxen nor kye, I've nacthing, dear lassie, save a pure heart to gic. CHORUS. Yet dinna sae me na, but come, come awa, An' wander, dear lassie, 'mangtho woods o' Dunmore, An' wander, dear lassie, 'manir the woods o' Dunmore. O sweet is thy voice, lassie, charming an' fair, Enchanting thy smile, lassie dear ; I'll toil aye for thee, for ae blink o' thine e'o Is pleasure mair sweet than siller to me. Yet dinna say me na, &c. O come to my arms, lassie, charming an' fair, Awa' wild alarms, lassie dear ; This fond heart an' thine like ivy shall twine, I'll lo'e thee, dear lassie, till the day that 1 dec. O dinna say me na, «!tc. 226 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. THE MARCH OF THE CAMERON MEN. There's many a man of the Cameron clan That has followed his chief to the field ; He has sworn to support him, or die by his side — • For a Cameron never can yield. Chorus — I hear the pibroch sounding, sounding, Dee J) o'er the mountains and glen ; While light-springing footsteps are trampling the heath, 'Tis the march of the Cameron men. Oh proudly they walk, though each Cameron knows He may tread on the heather no more ; But Doldly he follows his chief to the field, Where his laurels were gathered before. The moon has arisen, it shines on that path Now trod by the gallant and true — High, high are their hopes, for their chieftain has said, That whatever men dare, they can do. THE HIGHLANDS! THE HIGHLANDS ! GIN I WERE THERE. The Highlands ! the Highlands ! gin I were there, Where the muirland and mountains are rugged and bare, Tho' bleak be the clime, and tho' scanty the fare, My heart's in the Highlands, O gin I were there. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 227 The Highlands ! the Highlands i My fond bosom swells, "When I think on thy streams gushing wild thro' thy dells, With thy rocks towering high, and thy lakes stream- ing fair, My heart's in the highlands, O gin I were there. The Highlands ! the Highlands ! far up yon grey glen, Stands a cosey wee cot, wi' a but and a ben, Wi' a dace at the door, and mj'- auld mither there, Croonin' *' haste yo back Donald and lea' me nae mair." The Highlands ! the Highlands ! there's health in the air. And freedom's enshrined in the h«^n: ls that are there. The clansmen are brave, and the maidens how fair ? Oh I my ain dear lov'd Highlands, Oh ! gin I were • there. MARY TO 'Vif. a" Oh, wha's to blame that I'm nae wed ? Oh, wha's to blame but thee, Willie ? My love is aye the same for you. But ye hao nanc for me, Willie. Love gathers up his broken shafts, Despair sits on his brow, Willie ; They a' fa' harmless frae the hearts, Of bachelors like you, Willie. 228 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. Sao'shiold yoursel' nae mair behind Excuses, for it's vain, Willie ; Why aggravate the grief you've caused, And wound my heart again, Willie ? Time heals the hearts o' mony ane. Though wounded deep and sair, Willie; But mine 's a wound that winna cure, A wound that heals nae mair, Willie. Hope aft would lichten up my e'e, When I was young and fair, Willie ; Now, hope has fled far, far frae me. And left my heart fii' sair, Willie. Your heart is cauld, love gets nae biel', In breasts sae chill as yours, Willie, Although his busy ban's should throw His darts on you in showers, Willie. Ye strike your lyre wi' muckle skill, But, oh ! 3'our lay is fausc, Willie ; I fear your love, if love ye hae, Is flung awa in sma's, Willie. Now Mary bids a last farcwcel, A last fareweel to you, Willie ; Though ye've been fause — O fause to mc- Still I've been leal and true, Willie. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. 