SCOTTISH SONGS, %ntunt antr glob^rn. CAEEFULLY COLLATED AND CORRECTED FROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES. WITH BRIEF NOTICES JOHN GILCHRIST. EDINBURGH : 79 P 1865. JAMES STILLIE, 79 PRINCES STREET. This celebrated Collection was printed many- years ago, but never published. Mr. Gilchrist is highly commended by Professor Aytoun for his selections, and Editorial care in his collection of Scottish Ballads and Sonars. The names of the Songs are printed on a larger type, the letters affixed, H. C, are from Herd's Collection, 1776, T. T. M., from Ramsaifs Tea Table Miscellany, 1724-29. The first lines of the Songs are on the smaller type. Page Acogieofale, . . Andrew Sheriffs 412 A' bodie's like to be married, | ^; ^«^**^^^ I 408 ' [ oj JLdinr., I Alloa House, Bev. Dr. Alex. Webster of Edin., 149 Andro and his cutty gun, . T. T. 31., IS Anna, .... Burns, 145 A red red rose, Auld gudeman, Auld King Coul, Auld lang syne, Auld Eob Morris Do. Burns, 194 Sir Alex. Boswell, 328 410 Burns, 322 . T. T.M., 357 Burns, 358 Auld Robin Grray, Lady Anne Lindsay, 200 Awa, Whigs, awa, ^ . Jacobite Song, 27G ( Picked uply Burns from \ A waukrife minnie, < a country girl in\zb2 ( Nithsdale, . j A boat danc'd on Clyde's bonny stream, . , 393 A friend of mine came here yestreen, -^ .** . 53 Again rejoicing nature sees, -^ . , . 206 A Highland lad my love was born, . . 362 832875 • Vi INDEX. A laddie and a lassie, ^ ; ■. A lass that was laden with care, . Altho' I he but a country lass, Altho' my back be at the wa' And are ye sure the news is true ? And ye sail walk in silk attire, r . An O, for ane and twenty, Tam! .^' As I came by Loch Eroch side, . As I came in by Auchindown, As I cam in by Calder fair. As I was walking ae May morning, As I went forth to take the air, ; As Jenny sat down wi' her wheel, As Patie came up frae the glen, • . As walking forth to vicAV the plain, At Polwart on the green, . Auld Rob the laird o' muckle land, Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, A wee bird cam to our ha' door, . Bagrie o't, , , Bannockburil, Bannocks o' barley, Bannocks o' barley meal, Bauldy Fraser, . . J. Jdogg^ Bess the gawkee, Rev. Mr. Muirliead of Urr, Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, partly by Bamsay, . . H. C, Page 38 194 350 406 238 191 18? 164 364 335 217 16 408 34 93 146 400 126 380 323 272 288 318 376 22t) 104 235 ' 268 Eamsayj 160 Jacobite, 371 T. T. M., 179 Ramsay, 858 Burns, Jacobite, Bide ye yet, Billet by Jeany Gradden, Bonny Christy, Bonny laddie, Broom of the Cowdenknows, Busk ye, busk ye. Behind yon hills where Lugar flows, . . 118 Beneath a green shade I fand a fair maid, . 156 Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee^ dearie^ ; 180 Blyth, blyth, blyth was she, • . . 78 felythe, biythe, aroun' the nappy, * . 41 1 Blythe Jocky young and gay, . . . 356 Biythe was the time when he fee'd wi' my father, 0, 210 Blyth young Bess to Jean did say, . . 226 B»-aw, braw lads of Galla water, . . . 129 INDEX. Page 130 197 174 283 Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes, By Logan's streams that ran sae deep, . _ By smooth-winding Tay a swain was reclining, ; By yon castle wa'^ - i. * Ga' tlie ewes to the knowes, ^ . Burns^ 135 Caledonia, . . . Do. 270 Do. . W. Lockhart of Ed in., 387 Captain O'Kane, . . E. Gall, 389 Carl an' the king come, . Ramsay, Cauld kail in Aberdeen, . Old luords. Do. Duke ^ Oordon, 1785, Charlie he's my darling, Clout the cauldron, Come under my plaidie, Contented wi' little, - Corn rigs are bonny, Country lassie, Craigieburn Wood, Crookie Den, Culloden, 367 86 86 369 41 Jacobite, . T. T. 31. H. Macneill, 223 Burns, 331 Ramsay, 1 01 Burns, 126 Do., 180 . Jacobite, 299 W. Nicholson, 374 Jacobite, 300 Cumberland and Murray's descent. Published in Cromek's Eemains of Nithsdale Song probably written by Allan Cunningham, who con^ tributed to the collection. Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, Clarers and his JHighland men, . Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er. Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cry'd. Come let's hae mair wine in, • Comin thro' the craigs o' Kyle, Coming through the broom at e'en, Coup sent a challenge frae Dunbar, 265 302 367 82. 325 97 150 311 Donald Macdonald, Doun the burn, Davie, Drap o' cappie o', i Druken wife o' Galloway, Dumbarton drums, Duncan Davison i % J Hogg, 315 Col. Crawford, 136 56 E. C. ^8 . T. T. M. 120 t Burns, 63 VUl INDEX. Duncan Gray, - old words, Do. . . . Burns, Dear batclielour, I've read your billet, . Down in yon meadow a couple did tarie, Page 233 234 258 58 Ettrick banks, . Ewe-bughts, Marion, Fee him, faither, fee him. For a' that, For lack of gold. For the love of Jean, For the sake o' somebody. Do. Fareweel to auld Scotia, Farewell to Ayrshire, Farewell to Lochaber, . Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, First when Maggy was my care, Fy let us a' to the bridal, 130 133 T. T. M., Do. old song, 10 Burns, 311 Dr. Austin, 216 T. T. M. 166 old iDords, 170 Burns, VI '2, A. Bain, 385 Burns, 266 Ramsay, 193 284 72 29 G-ala water, Do. G-arb of Old Gaul, Get up an' bar the door, old words, 129 Burns, 130 . Sir Harry Ersldne, 270 another version of \ an old song in John- \ ao son' s Museum, titled, i *•' Johnie Blunt,'' j Gin e'er I'm in love, . . 248 Gloomy winter, . . TannaJiill, 152 Go to Berwick, Johnny, . 405 Green grow the rashes o', . , Burns, 247 Gude nicht and joy, . . 382 Gudewife, count the lawin, . Burns, 382 Gane is the day and mirk the night, . . 332 Gi'e me a lass wi' a lump of land, . , 125 Gin I had a wee house, and a canty wee fire, . 235 Gin living worth cou'd win my heart, . . 203 Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, . . . 185 Hand awa' frae mc, Donald, 154 INDEX. IX Hay's bonnie lassie, Here awa', there awa', Page Ramsay, 174 old words, 195 Do. . • Burns, 196 Here's a health to them that's awa', Jacobite, 382 Here's his health in water, . Do., 406 Here's to the king, sir, . ahout 1710, 313 Hey for a lass wi' a tocher, . Bimis, 120 Hey, how, Johnny, lad, . H. C, 338 Hey, Jenny, come doun to Jock, Do., 37 Hey tutti taiti, . altered by Emms, 333 Ramsay, 107 Do., Burns, Do. Highland laddie, Highland lassie. Highland laddie, Highland Mary, iSow lang and dreary, Harkelij and I will tell you how, . Have you any pots or pans, Hear me, ye nymphs, and ev'ry swain, Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, Hersell pe Highland shentleman, Honest man, John Ochiltree, llow blythe, ilk morn, was I to see, How sweet is the scene at the dawning o' morning, How sweetly smells the simmer green ! . I'm o'er young to marry yet, I carena for your e'en sae blue I had a horse, I hae a wife o' my ain, . 1 love my Jean, a 51 The ewie wi' the crookit horn, Rev. J. Skinner^ 87 The flowers of the forest. Miss J. Elliot, 1755, 273 The braes o' Ballochmylo, The braes o' Gleniffer, . The braw wooer, The bridal o't, The bush aboon Traquair, The cauldrife wooer, The chevalier's lament, The collier's bonnie lassie, The country lass. The day returns, The deil's awa' wi' the exciseman, The deuks dang o'er my daddie, ! Do. The gaberlunzie man, The gray cock. The haws o' Cromdale, The hawthorn, . The Highland laddie. The Highland lassie Mrs. Cochhurn, 274 . James V., 1 //. C. 140 364 396 279 183 J. Hamilton, Jacobite, Burns, The Highland widow's lament, ^ar%?/?/^Mr??5, 295 The humble beggar, The jolly beggars. The lammie. The land o' the leal, The lass o' Ballochmyle, The lass o' Gowrie, The lass o' Patie's mill. The lass that winna sit down, The lovely lass of Inverness, A. The lowlands of Holland, The maid that tends the goats, The mariner's wife. The mill, mill 0, The miller, Sh H. G. 6 . James V. 4 H. McNeill, 98 245 Burns, 390 137 Ramsay, 95 401 293 199 110 The Miller's daughter, Cunningliain, H. a W. Dudgeon, about 1771, 238 Ramsay, 156 /. Clerk of Penicuicic, 1751, 167 398 INDEX The pawky looii, the miller, The ploughman, . . H. C. The posie, . . . Burns, The rantin' dog the daddie o't, . Do. The rock and the wee pickle tow, Alex. Ross, The runawa' bride, The shepherd's son, The silken snooded lassie The siller crown, The soger laddie, The soger's return The step- daughter's relief, The Stuart's great line, The tailor, The toast, The waefu' heart, The weary pund o' tow. The wee thiniGf, previous to 1751, Page 834 236 173 76 66 38 11 150 Miss Blamyre, 191 Ramsay, 121 Burns, 157 Ramsay, 348 289 partly by Burns, 354 325 Miss Blamyre, 203 . T. T. M., 71 H. McNeill, 214 The wee, wee Grerman lairdie, old words, 290 Do. another version, ibid. The wee wifeikie, . Rev. Dr. Geddes, 77 The white cockade, published in 1776, 209 The widow, . . . Ramsay, 254 The wowing of Jok and Jyniij, 2niblished 1568, 19 The yellow-hair'd laddie, . old words, 132 Do. . . Ramsay, ibid The young laird and Edinburgh Katy, Do. 105 The young lass contra auld man. The young Maxwell, Then guidwife count the lawin, Theniel Menzies' Bonny Mary, There'll never be peace. This is no my ain lassie, Thou art gane awa', Tibbie Dunbar, Tibby Fowler, attributed to Rev. Dr. Strachan, 251 Tibbie, I hae seen the day, . Burns, 220 TT.M. 255 Jacobite, 297 Burns, 332 Do. 263 Do. 283 Do. 115 394 Burns, 247 XVlll INDEX. Page Todlen hame, . . . Ramsay j 60 To daunton me, . . Jacohite, 278 Tranent Muir, . . Adam Skirvmg, 306 Tullocligorum, . . Rev. J. Skinner, 82 Turnimspike, . . . H. C. SO Tweedside, . old v'ords hy Lord Tester, 102 Do. Patrick Craivfordof Aucliinames, 1731, ibid Twine weel the plaiden, . H. G. 232 The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout, . . 