229 CANADIAN BOAT SONG. The following was composed by the lalo Earl of Eglington, and found among his papers after his death : Listen to me, as when 3^0 heard our father Sing, long ago, the song of other shores : Listen to me, and then in chorus gather All 3^our deep voices, as you pull your oars : Fair these broad meads — these hoary woods are grand ; But Ave are exiles from our fathers' Land. From the lone shieling of the misty Island Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas ; Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides : Fair these broad meads — these hoary woods are grand ; But wo arc exiles from our fathers' Land. We ne'er shall tread the fancy-haunted valley, Where 'tween the dark hills, creeps the small clear stream, In arms around the patriarch banner rail}', Nor see the moon on royal tombstones gleam : Fair these broad meads — these hoary woods are grand ; But we arc exiles from our fathers' Land. When the bold kindred, in the time long vanish'd, Conquer'd the soil and fortifi'd the keep, No seer foretold the children would be banish'd, That a degenerate lord might boast his sheep: 230 HisTORt" of scoTi'isii soNa. Fair these broad meads — these hoary woods are grand ; But we are exiles from our fathers' Land. Come, foreign raid, let discord burst in slaughter ! Oh, then for clansmen true, and stern claymore ! The hearts that would have given their blood like water, "Beat heavily, bej^ond the Atlantic roar ; Fair these broad meads — these hoary woods are grand ; But we are exiles from our fathers' Land A. Hume wrote the two following songs : THE SCOTTISH EMIGEANT'S FAREWELL. Fareweel, farowcel, my native hame, Thy lonely glens an' heath-clad mountains, Fareweel thy fields o' storied fame, Thy leafy shaws an' sjDarklin fountains. Nae mair I'll climb the Pentlands' steep, Nor wander by the Esk's clear river, I seek a hame far o'er the deep, My native land, fareweel for ever. Thou land wi' love an* freedom crown 'd, In ilk wee cot an' lordly dwcllin' May manly-hearted 3'ouths be found, And maids in ev'ry grace excellin'. The land where Bruce and Wallace wight, For freedom fousjht in days o' danger, Ne'er crouch' d to proud usurpin' might. But foremost stood, wrong's stern avenger. filSTORT OP SCOTTISH SONG. 23l Tho' far frao thee my native shore, An' toss'd on life's tempestuous ocean ; My heart, aye Scottish to the core. Shall cling to thee wi' warm devotion. An' while the wavin' heather grows, An' onward rows the windin* river, Tlie toast be " Scotland's broomy knowes, Her mountains, rocks, an' glens for ever." SCOTLAND DEAR. My mountain hame, my mountain hame, My kind, my independent mother 1 While thought an' feeling rule my frame, Can I forget the mountain heather ? Scotland dear ! Though I to other lands may go, Should fortune's smile attend me thither. As robin comes in winter's snaw I'll hameward seek the mountain heather, Scotland dear 1 1 love to hear your daughters dear The simple tale in sang revealing; Whene'er your music greets my ear, My bosom melts wi' joyous feeling, Scotland dear I When I shall die, O I wad lie Where life an' me first met thegither, That my cauld clay, through its decay. Might bloom again in the mountain heather, Scotland, dear ! 232 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONCJ. Egbert Allan wrote LOYELY ARRAN MAID. Speed, speed, thou bonnie bark ! An' blaw thou gentle gale j An' waft mo to my native shore, An' sweet Glen-Eosa vale. Glen-Rosa ! thou art dear to me, An' dear to me the shade, Where I hae woo'd, where I hae won My lovely Arran maid. "Where I hae woo'd, &c. "When hung the mist upon the brae, An' thunder loud would swell, In echoes from the rugged cliff, An' down the hollow dell ; Ev'n then, amid Glen-Ilosa's wilds, I hae delighted strayed, To win the smile of that dear ane, My lovely Arran maid. "When flow'rs were waving owre the stream. An' blooming in their prime. An' owre the towering Goatfell hung. The harebell and the thyme , 'Twas sweet to climb the airy height, Or roam the dusky glade, "Wi' thee my heart sae fondly wooed. My lovel}^ Arran maid. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 233 were I chief of Arran's i.slo, Its hills an' glens sae steep, Nae mair my bark would beat the wave, Nae mair would plough the deep ; Glen-Eosa ! I would haunt thy bowers, Nor seek a sweeter shade Than thine, with Eosie in my arms, My lovely Arran maid. Dr. 0'31eara wrote MAECII TO THE BATTLE FIELD. March to the battle field. The foe is now before us ; Each heart is freedom's shield, And heaven is smiling o'er us. The woes and pains, the galling chains, Which kept our spirits under, In proud disdain we've broke again, And tore each link asunder. March to the battle field, &c. Who, for his country brave, Would fly from her invader, Who, his base life to save. Would traitor -like degrade her ? Our hallowd cause, our home and laws, 'Gainst tyrant power sustaining, We'll gain a crown of bright renown, Or die our rights maintaining. March to the battle field, &c. 23'k HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. J. McGregor wrote the two following songs: — LADDIE, Oil! LEAYE ME. Doun whar the burnie rins wimplin' and chcerie, When love's star was smilin' I met wi' my dearie ; Ah ! vain was it smilin', she wadna believe me, But cried wi' a saucy air, Laddie, oh ! leave me. " I've lo'ed thee o'er truly to seek a new dearie — I've lo'd thee o'er fondly thro' life e'er to weary — I've lo'd thee o'er lang, dear, at last to deceive thee — Look cauldly or kindly but, bid me nae leave thee." " There's nae ither saft e'e that fills me with pleasure — There's nae either rose-lip has half o' its treasure There's nae ither bower, love, shall ever believe me, Till death breaks this fond heart, then maun Heave thee." The tears o'er her cheeks ran, like dew frae red roses — What hope to the lover, one tear drop discloses ! I kissed them, and blest her, at last to receive me. Till prest to my heart, she sigh'd, " Oh ! never leave me." THE ROYEP'S SEEE:N"ADE. Come over the moon-lit sea, love, When the tide's gently flowing ; ' Come over the moon-lit sea, love. When the wind's gently blowing. HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONO. 235 And ere the dawn of morning light, We'll be far out on the sea ; And cheer the silent gloom of night, "With dancing and revelry. Come over, «S:c. And o'er the green waves we'll fly, love. Like the clouds before the breeze, With the black flag waving high, love, O'er the' Skimmer of the Seas.' And should a sail e'er heave in sight. We'll crowd every stitch in chase. For my bravo little bark is swift and light, And we'll speedily win the race. Come over, &c. The celebrated writer of "Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers" is the author of the following beautiful and pathetic song. Professor Aytoun is better known as a lay writer than as a song composer, but this ex- ample shows that whatever he touches has pathos, feeling and poetic beauty in it. What a pretty yet sad conclusion are these words : " But we'll hold our tryst in heav'n, W^illie, In the spring time o' the year." ANNIE'S TRYST. Your hand is cauld as snaw, Annie, Your cheek is wan and white ; "What gars ye tremble sao, Annie, What mak's your e'e sae bright ? 236 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONa. The snaw is on the ground, Willie, The frost is cauld and keen, But there's a burnin' fire, Willie, That sears my heart within. The spring will come again, Annie, And chase the winter showers. And you and I shall walk, Annie, Amang the simmer flow'rs. Oh ! bonnie are the braes, Willie, When a' the drifts are gane. But my heart misgi'es me sair, Willie, Ye'll wander there alane. Oh ! will ye tryst wi' me, Annie ? Oh ! will ye tryst me then? I'll meet ye by the burn, Annie, That wimples down the glen. *I daurna tryst wi' jow, Willie, I daurna tryst ye here, But we'll hold our tryst in heav'n, Willie, In the spring time o' the year. Colin Sieveright wrote the following song. He is one of the few still living aut^ ors mentioned in this History, and was the author of *' A Garland for the Ancient City." The song given here is one of a series of eftiisions which bears the name of" Love Lilts o' the Braes o' Angus." HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 237 WHERE THE BURXIE ROWS— LINTRATHEX. Where the burnie rows, an' the heather grows, An' the sun shines brieht an' fair ; Whore the blue hare-bell, an' the