51 ~ .370 255 266 306 161 61 374 107 109 25 202 176 347 382 1 The bonniest lad that e'er I saw, The carl he cam o'er the craft, The Catrine woods were yellow seen. The Chevalier being void of fear. The collier has a daughter, The deil cam fiddling thro' the town, The heath-cock craw'd o'er muir and dale The Lawland lads think they are fine. The Lawland maids gang trig and fine, The meal was dear short syne, The moon had climb'd the highest hill, The morn was fair, saft was the air, The night her silent sable wore, . The night is my departing night, . The pawky auld carl cam o'er the lee. The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning, 286 The smiling morn, the breathing spring, . . 397 The spring-time re turns j and clothes the green plains, 149 The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomond, 117 The sun in the west fa's to rest in the e'enin', . 211 The sun raise sae rosy, the grey hills adorning, . 268 The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a', . 354 The widow can bake, and the widow can brew, . 254 Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, 270 There came a young man to my daddie's door, . 7 There's auld Rob Morris, that wins in yon glen, . 358 There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, (old words) . 85 There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, (by the Duke of Gordon) ...;.. 86 There liv'd a lass in Inverness, . . . 293 The liv'd a wife in our gate end, ... 55 There lives a lassie i' the braes, . . . 319 There was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound, 4 There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, . . 63 There was a shepherd's son, , . . 11 INDEX. XIX Page There was a wee bit wifeikie, was comin' frae the fair, 77 There was a wife won'd in a glen, There was an auld wife an' a wee pickle tow, There was anes a May, and she loo'd na men, There were three kings into the East, They say that Jockey'll speed weel o't, Thickest night o'erhang my dwelling. Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, 'Tis I have seven braw new gowns, 'Tis nae very laug sinsyne, 'Twas even — the dewy lields were green, 'Tv. as in that season of the year, 'Twas on a Monday morning, 'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, 197 Up in the morning early, jjartly hij Burns, 265 Up amahg yon cliffy rocks, . . . 110 Upon a simmer afternoon, . . .136 , 64 tow. 66 men, . 189 , 326 27 . 287 , 205 , 212 . 225 , 218 390 , 111 . 369 W. Glen of) 380 Wae's me for Prince Charlie, ■! q[^[^,J^^^\ Waly, waly up the bank, published in 1666, 229 Welcome, Charley Stuart, , 291 Y , . J ^^^ 1. > Lady Grissel Baillie, 189 Were thou but mine ain thing, 178 What ails the lasses at me, Alexander Ross, 256 When she cam ben she hohhQii, partly by Burns, 355 When I upon thy bosom lean, J. Lapraik, 244 Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad, Burns, 170 Whistle o'er the lave o't, . Do. 72 Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, . Do. 330 WiUie'srare, ... 393 Willy was a wanton wag, Wnu Walkinshaiv, 74 Woo'd and married and a', . old song, 32 1)0. . Alex. Ross, 259 Was ne'er in Scotland heard or seen, . . 413 Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray, . . . 233 Were I but able to rehearse, ... 87 XX INDEX. Page Were ye e'er at Crookie Den, . . . 299 Wha the deil hae we got for a king, . . 290 Wha wad na be in love, .... 61 Whare are you gaun, my bonny lass ? . . 352 Whare gang ye, thou silly auld carle, . . 297 Whar' ha'e ye been a' day, . . .371 Whar liae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy, . 98 Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad, . . 275 What ails this heart of mine, , . .391 What beauties does Flora disclose, . . 102 What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie, 45 What think ye o' the scornfu' quine, . . 401 When iirst I cam to be a man, ... 90 When I have a saxpence under my thumb, . 60 When I think on this Avarld's pelf, . . 323 When I was in my se'enteenth year, . . 264 When Maggy and I were acquaint, . . 102 When the sheep are in the fauld and the kye at hame, 200 When trees did bud, and fields were green, . 136 When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, . 157 Will ye gang o'er the lee-rig, . . . 151 Will ye go to the ewe-bughts, Marion, . ^ . 133 Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed, ... 52 Ye Jacobites by name, . ascribed to Barns^ 285 Young AUan, . . R. Gall, 211 Ye banks, and braes, and streams around, . 204 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, . . 228 Yestreen I had a pint o' wine, . . • l45 Young Jocky was the blythest lad, . . 112 Young Peggy's to the mill gane, . . . 334 You're welcome, Charley Stuart, . . .291 COLLECTIOISi OP ANCIENT AND MODERN SCOTTISH SONGS. THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. |Supposed to have been written by James V. on one of his intrigues.^ X HE pawky auld carl came o'er the lee, Wi' mony gude e'ens and days to me. Saying, Gude wife, for your courtesie. Will ye lodge a silly poor man ? The night was cauld, the carl was watj And down ayont the ingle he sat. My dochter's shouthers he 'gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. O wow ! quo' he, were I as free. As first when I saw this country. How blyth and merry wad I be ! And I wad never think lang. A He grew canty^ anJ she grew fain ; But little did her auld minny ken What thir slee twa together were say'ng,. When wooing they were sae thrang. And O ! quo* he, an ye were as black As e'er the crown o' your dady's hat, 'Tis I wad lay thee by my back. And awa wi' thee I wou'd gang. And O ! quo' she, an I were as white As e'er the snaw lay on the dike, I'd dead me braw and lady-like. And awa wi' thee I wou'd gang. Between the twa was made a plot ; They raise a wee before the cock. And wilily they shot the lock. And fast to the bent are they gane. Upon the morn the auld wife raise. And at her leisure pat on her claise ; Syne to the servant's bed she gaes. To speir for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed whar the beggar lay, The strae was cauld, he was away; She clapt her hands, cry'd, VValaday ! For some o' our gear will be gane. Some ran to coffers, and some to kists. But nought was stown that cou'd be mist ; She danc'd her lane, cry'd, Praise be blest ! I have lodg'd a leil poor man. Since naething's awa, as we can learn. The kirn's to kirn, and milk tcv earn, Gae butt the house, lass, and wauken my baiFU^ And bid her come quickly ben» 3: The servant gade where the daughter lay, The sheets were cauld, she was away,. And fast to her goodwife can say. She's aff wi' the gaberlunzie-man. * O fy gar^ ride, and fy gar rin, And haste ye find these traitors again ; For she's be burnt, and he's be slain. The wearifu* gaberlunzie-man. Some rade upo' horse, some ran a-fit. The wife was Avood, and out o' her wit ; She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit. But aye she curs'd and she bann'd. Mean time, far hind out o'er the lee, Fu' snug in a glen where nane could see, The twa, with kindly sport and glee. Cut frae a new cheese a whang : The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith. To lo'e her for aye, he gae her his aitli. Quo' she, To leave thee I will be laitb. My winsome gabejlunzie-maxj. O kend my minny I were wi* you, lU-fardly wad she crook her mou. Sic a poor man she'd never trow. After the gaberlunzie-man. My dear, quo' he, ye're yet o'er young. And ha' na learn'd the beggars' tongue. To follow me frae town to town. And carry the gaberlunzieon. Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread. And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentle tnide indeed. To cju'ry the gaberlunzie on. • A wallet-man or tinker, who appears to h^ve been formerly jack-of-all-trades. I'll bow my leg", and crook my knep. And draw a black clout o'er my eye, A cripple or blind they will ca' me. While we frhall be "merry, and sing. THE JOLLY BEGGxiR. [This song is also attributed to James V.] There wa.? a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound. And he took up his quarters into a land'art town. And we'll gang nae mair a rowing sae late into the nighty And we'll gang nae mair a roving, let the moon shine ne'er sac bright. And we'll gang nae mair a roving* He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre. But in ahint the ha' door, or else afore the fire. And we'll gang nae mair, &c. The beggar's bed was made at e'en, wi* good clean straw and hay, And in ahint the ha' door, and there the beggar lay. And well gang nae mair, &c. Up raise the goodman's dochter, and for to bar the door. And there she saw the beggar standin' i' the floor. And we'll gang nae mair, &c. He took the lassie in his arms, and to the bed he ran, O hooly, hooly wi' me, sir, ye'U waken our goodmnn. And we'll gang nae mair, &q. The beggar wa» a cunnin* loon, and ne'er a word he spak. Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack. And iie'll gang nae mair, &c. Is there ony dogs into this town ? maiden, tell me true. And what wad ye do wi' them, my hinny and my dowr And we'll gang nae mair, &c» They'll rive a' my rnealpocka, and do me meikle wrang, dool for the doing o't ! are ye the poor man ? And ivell gang nae mair, &c. Then she took up the mealpocks, and flang them o'er the wa'. The de'il gae wi' the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a'. And ivell gang nae mairj &c. 1 took ye fbr some gentleman, at least the laird of Brodie : O dool for the doing o't ! are ye the poor bodie ? And vje'll gang nae inair. See. He took the lassie in his arms, and gae her kisses three. And four-and-twenJby hunder merk to pay the nourice- fee. And well gang nae mair, &c. He took a horn frae hie side, and blew baith loud and shrill. And four-and-twenty-belted knights came skipping o'er the hill. And ivell gang nae mair, &c.. And he took out his little knife, loot a' his duddies fa'. And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a\ And well gang nae mair, &c. A3 The berr^ar was a cliver loon, and he lap sliouldo height, O aye for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight. And well gang nae mair, &c. '%%/VX%/V%^'«'%%'V THE HUMBLE BEGGAR. In Scotland there liv'd a humble beggar, He had neither house, nor hald, nor hame. But he was weel liked by ilka bodie. And they gae him sunkets to rax his wame. A nivefow of meal, a handfow of groats,^ A dadd of bannock, or herring brie, Cauld parradge, or the lickings of plates. Wad make him as blyth as a beggar could bo. This beggar he was a humble beggar. The feint a bit of pride had he. He wad a ta'en his a'ms in a bikker, Frae gentleman, or poor bodie. His wallets ahint and afore did hang, In as goocj order as wallets could be : A lang kail-gooly hang down by his side. And a meikle nowt-hom to rout on had lie. It happen'd ill, it happen'd warse. It happen'd see that he did die ; ^Vnd wha do ye think was at Iiis late-wake. But lads and lasses of a high degree. Some were blyth, and some were sad. And some they play'd at Blind Harrie : But suddenly up-started the auld carle, I redd ye, good folks, tak tent o' me. Up gat Kate that sat i' the nook. Vow kimmer, and how do ye ? Up he gat, and ca'd her limmer, And ruggit and tuggit her cockemonie. They houkit his gi'ave in Duket's kirk-yard. E'en far frae the companie : But when they were gaun to lay him i' the yird, The feint a dead nor dead was he. And when they brought him to Duket's kirk-yard. He dunted on the kist, the boards did flee : And when they were gaun to put him i' the yird. In fell the last, and out lap he. He cry'd, I'm cauld, I'm vmco cauld ; Fu' fast ran the fock, and fu' fast ran he : But he was first hame at his ain ingle side. And he helped to drink his ain dirgie. ■V^^'VW-*^* w^ THE CAULDRIFE WOOER. There came a young man to my daddie's door. My daddie's door, my daddie's door. There came a youn^ man to my daddie's door. Came seeking me to woo. B And wow hut he was a hraw young lad, A brisk young lady and a bratv young lad, And wow hut he was a hraw young lad, Cajue seeking me to woo. But I was baking when he came. When he came, when he came ; I took him in; and gae him a scone. To thow his frozen mou\ A?id wow hut J &c. I set him in aside the bink, I gae him bread and ale to drink, But ne'er a bly th styme wad he blink. Until his wame was fou. And wow hut, &c. Gae, get ye gone, ye cauldrife wooer. Ye sour-looking, cauldrife wooer : I straightway show'd him to the door. Saying, Come nae niair to woo. An4 won hut, &c. There lay a duck-dub before the door. Before the door, before the door. There lay a duck-dub before the door. And there fell he I trow. And wow but, &c. Out came the goodman, and high he shouted. Out came the goodwife, and low she louted. And a' tlie town neighbours were gather'di about it; But there lay he, I trow. And wow but, &c. Tlien out came I, and sneer'd, and smil'd. Ye came to woo, but ye're a' beguiVd ; Ye've fa'en i' the dirt, and ye're a' befyl'd. We'll hae nae mair o' you. And wow but, &c. • * LASS GIN YE LO*E ME. I iia'e laid a herring in sa*t. Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now ? I ha'e brew'd a forpet o' ma't. And I canna come ilka day to woo. I ha'e a calf will soon be a cow. Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now ? I ha'e a pig will soon be a sow. And I canna come ilka day to woo. I've a house on yonder moor. Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now ? Three sparrows may dance upon tlie floor. And I canna come ilka day to woo. I ha'e a butt and I ha'e a benn, Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now ? I ha'e three chickens and a fat hen. And I canna come ony mair to woo. I've a hen wi' a happity leg. Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now ? Which ilka day lays me an egg, And I canna conle ilka day to woo. I ha'e a kebbock upon my shelf. Lass gin ye lo'e me tak me now ! I downa eat it a' myself. And I winna come ony mair to woo. IQ FEE HIM, FATHEH, FEE HIM. [*« This song, for genuine humouf in the verses, and lively origi- nality in the air, is unparalleled. I take it to be very old."— Burns.] Saw ye Johnnie cummin, quo' she, Saw ye Johnnie cummin ; O saw ye Johnnie cummin, quo' she. Saw ye Johnnie cummin ; Saw ye Johnnie cummin, quo* she. Saw ye Johnnie cummin, Wi' his blue bonnet on his head. And his doggie rinnin, quo' she. And his doggie rinnin? Fee him, father, fee him, quo' she. Fee him, father, fee him ; fee him, father, fee him, quo' she. Fee him, father, fee him ; For he is a gallant lad. And a weel doin, quo' slie ; And a' the wark about the house Gaes wi' me when I see him, quo' she, Gaes wi' me when I see him. What will I do wi' him ? quo' he. What will I do wi' him ? He's ne'er a sark upon his back. And I hae nane to gi'e him. 1 hae twa sajtks^ into my kist. And ane o' them I'U gie him ; And for a merk of mair fee, Dinna stand wi' him, quo' she. Pinna stand wi' him. 11 For well do I lo'e him, quo' she^ Well do I lo'e him ; For weel do I lo'e him, quo' she, Weel do I lo'e him. O fee him, father, fee him, quo' she, Fee him, father, fee him ; He'll had the pleugh,, thrash in the bam^ And crack wi' me at e'en, quo' she. And crack wi* me at :e'en. THE shepherd's SOX. There was a shepherd's son, < Kept sheep upon a hill, He laid his pipe and crook aside. And there he slept his fill. Sing, Jill deral, &c. He looked east, he looked west. Then gave an under look. And there he spy'd a lady fair. Swimming in a brook. Singffal deraly &c. He rais'd his head frae his greeti hed. And then approach'd the maid. Put on your claise, my 4ear, he says. And be ye not afraid. Sing/faX deral, &c. IS 'Tis fitter for a lady fair To sew her silken seam. Than to get up in a May morning, And strive against the stream. Sing,fal deral, &c. If you'll not touch my mantle. And let my claise alane. Then I'll gi'e you as much money As you can carry hame. Singjfal deral, &c. O ! I'll not touch your mantle. And I'll let your claise alane ; But I'll tak you out of the clear water. My dear to be my ain. Sing, Jul deral, &c. And when she out of the water came. He took her in his arms ; Put on your claise, my dear, he says. And hide those lovely charms. Singyfal deral, &c. He mounted her on a milk-white steed. Himself upon anither. And all along the way they rode. Like sister and like brither. Singjfal deral, &c. When she came to her father's yett, She tirled at the pin ; And ready stood the porter there. To let this fair maid in. Sing, fat deral, &c. ]3 And when the gate was opened. So nimbly she whipt in ; Pough ! You're a fool without, she says, And I'm a maid within. Sing, fid dcral, &c. Then fare ye weel, my modest boy, I thank you for your care ; But had you done what you should done, I ne'er had left you there. Sing,fal deralj &c. Oh ! I'll cast aff my hose and shoon. And let my feet gae bare, And gin I meet a bonny lass. Hang me, if her I spare. Sing,fal deral, &c. In that do as you please, she saj?^ But you shall never more Have the same opportunity : With that she shut the door. Sing,fal deralj Sec. There is a gude auld proverb, I've often heard it told, ^' He that would not, when he might, He should not when he would." >%i??g,fal deral, &c. 14 SCORNFU' XANSY. Nansy's to the green-wood ganc. To hear the gowdspink chatt'ring. And Willie he has followed her. To gain her love by flatt'ring : But a' that he cou'd say or do. She geck'd and scorned at him ; And ay when he began to woo. She bid him mind wha gat him. What ails ye at my dad, quoth he. My minny or my aunty ? With crowdy-mowdy they fed me, Lang-kail and ranty-tanty : With bannocks of good barley-meal. Of thae there was right plenty. With chapped stocks fu* butter'd well ; And was na that right dainty ? Although ray father was iiae laird, 'Tis daffin to be vaunty, He keepit ay a good kail-yard, A ha' house and a pantry : A good blue bonnet on his head. An ourlay 'bout his craggy ; And ay until the day he dy'd. He rade on good shanks naggy. Now wae ajid wonder on your snout^ Wad ye hae bonny Nansy ? W^ad ye compare ye'rsell to me, A dockeu till a tansy ? 15 I have a wooer of my ain. They ca' him souple Sandy^, And well I wat his bonny mou' Is sweet hke sugar-candy. Wow, Nansy ! what needs a' this din^ Do I not ken this Sandy ? I'm sure the chief of a' his kin. Was Rab the beggar randy : His minny, Meg, upo' her back. Bare baith him and his billy ; Will ye compare a nasty pack To me, your winsome Willy ? My gutcher left a gude braid sword, • Tho' it be auld and rust}'^. Yet ye may tak it on my word. It is baith stout and trusty : And if I can but get it drawn. Which will be right uneasy, I shall lay baith my lugs in pawn. That he shall get a heezy. Then Nansy tum'd her round about^ And said. Did Sandy hear ye. Ye wadna miss to get a clout ; I ken he disna fear ye : Sae had ye'r tongue and say nae mair^, Set somewhere else your fancy ; For as lang's Sandy's to the fore. Ye never shall get Nansy. IG NAE DOMINIES FOR ME. As ^ went forth to take the ah*. Into an evening clear,, laddie, I met a brisk young handsome spark, A new-made pulpitier, laddie : An airy blade so brisk and bra'. Mine eyes did never see, laddie ; A long cravat at him did wag. His hose girt 'boon the knee, laddie. By-and-outo'er this young man had, A gallant douse black gown, laddie. With cock'd up hat, and powder'd wig. Black coat, and muffs fu' clean, laddie. At length he did approach me nigh. And bowing down full low, laddie ; He grasp'd me, as I did pass by. And would not let rae go, laddie. Said I, Pray, friend, what do you mean ? Canst thou not let me be, laddie ? Says he. My heart, by Cupid's dart. Is captive mito thee, lassie. I'll rather chuse to thole grim death ,\ So cease and let me be, laddie. For what ? siiid he. — Good troth, said she, Nae dominies for rae, laddie. Ministers' stipends are uncertain rents For ladies' conjunct fee, laddie; When books and gowns are all cry'd down, Nae dominies for me, laddie. 