tinkling rill, Wi' their music fill the air; Nora, love, will yo roam wi' mo Where the lichtsome lammic plays ; On the gowdon knowcs and the hiddlin' howos 0' Lintrathen's sunny braes ? Where the burnie rows, an' the lieather grows, An' the muircock craws sac crouse ; Dear Nora, say cud yo thole to stay I* the shepherd's woo cot house ? Cud ye aye be glad when yer shepherd lad Cam' hamo at the even-tide. To row yer head in his tartan plaid, An' to be his dautit bride ? Where the burnie rows, an' the heather grows, Far awa' fae tho warld o' strife ; iMvoct Nora Chrco, wad yo care to be Tho puir shepherd's ain gudowifo ; To milk tho yowos on tho gowdon knowe.s, An' to mak' tho yowo-milk cheese; To herd the cow, where tho rashes grow, An' to watch for the swarmin' boos ? Where tho burnie rows, an' tho heather grows. When the wintry tempests roar We'll faud tho yowcs on the broomy knowes, An' we'll stock thchallant door. 238 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Wi' the aumriefu', an' the meal kist too, Sae cozy, snug, an' warm, I' the ingle nook, wi' a checrie book, A' the lang forcnicht we'll charm. Where the burnio rowe^, an' the heather grows, There are jieats, an' sods, an' whins ; An' we'll big them in ere the storm comes on To birsle our tacs an' shins. I will read to you, while ye caird the 'oo That's tomak' the bairnies' clacs ; And 3 e'U bring again, wi' yer ain sweet sang, A' the joys o' oor coortin' days. The Crimean War and the terrible Mutiny in India were events which gave rise to veiy many poems and some songs. Theiwet McLaggan is con- picuous among the Avriters. One of his songs " We'll hae nane but Highland Bonnets here," and referring to an incident at the Battle of Alma, was a groat favorite with the Highland Brigade in the Crimea. WE'LL HAE XANE BUT HIGHLAND BONNETS HERE. Alma, field of heroes, hail, Alma, glorious to the Gael; Glorious the symbol dear. Glorious the mountaineer, Hark, hark to Campbell's battle cry ! It led the brave to victory ; It thundered through the charging cheer, W'ell hae nano but Highland bonnets here. We'll hao nano but Highland bonnets here. UISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 239 See, see the heights -where fight the brave ! See, see the gallant tartans wave ! How wild the work of Highland steel, When conquered thousands backward reel. See, see the warriors of the north, To death or glory rushing forth ! Hark to their shout from front to roar. We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! Hark to their shout from front to rear. We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! Braver field was never won, Braver deeds were never done. Braver blood was never shed. Braver chieftain never led, Braver swords were never wet With life's rod tide when heroes met ! Braver words ne'er thrilled the car, We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! We'll hae nane but HiHiland bonnets here ! CD Braver words ne'er thrilled the ear, We'll hae nane but Highland bonnets here ! Let glor^- rear her flag of fame. Brave Scotland cries, ' This spot I claim :' Here will Scotland bare her brand, Hero will Scotland's lion stand! Here will Scotland's banner flv, Hero Scotland's sons will do or die ! Hero shout above the * symbol dear,' 240 HISTORY OP SCOTTISH SONG. We'll hae nano but Highland bonnets hero ! We'll hao nane but Highland bonnets here ! It thundered through the charging cheer, We'll hao nano but Highland bonnets here ! He also wrote ^^ Hurrah for the Thistle^ nUHRAH FOR THE THISTLE. Hurrah ! for the thistle, the bonnio Scotch thistle, The evergreen thintlc of Scotland for mo; Awa' wi' the flow'rs in your lady-built bovv'rs, The strong-bearded wccl-guarded thistle for me. *Tis the flower the proud eagle greets in his flight, When ho shadows the stars with the wings of his might, 'Tis tho flow'r that laughs at the storm as it blows, For greater the tempest the greener it grows. Round tho love-lichted hames o' our ain native land — On the bonneted brow, on the hilt of the brand, On the face of the shield, 'mid the shouts of the free. May the thistle be seen where the thistle should be! Hurrah ! for the thistle, &c. Halo hearts hao we yet to bleed in its cause, Bold harps hae we yet to sound its applause ; How then can it fade, when sic chicls an' sic cheer, And sae mony braw sprouts o' the thistle arc here ! Then hurrah ! for the thistle, &c, HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONO. 2U Another of his songs is the affecting, but some say fictitious story of Jessie Brown at the siege of Luck- now. JESSIE BROWX. 'Mid the thunder of battle, the groans of the dj'ing, The wail of weak women, the shouts of brave men, A poor Highland maiden sat sobbing and sighing, As she longed for the peace of her dear native glen. But there came a glad voice to the ear of her heart — The foes of auld Scotland for ever will fear it, " TVo are saved ! wo are saved !" cried the brave Highland maid ; " 'Tis the Highlanders' slogan ! Oh, dinna ye hear it ?" A moment the tempest of battle was hushed, But no tidings of help did that moment reveal ; Again to the shot-shattered ramparts they rushed, Again roared the cannon, again flashed the steel Still the Highland maid cried, " Let us welcome the brave ! The death-mists are thick ; but their claymores will clear it ! The war-pipes are pealing, ' The Campbells are com- ing !' They are charging and cheering! Oh! dinna ye hoar it ?" 242 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG, The heroes of Lucknow ? fame crowns you with glory; Love welcomes you home with glad songs in your praise ; And bravo Jessie Brown, with her soul-stirring story, For ever will live in the Highlanders' lays. Long life to the Queen, and the hearts who defend her ! Success to our flag ! and, when danger is near it, May our pipes be heard playing, '• The Campbells are coming !" And an angel voice crying, '' Oh ! dinna ye hear it ?'' Another fine song-poem, written on ..he^dcath of Lord Clj^de (Sir Colin Campbell), by King Smith, must be inserted here as a tribute to the memory of one of Auld Scotia's bravest sons. LORD CLYDE OF CLYDESDALE. Silent was the battle-slogan, On no stricken field he fell ; England's clasping arms were round him, Warrior whom she trusted well. Yet our thoughts are all of conflict As beside that grave we mourn, For his name was hung with trophies From a thousand focmen torn. HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. 243 Fast are memories thronging o'er us Of the grand old fields of Spain, How he faced the charge of Junot And the fight where Moore was slain. Oh ! the years of weary waiting For the glorious chance he sought, For the slowly rij)ening harvest That life's latest autumn brought. Tardy laurels ! yet he grasped them With a bold and steadfast hand, When we fought the swarthy swordsmen From the river-sundered land. And the lightning of his onset Pierced the Scythians' stubborn lines, When a new and fearful purple Flushed o'er Alma's tangled vines. There is many a Kussian mother, There is many a Tartar maid, Weeps the day when Balaklava Saw Sir Colin's red brigade. Yet in triumph's day they passed him Till there came a night of grief. And then England, in her anguish. Sought the old and slighted Chief. And from Ganges' banks to Indus Swept the legions that he led, And the torn and trampled lotus Marked their stern avenging tread. 244 HISTORY OF SCOTTISH SONG. Lay him thoro where On tram slumbers, Let him sleep by Canning's side ; Death has joined the great triumvirs, And has sheathed the sword of Clyde. "With two other illustrations wo close " The History of Scottish Song :" the first was written in 1870, hy the Canadian Poet, " Evan McColl," of Kingston, and of whom mention was made before. It is a spirited tribute to the happy event which it commonorates, and is called, LOUISE. Hurrah ! for the news o'er the wi 59 248 INDEX Come under my Plaidie 97 Contented wi' Little 148 Comin' through the Rye 152 Charlie is my Darling 153 Castles in the Air..