17 But for your sake TU fleece the flock. Grow rich as I grow auld, lassie ; If I be spar'd, I'll be a laird^ And thou be Madam calFd^ lassie. But wdiat if ye shoukl chance to die. Leave bairns ane or twa, laddie ? Naething would be reserv'd for them, But hair-mould books to gnaw, laddie. At this he angry was, I wat. He gloom'd and look'd fu' hie, laddie ; When I perceived this, in haste I left my dominie, laddie. Then I went hame to my step-dame. By this time it was late, laddie ; But she before had barr*d the door, I blush'd and look'd fu' blate, laddie. Thinks I, I must ly in the street. Is there no room for me, laddie ; And is there neither plaid nor sheet With my young dominie, laddie ? Then with a humble voice, I cry'd. Pray open the door to me, laddie : But he reply 'd, I'm gone to bed. So cease, and let me be, lassie. The sooner that you let me in. You'll be the more at ease, laddie ; And on the morrow I'll be gone,. Then maiTy whom you please, laddie. And what if I should chance to die. Leave bairns ane or twa, lassie, Naething would be reserv'd for them. But hair-raould books to gna', lassie, b3 IS Ministers' stipends are uncertain rents For ladies' conjdnct-fee, lassie; When books and go^vns are a' cry'd down. • Nae dominies for thee, lassie. So fare you well, ray charming maid. This lesson learn of rae, lassie. At the next offer hold him fast That first makes love to thee, lassie. Then did I curse my doleful fate. Gin this had been my lot, laddie. For to have match'd with such as you, A good-for-nothing sot, laddie. Then I returned hame again,^ And coming down the town, laddiC;, By my good luck I chanc'd to meet A gentleman dragoon, laddie : And lie took me by baith the hands, 'Twas help in time of need, laddie i Fools on ceremonies standi At twa words we agreed, laddie. He led me to his quarter-house. Where we exchang'd a word, laddie ; We had nae use for black-gowns there, W^e marry'd o'er the sword, laddie. Martial drums is music fine, Compar'd wi' tinkling bells, laddie ; Gold, red, and blue, is more divine Than black, the hue of hell, laddie. Kings, queens, and princes, a^ve the aid Of the brave stout dragoons, laddie ; While dominies are much employ 'd 'Bout whores and sackcloth gowns, laddi( 19 Awa' then \vi' these whining lowns, They look like let me be, laddie ; I've mair delight in roaring guns : Nae dominies for me, laddie. ■%-%%•-% % '%-«/^'W% -% THE WOWING OF JOK AND JYNNY [This song is preserved in the Bannatyne MS. and consec[uently was written previoxis to 1568.1 Robeyn's Jok came to wow our Jynny, On our feist-evin qulien we were fow ; Scho brankit fast and maid hir bony. And said, Jok, come ye for to wow ? Scho burneist hir baith breist and broAV, And maid her cleir as ony clok ; Then spak hir dame, and said, I trow. Ye come to wow our Jynny, Jok. Jok said, Foreuth I zern full fane, To luk my heid, and sit doun by zow. Than spak hir modir, and said agane. My bairne lies tocher gud annwch to ge zow Te he ! quoth Jynny, keik, keik, I se zow ; Muder, yone man maks zow a mok. I schro the lyar, full leLs me zow, I come to wow zour Jynny, quoth Jok, 20 My berne, scho sayis, hes of hir awin, Ane guss, aiie gryce, ane cok, ane hen, Ane calf, ane hog, ane futbraid sawin, Ane kirn, ane pin, tliat ze Aveill ken,. Ane pig, ane pot, ane raip thair-ben, Ane fork, ane flaik, ane r^ill, ane rok, Dischis and dublaris nyne or ten ; Come ze to wow our Jynny, Jok ? Ane blanket, and ane wecht also, Ane schule, ane scheit, and ane lang flail, Ane ark, ane almry, and laidills two, Ane milk-syth, with ane swyne-taill, Ane rowsty quhittill to scheir the kaill, Ane qiiheill, ane mell the beir to knok, Ane coig, ane caird wantand ane naill : Come ze to wow our Jynny, Jok ? Ane furme, ane furlet, ane pott, ane pek, Ane tub, ane barrow, with ane quheilbancl, Ane turs, ane troch, and ane meil-sek, Ane spurtil braid, and ane elwarid. Jok tuk Jynny be the hand. And cry'd, Ane feast ! and slew ane cok. And maid a brydell up alland : Now haif I gottin your Jynny, quoth Jok. Now, deme, I haif zour baime mareit ; Suppois ye mak it nevir sa twche, I latt zou wit schois nocht miskarrit. It is weii! kend gud haif I annwch : Ane Crukit gleyd fpll our ane huch, Ane spaid, ane speit, ane spur, ane sok, Withouttin oxin I haif a pluche. To gang togiddir Jynny and Jok. 21 I haif ane lielter, and eik ane hek, Ane cord, ane creill, and als an cradill, Fy ve fidder of raggis to stuff ane jak, Ane aukl pannell of ane laid sadill, Ane pepper polk maid of a paddell, Ane spounge, ane spindill wantand ane nok, Twa lusty lippis to lik ane laiddill. To gang togidder Jynny and Jok. Ane brechame, and twa brochis fyne, Weill buklit witli a brydill renze, Ane sark maid of the Linkome twyne, Ane gay grene cloke that will nocht stenze, And zit for mister I will nocht fenze, Fyve hundrith fleis now in a flok; Call ze nocht that ane joly menze^ To gang togidder Jynny and Jok ? Ane trene truncheour, ane raraehome spon6, Twa buttis of barkit blasnit ledder. All graith that gains to kobbill schone, Ane thrawcruk to twyne ane tedder, Ane brydill, ane girth, and ane swyne bledder, Ane maskene fatt, ane fetterit lok, Ane scheip weill kepit fra ill wedder. To gang togiddir Jynny and Jok. Tak thair for my parte of the feist ; It is Weill knawin I am weill bodin ; Ze may nocht say my parte is leist. The wyfe said, Speid, the kaill ar soddin. And als the laverok is fust and loddin ; Quhen ze haif done tak hame the brok. The rost was twche, sa wer thay bodin ; Syn gaid togiddir Jynny and Jok, 2^ MUIULAND WILLIE. Harken, and I will tell )^e how Young Muirlapd Willie came to woo, Though he could neither say nor do. The truth I tell to you. But aye he cries, A\'hate'er betide, Maggy I'se hae to be my bride. With a fed dal, &c. On his gray yade as he did ride. With durk and pistol by his side. He prick'd her on wi' nieikle prido, Wi' meikle mirth and glee. Out o'er yon moss, out o'er yon muir. Till he came to her ditddy's door. WitJi a fed dal, &c. Goodman, quoth he, be ye within, I'm come your doghter's love to win, I care na for making meikle din ; What answer gi'e ye me ? Now, wooer, quoth he, would ye light down, I'll fri'e ye my doghter's love to win : ^ lllthafaldal, &c. Now, wooer, sin ye are lighted down, W^here do you win, or in what town? I think my doghter winna gloom. On sic a lad as ye. The wooer he stept up the house, And wow but he was wond'rous crouic. With a fat dal, &c. 23 I have three owsen in a pie ugh, Twa glide ga'en yads, and gear enough ; The place they ca' it Cadeneugh ; I scorn to tell a lie : Besides, I hae frae the great laird,- A peat-pat, and a lang-kail-yard. With afal dal, &c. The maid pat on her kirtle brown. She was the brawest in a' the town ; I wat on him she did na gloom. But blinkit bonnihe. The lover he stendit up in haste. And gript her hard about the waist ; With afal dal, &c. To win your love, maid, I'm come here ; I'm young, and hae enough o' gear ; And for mysell you need na fear. Troth try me whan ye like. He took afF his bannet, and spat in his chew. He dighted his gab, and he prie'd her mou'. With afal dal, &c. The maiden blush'd and bing'd fa' law. She had na will to say him na. But to her daddy she left it a'. As they twa could agree. The lover ga'e her the tither kiss ; Syne ran to her daddy, and tell'd him this. With afal dal, &c. Your doghter wad na say me na. As to yoursell she has left it a'. As we could 'gree between us twa ; Say, what'll ye gi'e me wi' her ? 24 Now, wooer, quo** he, I ha'e na meikle^ But sic's I ha'e ye's get a pickk. With afal dal, &c. A kilnfu o' com 111 gi'e to thee. Three soums of sheep, twa good milk kye, Ye's ha'e the wedding-dinner free : Troth I dow do na mair. Content, quo' he, a bargain be't ; I'm far frae hame, make haste let's do^t. With afal dal, &c. The bridal day it came to pass, Wi' mony a blithsome lad and lass ; But sicken a day there neyer was^ Sic mirth was never seen. This winsome couple straked hands. Mess John ty'd up the marriage-bands. With afal dal, &c. And our bride's maidens were na few, Wi' tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blew, Frae tap to tae they were braw new. And bHnkit bonnilie : Their toys and nmtches were sae clean. They glanced in our ladses' een. With afal dul, &c. Sic hirdum dirdum, and «ic drn, Wi' he o'er her, and she o'er liim ; The minstrels they did never blin, Wi' mcikle mirth and glee. And ay they bobit, and ay they beckt. And ay their wames together met. With afal dal, &c. S5 MAGIE'S TOCHER. The meal was dear short syne. We buckled us a' the gither ; And Maggie was in her prime. When Willie made courtship till her. Twa pistols charg d beguess. To gi'e the courting-shot. And syne cam.e ben the lass Wi' swats drawn frae the butt. He first speer'd at the guidman. And syne at Giles the mither. An ye wad gie's a bit land. We'd buckle us e'en the gither. My doughter ye shall hae, I'll gi'e ye her by the hand ; But rii part wi' my wife, by my fay. Or I part wi' my land. Your tocher it sail be good^ There's nane sail hae its maik. The lass bound in her snood. And Crummie wha kens her stake ; With an auld bedding o' claiths. Was left me by my mither. They're jet black o'er wi' fleas^ Ye may cuddle in them the gither. Ye speak right weel, guidman. But ye maun mend your hand^ And think o' modesty. Gin ye'll not quat your land. 2G We are but young, ye ken. And now we're gami the gither, A house is butt and ben. And Crummie will want her fother; The bairns are coming on. And they'll cry, O their mither I We have nouther pat nor pan. But four bare legs the gither. Your tocher's be good enough. For that ye need nae fear, Twa good stilts to the pleugh. And ye yourseli maun steer : Ye siiU hae twa good pocks That ance were of the tweel. The tane to had tlie grots. The tither to had the meal : With an auld kist made of wande. And that sail be your coffer, Wi' aiken woody bands, And that may had }'our toclier. Consider well, guidman. We hae but borrow 'd gear. The horse that I ride on Is Sandy Wilson's mare : The saddle's nane of my ain. And thae's but borrow'd boots. And when that I gae hame, I maun tak to my koots ; "The cloak is Geordy Watt's, That gars me look sae crouee ; . Come, fill us a cogue of swats. We'll raak nae mair toom rooiSe. 