^ 189 Canadian Boat Song 229 D. Down the Burny Davie 26 Duncan Gray 1G7 Draw the Sword, Scotland 199 E. Evening sheds her Gems of Dew 152 P. For ever Fortune C3 Forget Him 135 For a' That 140 For oh! Thou wert mine only Love 205 G. Get up and Bar the Door 56 Gloomy Winter's Now awa 74 Gilderoy , 116 Green Grow the Rashes, 168 H. He's Ower the Hills 43 Hame cam' our Gudeman at E'en 52 Hurra for the Highlands 88 Hail to the Chief 110 Highland Mary 139 Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue 159 Happy Friendship 162 Here's a Health, Bonny Scotland 202 Half-Past Ten 212 Heard ye the Bag Pipe 221 Hurrah for the Thistle 240 INDEX. 24d I. J. la the Garb of Old Gaul 66 Jessie, the Flower o' Dunblane 73 Jock o' Hazeldean 103 Jeannie Morrison 125 I gaed a "Watfu' Gate Yestreen 145 John Anderson, my Joe 150 111 Tend thy Bower 17G la the Silence of the Midnight Ilour 179 Ilka Blade o' Grass 190 I lo'e the Hills of Scotland 208 I had a Hame 218 Jessie Brown 241 K. Kelvin Grove 186 L. Leezie Lindsay 18 Lochaber no more 23 Logic of Buchan 35 Low down i' the Brume 87 Love 90 Lucy's Flittin' Ill Lachin-Y-Gair 120 Last May a Braw Wooer 155 Lovely Arran Maid 252 Laddie oh ! Leave me 234 Lord Clyde of Clydesdale 242 Louise 244 M. Mary's Dream 70 My Ain Fireside 83 My Heather Land 91 My Boy Tammy 93 My Nannie's Awa' 147 My Lowe's Like a Red, Red Rose 147 My Nannie, O ! 16G My Ain Wife 174 My Highland Home 185 260 INDEX. My Father Land 209 Mary of Argyle 210 My Heather Hills 223 Mary to W. C 227 March to the Battle Field 233 N. O. O'er the Waters 30 Wha's for Scotland and Charlie 48 O are ye sleeping, Maggie 78 Oh where, and oh where 8G Oh! Dinna Ask Me , 93 Whistle and I'll Come to yon, my Lad 103 Of a' the Airts the Win' can IJluw 164 Oh WhatyeWha 17G Oh! Why left I my Hame 181 Oh Woe Betide the Morning I'jS 0! Merry Row the Bonnie Bark 200 ! Dinna Cross the Burn, Willie 20G P. Q. R. Royal Charlie 41 Rise, Rise, Lowland and Highland Men 49 Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch 85 Rantin', Rovin' Robin 14'J Rob Roy Macgregor 172 Scotland Yet , 131 Somebody IGO Sweet is the Dawn 182 Saft is the Twink o' Thine e'e, Lassie 188 Some Love to Roam 194 Smile Again, ray Bonnie Lassie 201 Scotland Dear 231 Scotland's Welcome 245 T. The Auld Scotch Sangs 4 The Ewe-Buchts 19 The Wankingo' the Fauld 21 INDEX. 251 The Campbells arc Coming 27 The Flowers of the Forrest 29-30 Tullock Gorum 38 The Hundred Pipers 40 The Wee, Wee German Lairdie 47 The Gallant Montrose , 51 The Boatie Rows 58 The Rowan Tree 61 Tlie Lea Rig 66 Tliere's nae Luck about the House 60 The Bridal Day 72 The Lark 81 The Mitherless Bairn 89 The Year that's Awa' 92 The Wee Thing 95 There Cam' a Young Man 93 The Laird o' Cockpen 100 The MacGregors Gathering 102 The Maid's Remonstrance 113 The Evening Star 114 The Soldier's Dream 115 The Dirge of Wallace 118 The Nabob 122 The Scottish Blue Bells 129 The Bonnie Wee Rosebud 130 Thou Ling'ring Star 142 There Grows a Bonnie Briar Bush 150 The Birks of Aberfeldy 154 The Highland Laddie 158 Tarn Glen 169 The Land o' ihe Leal 171 The Happv Mother 173 The Rose of AUandale 177 The Heather Bell 178 The Lass o' Gowrie 179 Tell me, Dear 18t The Royal Union 190 The Lass wi' the Bonnie Blue E'en 200 The Star of Glengarry 211 The Woe Rose Bud 214 262 INDEX. The Scotch Thistle 215 The Wells o' Wearie 224 The Woods o' Dunmore 225 The March of the Cameron Men ^ 22G The Highlands! the Highlands! o gin I were there 226 The Scottish Emigrant's Farewell 230 The Rover's Serenade 234 U. V. w. When the King Comes Owrc the Water 44 Will you no Come Back Again 45 When Ye Gang Awa', Jamie 54 When John and me were Married 7G When the Kye Ccme Hame 79 When 1 roved a Young Highlander 119 Wat ails this Heart o' Mine 124 Willie Brewed a Peck o' Maut 157 Wedded Love 175 Wae's me for Prince Charlie 103 When I am Far Away 105 Where the Burnie Rows, Lintrathen 237 We'll hae nane but Highland Bonnets here 238 X. Y. Yak' your Auld Cloak about ye 36 Ye Banks and Braes 144 Ye Neednabe Courtin' at me, auld Man 203 Young Lochinrar 105