27 I like you -vveel, young lad. For telling me sae plain, I married when little I had O' gear that was my ain : But sin that things are sae. The bride she maun come fcH'tl?, Tho' a' the gear she'll hae It'll be but little worth. A bargain it maun be, Fy, cry on Giles the mither : Content am I, quo' she. E'en gar the hissie come hither. The- bride she gade till her bed. The bridegroom he cam till her ; The fiddler crap in at the fit. And they cuddl'd it a' the gither. THE BRIDAL O T. [By Mr Alex. Ross, late schodiBQaster at Lochlsc, aucl £.uthor r,{ The Fortunate Shepherdess.'] Tune — Lmif Camphell. Tkey say that Jockey '11 speed weel o't. They say that Jockey '11 speed wcel o't. For he grows brawer ilka day, I hope we'll hae a bridal o't. For yesternight nae farder gane. The back house at the side wa'"o% . He there wi' Meg was mirden seen, I Iippe we'll hae a bridal o't. 28 An we had but a bridal o% An we had but a bridal o't, We'd leave the rest unto gude luck Altho' there should betide ill o't: For bridal days are meny times. And young folks like the coming o't. And scribblers tliey bang up their rhymes. And pipers they the bumming o't. The lasses like a bridal 0% Tlie lasses like a bridal o't, Their braws maun be in rank and file Altho' that they should guide ill o't: Tile boddom o' the kist is then Turn'd up unto the immost o't, Tlie end that held the keeks sae clean Is now become the teemest o't. The bangster at the threshing o't. The bangster at the threshing o't. Afore it conies is iidgin fain And ilka day's a clashing o't ; He'll sail his jerkin for a groat. His linder for anither o't. And e'er he want to clear his shot. His sark'll pay the tither o't. The pipers and the fiddlers o't. The pipers and tho fiddlers o't. Can smell a bridal unco far, And like to be the middlers o't : Fan thick and threefald they convene Ilk ane envies the tither o't. And wishes nane but him alane Mnv ever see anither o't. 29 Fan they hae done wi' eating o't^ Fan they hae done wi' eating 6'X, For dancing they gae to the greeir. And aibhns to the beating o't : He dances best that dances fest. And loups at ilka reesing o% And claps his liands frae hough to hough, And furls about the feezings o't. THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL. JTliis song is in "Watson's collection of Scotch poems, printed at Edinburgh in 170G.] rx let us a' to the bridal. For there will be lilting there ; For Jocky's to be married to Maggy, The lass wi' the gowden hair. And there wiU be lang-kail and pottage. And bannocks ©f barley-meal ; And there will be good sawt hen'ing; To relish a cog of good ale.. Fy let us a' to the bridal. For there wiR he tilting there ; For Jocky's to be married to Maggy, The lass wi' the gowden hair. And there will be' Sawney the sutor. And Will wi' the meikle mou' ; And there will be Tam the blutter, "With Andrew the tinkler, I trow ; . c 3 30 AikI there -will be bow'd-legged Robie, With thnmbless Katie's goodman; And there will bhie-cheelved Dobie, And Lawrie the laird of the land. Fy let uSj &c. And there will be sow-libber Patie, And pluck y-fac'd Wat i' the mill. Capper- nos'd Francie and Gibbie, That wing i' the how of the hill ; And there will be Alaster Sibby, Wha in wi' black Bessy did mool^ With snivelling Lilly and Tibby, The lass that stands aft on the stool. Fy let usy &c. And Madge that was biickVd to Steenic^ And coft him grey breeks to his a— e. Wha after was hangit for stealing, Great mercy it happen'd nae warse : And there will be gleed Geordy Janners, And Kirsh with the lily-white leg, Wha gade to the south for manners, And bang'd up her wame in Mons-Meg Fy let us, &c. And there wijl be Judan Maclawrie, And blinkin daft Barbara Macleg, Wi' flea-lugged sharney-fac'd Lawrie, And shangy-mou'd halncket Meg : And there will be happer a — 'd Nansy. And fairy-fac'd Florie by name. Muck Madie, and fat-hippit Girsy, The lass wi' the gowden wame, Fi/ lef us, &c. 31 And there will be girn-again Gibbie, With his glaikit wife Jeany Bell, And misle-shinn'd Mungo Macapie, The lad that was skipper himsel. The lads and lasses in pearlings. Will feast in the heart of the ha'. On sybows, and rifarts, and carlings. That are baith sodden and raw. Fy let us, &c. And there will be fadges and brachan. With fouth of good gabbocks of skate, Powsowdy, and drammock, and crowdy. And caller nowt-feet in a plate. And there will be partans and buckies. And whytens and speldings enew. With singit sheep-heads, and a haggies, • And scadlips to sup till ye spew. Fi/ let us, &c. And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks. And sowens, and farles, and baps, W^ith swats, and well-scraped paunches. And brandy in stoups and in caps: And there will be meal-kail and castocks^ With skink to sup till ye rive. And roasts to roast on a brander. Of flowks that were taken alive. Fy let ys, &c. iScrapt haddocks, wilks, dulse and tangle, And a mill of good snishing to prie ; When weary with eating and drinking. We'll rise up and dance till we die : Thenfy let us a' to the bridal ,^ For there will be lilting there. For Jocky's to be married to Maggy, The lass wi' the gowden hair. 32 WOO'D and MAllRIED AND a'. TVoo'd and married and a', Woo'd a7id married and a', Was she nae very rveel aff Was rvodd and married and a*. The bride came out o' the byre, And O as she dighted her cheeks. Sirs, I'm to be married the night. And has neither blankets nor sheets. Has neither blankets nor sheets. Nor scarce a coverlet too ; The bride that has a' to borrow. Has e'en right meikle ado. Woo'd and married, S:c. Out spake the bride's father. As he came in frae the plough, had your tongue, my dough ter. And ye's get gear enough ; The stirk that stands i* the tether. And our bra' basin'd yade. Will carry ye hame your corn. What wad ye be at, ye jade ? Woo'd and married, &c. Out spake the bride's mither. What deil needs a' this pride ! 1 had nae a plack in my pouch That night I was a bride ; My gown was linsy-woolsy. And ne'er a sark ava ; And ye hac ribbons and buskins, Mae than ane or twa. Woo'd and married f Ac. 33 What's the matter ? quo' Willie, Tho' we be scant o' claise. We'll creep the nearer thegither. And we'U smore a' the neas : Simmer is coming on. And we'll get teats of woo ; And we'll get a lass o' our ain. And she'll spin claise enew., Woo'd and marriedj &c. Out spake the bride's brither. As he came in wi' the kie ; Poor Willie had ne'er a ta'en ye. Had he kent ye as weel as I ; For you're baith proud and saucy. And no for a poor man's wife ; Gin I canna get a better, Ise never tak ane i' my life. Wood and married, &c. Out spake the bride's sister. As she came in frae the byre, gin I were but married. It's a' that I desire ; But we poor fo'k maun live single. And do the best we can ; 1 dinna carp what I should want. If I CQuld get but a man. Wood and married, &c» 34 TATIE'S WEDDING. As Patie came up frae the glen. Driving his wethers before him. He met bonnie Me^ ganging hame. Her beauty was like for to smore him. dinna ye ken, bonnie Meg, That you and I's gaen to be married; 1 ratlier had broken my leg Before sic a bargain miscarried. Na, Patie, — O wha*B telVd you that ? I think that of news they've been scanty. That I should be married so soon, , Or yet should hae been sae flajity : I winna be married the year. Suppose I were courted by twenty ; Sae, Patie, ye need nae mair speer. For weel a wat I dinna want ye. Now, Meggie, what maks ye sae swear, Is't cause that I hae na a raaillin. The lad that has jjlenty o' gear. Need ne'er want a half or a haill ane ; My dud has a glide gray mare. And yours lius twa cx>ws and a filly ; And that will be plenty o' gear, Sae, Maggie, be no sae ill-willy. Indeed, Patie, I dinna ken. But first ye maun speer at my daddy ; You're as well born as Ben, And I canua say but I'm ready : 35 There's plenty o' yarn in clxxesj To make me a. coat and a jimpy. And plaiden enough to be trews, Gif ye get it, I shanna scrimp ye. Now fair fa' ye, my bonny Meg, I'se let a wee smacky fa' on you ; May my neck be as lang as my leg. If I be an ill husband unto you ; Sae gang your way hame e'now. Make ready gin this day fifteen days. And tell your father the news. That I'll be his son in great kindness. It was nae lang after that, Wha came to our bigging but Patie, Weel drest in a braw new coat. And wow but he thought himself pretty ; His bannet was little frae new. In it was a loop and a slitty * To tie in a ribbon sae blue. To bab at the neck o' his coaty. Then Patie came in wi' a stend. Said, Peace be here to the bigging ! You're welcome, quo' William, come ben^ Or I wish it may rive frae the rigging : Now draw in your chair and sit down. And tell's a' your news in a hurry ; And haste ye, Meg, and be done. And hing on the pan wi' the berrj-. Quoth Patie, My news is nae thrang, * Yestreen I was wi' his Honour ; I've ta'en three riggs of bra' land. And hae bound mysel under a bonour ; 36 AikI now my errand to you Is for Meggy to help me to labour; I think you maun gie's the best cow^, Because that our hacldin's but sober. Well, now for to help you through, I'll be at the cost of the bridal ; I'se cut the craig of the ewe That had amaist died of the side-ill. And that'll be plenty of bree, Sae lang as our well is nae reisted. To all the good neighbours and we, And I think we'll no be that ill feasted. Quoth Patie, O that'll do well^ And I'll gie you your brose in the morning> O' kail that was made yestreen. For I like them best in the forenoon. Sae Tam the piper did play. And ilka ane danc'd that was willing. And a' the lave they ranked through. And they held the stoupy ay filling. The auld wives sat and they chew'd. And when that the carles grew nappy. They danc'd as weel as they dow'd, Wi' a crack o' their thumbs and a kappie. The lad that wore the white band, I think tliey cau'd him Jamie Mather ; And he took the bride by the hand. And cry'd to play up Maggie Laudei*. HEY, JENNY, COME DOWN TO JOCK. JocKY he came here to woo. On ae feast-day when w« were fu' ; And Jenny pat on her best aiTay, When she heard Jocky was come that way. Jenny she gaed up the stair, Sae privily to change her smock ; And ay sae loud as her mother did rair. Hey, Jenny, come down to Jock. Jenny she came down the stair. And she came bobbin and bakin ben ; Her stays they were lac'd, and her waist it was jimp; And a bra' new-made manco gown. Jocky took her by the hand, O Jenny, can ye fancy me ? My father is dead, and he'as left me some lanJ, And bra' houses twa or three ; And I will gi'e them a' to thee. A haith, quo' Jenny, I fear you mock ! Then foul fa' me gin I scorn thee ; If ye'll be my Jenny, I'll be your Jock. Jenny lookit, and syne she leugh. Ye first maun get my mither's consent. A weel, goodwife, and what say ye ? Quo' she, Jocky, I'm weel content. D 38 Jenny to her raither did say, mither, fetch us some good meat ; A piece o' the butter was kirn'd the day. That Jocky and I thegither may eat. Jocky unto Jenny did say, Jenny, my dear, I want nae meat ; It was nae for meat that I came here. But a' for the love of you, Jenny, my dear. Then Jocky and Jenny were led to their bed> And Jocky he lay neist the stock. And five or six times ere break of day. He ask'd at Jenny how she lik'd Jock. Quo' Jenny, dear Jock, you gi'e me content, 1 bless my mither for gi'eing consent : And on the next morning, before the first cock. Our Jenny did cry, I dearly love Jock. Jenny she gaed up the gait, Wi' a green gown as side as her smock ; And ay sae loud as her mither did rair, VoWj sirs, has nae Jenny got Jock ! THE IlINAWA' BRIDE. A LADDIE and a lassie Dwelt in the south countrie. And they hae cassen their claise thegither^ And married they wad be. The bridal day was set, On Tiseday for to be ; Then hey play up the rinawa' bride. For she has ta'en the gee. 39 The bridegroom hiigg'd and kiss'd her> And pressed her to Mess John ; But she's run awa', and left him To face the priest alone. From town to town they sought her. But found she cou'd na be : Then hey jAay up, &c. Her father and her raithei*~ Ran after her wi' speedy And ay they ran until they came Unto the water of Tweed ; And when they came to Kelso town? • They gart the clap gae thro'. Saw ye a lass wi' a hood and a mantle. The face o't lin'd up wi' blue; The face o't lin'd up wi' blue^ And the tail lin'd up wi' green, Saw ye a lass wi' a hood and a mantle, Shou'd been married on Tiseday te'en ? With red stockings on her legs, Tv/a coal-black blinkin' een ; Saw ye a lass wi' a hood and a mantle, Shou'd been married on Tiseday te'en ? When that she was a- wanting. And could not be found at all. The bridegroom screech'd and tore himsel'i Crying, his joy and only all ; Since she has gone and left me3 Alas ! for her I must die ! Then hey play up, &c. Now wally fu' fa' the silly bridegroom^ He was as saft as. butter; 40 For had she play'd the like to me, I had nae sae easily quit her ; I'd gi'en her a tune o' my hoboyj And set my fancy free ; And syne play'd up our rinawa' bridC;, And lutten her tak the gee. If he had but allowed her To've come to hersel' again. He needed not to have ru'd her. To ease him of his pain : For if that he had been easy. She'd been more keener tlian he ; Then hey play up, &c. She had nae run a mile or twa. When she began to consider. The ang'ring of her father dear. The displeasing o' her mitlier. The slighting of the silly bridegroom* The best o' a' the three ; Then heij play np, &c. The bride's best maid was grieved To hear the bridegroom cry ; And so merrily as she cheer'd him. What think ye of you and I ? Let's join our hand* right frankly^ And wedded we will be ; And let Meg Dorts go belt hersel'. Since she has ta'en the gee. So, soon Mess John was sent for To tie up the marriage-bands ; When tlie saucy bride she heard it. She screech'd and clapp'd her hands : 41 But the bridegroom mock'd and jeer'd her Saying, You've come too late for me ; Go tell your father and mother How I can cure the gee^ CLOUT THE CALDRON. [This song is supposed to have been composed on an amour of one of the Kenmure family in the Cavalier times. The air was such a favourite with the second Bishop Chishohii of Dum- blane, that he used to say, that if he were going to be hanged, nothing would sooth his mind so much by the way as to hear it played.] Ha\e you any pots or pans. Or any broken chandlers ? I am a tinker to my trade. And newly come from Flanders, As scant of siller as of grace. Disbanded we've a bad run ; Gar tell the lady of the place, I'm come to clout her caldron. Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c. Madam, if you have "Wark for me, I'll do't to your contentment. And dinna care a single flie For any man's resentment ; For, lady fair, though I appear To ev'ry ane a tinker, ♦ Yet, to yoursel, I'm bauld to tell, I am a gentle j inker. Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c. V n Love Jupiter into a swan Turn'd l^r his lovely Leda; He like a bull o'er meadows ran, To cany aff' Europa. Then may not I, as well as ho. To cheat your Argos blinker. And win your love, like mighty Jove, Thus hide me in a tinker. Fa adricj didk, didle, &c. Sir, ye appear a cunning man. But tliis fine plot you'll fail in. For there is neither pot nor pan Of mine you'll drive a nail in. Then bind your budget on your back. And nails up in your apron. For I've a tinker under tack That's us'd to clout my caldron. Fa adricj didle, didle, &c. •»^-wv»-w%.-fc-v%^ I HAP A HORSE. l" This story was founded on fact. A John Hunter, ancestor to a very respectable farming family who live in a place in the pa- rish, I think, of Galston, called Barr-mill, was the luckless hero that ' had a horse and had nae mair.' — For some little youthful follies he found it necessary to make a retreat to the West Highlands, where » he fee'd himself to a Highlandltiini,^ for that is the expression of aU tlie oral editions of the song I ever heard The present Mr Hunter, wlio told me the anec- dote, is the great-grandchild to our hero."— Buuns.] 1 HAD a horse, and I had nae mair, I gat him frae niy daddy ; My purse was light, and my heart was sah% But my wit it was fu' ready. 43 And sae I thought upon a wile, Outwittens o' my daddy, To fee mysell to a Lawland laird. Who had a bonny lady. I wrote a letter, and thus began. Madam, be not offended, I'm o'er the lugs in love wi' you. And care nae tho' ye kend it : For I get little frae the laird. And far less frae my daddy. And I would blythly be the man Would strive to please my lady. She read my letter, and she leuch. Ye need na been sae blate, man ; You might hae come to me yoursell. And tald me o' your state, man : You might hae come to me yoursell, Outwittens o* yoiu- daddy. And made John Goukston o' the laird. And kiss'd his bonny lady. Then she pat siller in my purse, W^e drank wine in a cogie ; She fee'd a man to rub my horse. And wow but I was vogie ; But I gat ne'er sae sair a fleg Since I came frae ray daddy. The laird came tap, rap, to the yett^ When I was wi' his lady. Then she pat me below a chair. And happ'd me wi' a plaidie; But I was like to swarf wi' fear. And wish'd me wi' my daddy. 44 The laird went out, he saw nae me., I went when I was ready : I promis'd, but I ne'er gaed back^ To see his bonny lady. MY JO JANET. Sweet sir, for your courtesie. When ye come by the Bass then^ For the love ye bear to me. Buy me a keeking-glass then. Keek into the dtaw-well, Janet, Janet; And there ye'H see your bonny sell. My jo Janet. Keeking in the draw-well clear. What if I should fa' in, sir. Syne a' my kin will say and swear, I drown'd mysell for sin, sir. Had the better by the brae, Janet, Janet; Had the better by the brae. My jo Janet. Good sir, for your courtesie. Coming through Aberdeen theft. For the love ye bear to me. Buy me a pair of sheen then. Clout the auld, the new are dear, Janet, Janet ; Ae pair may gain you ha'f a year^ My jo Janet. 45 But what if dancing on the green. And skipping hke a mawking. If they should see my clouted sheen. Of nie they will be tanking. Dance ay laigh, and late at e'en, Janet, Janet ; Syne a' their fauts will no be seen. My jo Janet. Kind sir, fov your courtesie, When ye gae to the cross then, For the love ye bear to me, Buy me a pacing-horse then. Pace upo' your spinning-wheel, Janet, Janet; Face upo' your spinning-wheel. My jo Janet. My spinning-wheel is auld and stiff. The rock o't winna stand, sir. To keep the temper-pin in tiff. Employs aft my hand, sir. Make the best o't tliat ye can, Janet, Janet; But like it never wale a man. My jo Janet. WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO ^V1' AN AULD MAN ? [By Burns.] yVuAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie. What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? 46 Bad luck on the pcnnie that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' Ian' ! Bad luck on the pennie, &c. He's always compleenin frae momin to e'enin. He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang ; He's deyl't and he's dozin, his bluid it is frozen, O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man ! He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankei-s, I never can please him do a' that I can ; He*s peevish, and jealous of a' the young fellows, O, dool on the day I met wi* an auld man ! My avild auntie Katie upon me takes pity, I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan ; I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart break him. And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. TAK YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YE. [This must have been a poptilar song in the beginning of the seventeenth century, one stanza of it being quoted in Of hello, in the scene where lago entices Cassio to drink with him.} In winter when the rain rain'd cauld. And frost and snaw on ilka hill. And Boreas, with his blasts sae bauld. Was threat'ning a' our ky to kill : Then Bell, my wife, wha loves nae strife. She said to me right hastily, Get up, goodman, save Cromie's life. And tak your auld cloak about ve^ 47 My Cromie is a usefu' cow. And she is come of a good kyne ; Aft has she wet the bairns' mou. And I am laith that she should tyne ; Get up^ goodman, it is fu' time. The sun shines in the Hft sae hie ; Sloth never made a gracious end. Go tak your auld cloak about ye. My cloak was ance a good gray cloak. When it was fitting for my wear; But now its scantly worth a groat. For I have worn't this thirty year ; Let's spend the gear that we have won. We little ken the day we'll die : Then I'll be proud, since I have sworp To have a new cloak about me. In days when our King Robert rang, His trews they cost but half a crown ; He said they were a groat o'er dear. And ca'd the taylor thief and loun. He was the king that wore a crown. And thou'rt a mail of laigh degree, 'Tis pride puts a' the country down, Sae tak thy auld cloak about thee. Every land has its ain laugh, Ilk kind of corn it has its hool, I think the warld is a' run wrang. When ilka wife her man wad rule ; Do ye not see Rob, Jock, and Hab, As they are girded gallantly. While I sit hurklen in the ase ? I'll have a new cloak about me. 48 Goodman, I wat 'tis thirty years Since we did ane anither ken ; And we have had betAveen us twa Of lads and bonny lasses ten ; Now they are women grown and men, I wish and pray well may they be ; And if you'd prove a good husband. E'en tak yoar auld cloak about ye. Bell, my wife, she lo'es nae strife. But she wati guide me, if she can ; And to maintain an easy life, I aft maun yield, tho' I'm gudeman : Nought's to be won at woman's hand. Unless ye gi'e her a' the plea ; Then I'll leave afF where I began. And tak my auld cloak about me. GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. It fell about the Martinmas time. And a gay time it was then. When our goodwife got puddings to make> And she's bojl'd them in the pan. The wind sae cauld blevv^ south and nortli^ And blew into the floor ; Quoth our'goodman to our goodwife, Gae out and bar the door. My hand is in my hussy'f-skap, Goodman, as ye may see. An it should nae be barr'd this hundred yide at hame wi' me, I'll lay my life I'se be the wife That's never tak the gee. MY WIFE'S A WANTON WEE THING, 3My wife's a wanton wee thing. My wife's a wantpn wee things My wife's a wanton wee thing. She winna be guided by me. She play'd the loon or she was marrieJ, She play'd the loon or she was married. She play'd the loon or she was married> She'll do it again or she die. 55 She sell'd her coat and she drank it^ She sell'd her coat and she drank it. She row*d bersell in a blanket. She winna be guided for me. She mind't na when I forbade her. She mind't na when I forbade her, I took a rung and I claw'd her. And a braw gude bairn was she. DRAP OF CAPPIE, O. There lived a wife in our gate-end. She lo'ed a drap of cappie, O, And all the gear that e'er she gat. She slipt it in her gabbie, O. Upon a frosty winter's night, The wife had got a drappie, O, And she had p 'd her coats sae well^ She could not find the pattie, O. But she's awa to her goodman. They ca'd him Tammie Lammie, O, Gae ben and fetch the cave to me. That I may get a drammie, O. Tammie was an honest man, Himsel he took a drappie, O, It was nae weel out-o'er his craig» . Till she was on his tappie, O. 56 She paid him weel, balth back and side^ And sair she creish'd his backie, O, And made his skin baith blue and black, And gar'd his shoulders crackie, O. Then he's awa* to the malt-barn. And he has ta'en a poekie, O, He put her in, baith head and tail. And cast her o'er his backie, O. The carling spum*d wi' head and feet. The carle he was sae aukie, O, To ilka wa' that he came by He gar'd her head play knackie, O. Goodman, I think you'll murder me. My brains you out will knockie, O : He gi'd her ay the other hitch. Lie still, you devil's buckie, O. Goodman, I'm like to make my bum, O let me out, good Tammie, O ; Then he set her upon a stane. And bade her p — h a dammie, O, Then Tammie took her aff the stane. And put her in the pockie, O, And when she did begin to spiu-n. He lent her ay a knockie, O. Away he went to the mill-dam. And there ga'e her a duckie, O, And ilka chiel that had a stick, Play'd thump upon lier backie, O* And when he took her hame again^ He did hing up the pockie, O^ At her bed-side, as I heard say. Upon a little knagie, O. And ilka day that she up-rose. In naething but her smockie, O. Sae soon as she look'd o'er the bed,. She might behold the pockie, O. Now all ye men, baith far and near. That have a drunken tutie, O, Duck ye your wives in time of year. And I'll lend yeu the pockie, O. The wife did live for nineteen years, And was fu' frank and cuthie, O, And ever since she got the duck. She never had the drouthie, O. At last the carling chanc'd to die. And Tammie did her bury, O, And, for the public benefit. He has gar'd print the curie, O. And this he did her motto make :— - " Here lies an honest luckie, O, Who never left the drinking trade, Until fshe got a duckie, O," 58 DUUKEN WIFE O' GALLOWAY. Down in yon meadow a couple did tarie, The good wife she drank naetliing but sack and canary; The goodman complain'd to her friends riglit airly, O / gin my nnfe wad drink hooly andfairlj. IIooli/ and fairly, hooly and fairly, O ! gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly. First she drank Crommy, and syne she draijk Garie, And syne she drank my bonny grey marie. That carried me thro' a' tlie dubs and the lairie. 0/ gin, &c. She drank her hose, she drank her shoon. And syne she drank her bonny new gown ; She drank her sark that covered her rarely. 0! gin, &c. Wad she drink her ain things, I wad na care. But she drinks my claiths I canna weel spare ; When I'm wi' my gossips, it angers me sairly. 0!gin,SiC, My Snnday's coat she's laid It a wad. The best blue bonnet e'er was on my head ; At kirk and at market I'm cover'd but barely. 0!gin,&iC, My bonny white mittens I wore on my hands, Wi' her neighbour's wife she has laid Uiem in pawn ; My bane-headed staff that I loo'd so dearly. 0/ gin, &c. 59 I never was for wrangling nor strife. Nor did I deny her the comforts of life. For when there's a war, I'm ay for a parley. ! gi?i, &c. Wlien there's ony money, she maun keep the purse ; If 1 seek but a bawbie, she'll scold and she'll curse ; She lives like a queen, I scrimped and sparely. 0! gin, Sec. A pint wi' her cummers I wad her allow. But when she sits down, she gets hersel fu*. And when she is fu' she is unco camstairie. 0! gin, &c. When she comes to the street, she roars and she rants. Has no fear of her neighbours, nor minds the house wants ; She rants up some fool sang, like, " Up your heart, Charlie." 0! gin, &c. Wlien she comes hame she lays on the lads. The lasses she ca's them baith b s and jades. And ca's mysell ay an auld cuckold carlie. / gin, &c. 60 TODLEN HA ME, [This is an old song; it was considered by Burns as " perhaps tlie first bottle song that ever was composed."] W^HEN I have a -saxpence under my thumb. Then V\l get credit in ilka town; But ay when I'm poor they bid me gang by; O ! poverty parts good company. Todlen hame^ todlen liajne, Coud na my love come todlen kame ? Fair fa' the goodwife, and send her good sale. She gi'es us white bannocks to drink her ale. Syne if that her tippenny chance to be sma'. Well tak a good scour o't, and ca't awa*. Todlen hame, todlen hame, As round as a neep come todlen hame. My kimmer and I lay down to sleep. And twa pint-stoups at our bed's feet ; And ay when we waken'd, we drank them dry : What think ye of my wee kimmer and I ? Todlen butt and todlen ben, Sae round as my love comes todlen hame. Leeze me on liquor, my todlen dow, Ye're ay sae good-humour'd when weeting your mou'; When sober, sae sour, ye'll fight with a flee. That 'tis a blyth sight to the bairns and me. When todkfi hame, todlen hame. When round at a neep ye come todkn hame. 61 THE DEIL'S AWA WF THE EXCISEMAN. [At a meeting of his brother excisemen in Dumfries, Burns being called upon for a song, handed these verses extempore to the president, written on the back of a letter.] The Deil cam fiddling thro' the town. And danc'd awa wi' the exciseman ; And ilka wife cry'd, Auld Mahomi, We wish you luck o* the prize, man. The Deil's awa, the JDeil's away The Deil's aiva wi' the ejcciseman, He's danc'd aiva, he's danc'd aiva. He's danc'd awa wi' the exciseman. We'll mak our maut, and brew our drink. We'll dance, and sing, and i^joice, man; And mony thanks to the muckle black Deil That danc'd awa wi* the exciseman. The Deil's awa, &c. There's threesome reels, and foursome reels. There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man. But the ae best dance e'er cam to our Ian', Was — the Deil's awa wi' the exciseman. The Deil's aiva, &c. MAGGY LAUDER. AVha wad na be in love Wi' bonny Maggy Lauder ? A piper met her gaun to Fife, And speer'd what was't they ca'd her -, F 62 Plight scornfully she answer'd him. Begone, ye hallanshaker. Jog on your gate, you bladderskate^ My name is Maggy Lauder. Maggy, quoth he, and by my bags, I'm fidging fain to see you : Sit down by me, my bonny bird. In troth I winna steer tliee : For I'm a piper to my trade. My name is Rob the Ranter; The lasses loup as they were daft. When I blaw up ray chanter. piper, quoth Meg, hae ye your bags. Or is your drone in order ? If you be Rob, I've heard of you. Live you upo' the border ? The lasses a', baith tar and near. Have heard of Rob the Ranter ; I'll shake my foot wi' right good will^ Gif youll blaw up your chanter. Then to his bags he flew wi' speed. About the drone he twisted : Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green. For brawly cou'd she frisk it : Weel done, quoth he : Play up, quoth she : Weel bob'd, quoth Rob the Ranter ; 'Tis worth my while to play indeed. When I hae sic a dancer. Weel hae you play'd your part, quoth Meg, Your cheeks are like the crimson ; There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel. Since we lost Habby Simpson. 63 I've liv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife. These ten years and a quarter ; Gin you should come to Enster fair, Speer ye for Maggy Lauder. DUNCAN DAVISON. There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, And she gaed o'er the muir to spin ; There was a lad that follow'd her^ They ca'd him Duncan Davison ; The muir was dreigh, and Meg was skeigh, Her favour Duncan cou'd na win ; For wi' the rock slie wad him knock. And ay she shook ihe temper pin. As o'er the muir they lightly scoor, A bum was clear, a glen was green. Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks. And ay she set the wheel between ; But Duncan swore a haly aith. That Meg should be a bride the morn. Then Meg took up her spinnin graith. And flang them a' out o'er the burn. O ! we will big a wee, wee house. And we will live like king and queen, Sae blythe and merry's we will be. When ye set by the wheel at e'en. A man may drink and no be drunk, A man may fight, and no be slain ; A man may kiss a bonny lass. And ay be welcome back again. 64 THE AULD WIFE AYONT THE FIRE. [In Ramsay's Tea-Tahlc Miscellany this song is marked with the letter Q. as an old song with additions.] 1 HERE was a wife won'd in a glen. And she had dochters nine or ten, That sought the house baith butt and ben To find their mam a enishing. * The avid, wife ayont thefirey The auld wife aniest the fire^ The aidd wife aboo?i the fir e^ She died for lack of snishing. Her mill into some hole had fawn. What recks, quoth she, let it be gawn^ For I maun hae a young goodman> Shall furnish me with snishing. The auld wife, &c. Her eldest dochter said right bauld, Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld. And if you with a yonker wald. He'll waste away your snishing. The auld 7vifc, SiC. The youngest dochter ga'e a shout, O mother dear ! your teeth's a' out. Besides ha'f blind, ye hae the gout. Your mill can had nae snishing. Tlie auld wife, &c. • Snishing, in its literal meaning, is finufFmadc of tobacco ; but in t)u« song it means sometimes contentment, a husband, love, >iionev, hiv. 65 Ye lie, ye limmers, cries auld miimpj For I hae baith a tooth and stump, And will nae langer live in dump. By wanting of my snishing. The mild wife, &c. * Thole ye, says Peg, that pauky slut. Mother, if you can crack a nilt. Then we will a' consent to it. That you shall have a snishing. The auld wife, &c. The auld ane did agree to that. And they a pistol-bullet gat ; She powerfully began to crack. To won hersell a snishing. The auld wife, &c. Braw sport it was to see her chow't. And 'tween her gums sae squeeze and row't^ While frae her jaws the slaver flow'd. And ay she curst poor stumpy. The auld wife, &c. At last she ga'e a desperate squeeze. Which brak the lang tooth by the neeze. And syne poor stumpy was at ease. But she tint hopes of snishing. The aidd wife, Sec. She of the task began to tire. And frae her dochters did retire. Syne lean'd her down ayont the fire, And died for lack of snishing. 2'he auld wife, &c. F 3 06 Ye auld wives, notice well this truth, As soon as ye're past mark of mouth. Ne'er do what's only fit for youth. And leave aif thoughts of snishing ; FAse, like this wife ayont ihc^firey Your bairns against you will conspire . Nor will you get, unless ye hire, A young man with your snishing^ ■%^-V^-VVWV^'V* THE ROCK AND THE WEE PICKLE TOW. [By Mr Alex. Ross, late schooliiiaster at Lochlee.] There was an auld wife an' a wee pickle tow. An' she wad gae try the spinning o't. She louted her down, an' her rock took a low. And that was a bad beginning o't : She sat an' she grat, an' she flet an' she flang. An' she threw an' she blew, an' she wrigl'd an' wrang. An' she choked, an' boaked, an' cry'd like to mang, Alas ! for the dreary spinning o't. I've wanted a sark for these eight years an' ten. An' this was to be the beginning o't. But I vow I shall want it for as lang again. Or ever I try the spinning o't ; For never since ever they ca'd me as they ca' jcne. Did sic a mishap an' misanter bcfa' me. But ye shall hae leave baith to hang me an' draw me. 'J'he nicst time I try the spinning o't. 67 I Tiae keeped my house for these threescore o' years. An' ay I kept free o' the spinning o't. But how I was sarked foul fa them that speers. For it minds me upo' the beginning o't. But our women are now a-days a' grown sae bra*. That ilk ane maun hae a sark an' some maun hae twa. The warlds were better when ne'er ane ava Had a rag but ane at the beginning o't. Foul fa' her that ever advis'd me to spin, That had been sae lang a beginning o't, I might well have ended as I did begin. Nor have got sic a skair with the spinning o't. But they'll say, she's a wyse wife that kens her ain weerd, I thought on a day it should never be speer'd. How loot ye the low tak your rock be the beard. When ye yeed to try the spinning o't ? The spinning, the spinning it gars my heart sab. When I think upo' the beginning o't, I thought ere I died to have anes made a wab. But still I had weers o' the spinning o't. But had I nine dathers, as I hae but three. The safest and soundest advice I cou'd gie. Is that they frae spinning wad keep their hands free, For fear of a bad beginnmg o't. Yet in spite of my counsel if they will needs run The drearysome risk o' the spinning o't. Let them seek out a lythe in the heat of the sun. And there venture on the beginning o't : But to do as I did, alas, and awow ! To busk up a rock at the cheek of the low. Says, that I had but little wit in my pow. And as little ado witli the spinning o't. OS But yet after a, there is ae thing that grieves My heart to think o' the beginning o't. Had I won the length but of ae pair o' sleeves. Then there had been word o' the spinning o't ; This I wad ha' washen an' bleech'd like the snaw. And o' my twa gardies like moggans wad draw, An' then fouk wad say, that auld Girzy was bra'^ An' a' was upon her ain spinning o't. But gin I wad shog about till a new spring, I should yet hae a bout of the spinning o't, A mutchkin of linseed I'd i' the yerd fling/ For a' the wan-chansie beginning o't. I'll gar my ain Tammie gae down to the how. An' cut me a rock of a widdershines grow. Of good rantry-tree for to carry my tow. An' a spindle of the same for the twining o't. For now when I mind me, I met Maggy Grim, This morning just at the beginning o't. She was never ca'd chancy, but canny an' slim. An' sae it has far'd of my spinning o't : But an my new rock were anes cutted an' dry, I'll a' Maggie's can an' her cantraps defy. An' but onie sussie the spinning I'll try. An' ye's a' hear o' the beginning o't. Quo' Tibby, her dather, tak tent fat ye say. The never a rag we'll be seeking o't. Gin ye anes begin, ye'll tarveal's night an* day, Sae it's vain ony mair to be speaking o't. Since Lambas I'm now gaen thirty an' twa. An' never a dud sark had I yet gryt or sma'. An* what war am I ? I'm as w^rm an' as bra'. As thrummy-tail'd Meg that's a spinner o't. 69 To labor the lint-land, an' then buy the seed^. An' then to yoke me to the harrowing o't, An' syn loll amon't an' pike out ilka weed. Like swine in a sty at the farrowing o't ; Syn powing and ripling an' steeping, an' then To gar's gae an' spread it upo' the cauld plain. An' then after a' may be labor in vain. When the wind and tlie weet gets the fusion o't. But tho' it should anter the weather to byde, Wi' beetles we're set t Nor has onie can o' the spinning o't. In the days they ca'd yore, gin auld fouks had but won. To a surkoat hough-side for the winning o't. Of cot raips well cut by the cast o' their bum, Ihey never sought mair o' the spinning o't. A pair of grey hoggers well clinked benew. Of nae other lit but the hue of the ew. With a pair of rough rullions to scuff thro' the dew. Was the fee they sought at the beginning o't. But we maun hae linen, an' that maun hae we. An' how get we that, but the spinning o't ? How can we hae face for to seek a gryt fee. Except we can help at the winning o't ? An' we maun hae pearlins, and mabbies, an' cocks. An' some other thing that the ladies ca' smokes, An' how get we that, gin we tak na our rocks. And pow what we can at tlie spinning o't? 71 'Tis needless for us for to tak our remarks Frae our mither's miscooking the spinning o't. She never kend ought o' the guid of the sarks, Frae this aback to the beginning o't. Twa-three ell of plaiden was a' that was sought By our auld warld bodies, an' that boot be bought. For in ilka town sickan things was na wrought. So little they kend o' the spinning o't. THE WEARY FUND O' TOW. The weary pund, the weary pund, The weary pund o tow ; I think my wife will end her life, Before she spin her tow. I bought my wife a stane o' lint As gude as e'er did grow^ And a' that she has made o' that. Is ae poor pund o' tow. The weary pund, &c. There sat a bottle in a bole, Beyont the ingle low ; And ay she took the tither souk. To drouk the stourie tow. The weary pund, &c. Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame, Gae spin your tap o' tow ! She took the rock, and wi' a knock. She brak it o'er my pow. The weary pund, &c. ^ 7;: At last her feet, I sang to see% Gaed foremost o'er the knowe And or I wed anither jad, I'll wallop in a tow. The weary pumlj &c. k-*%**-w%'v>v^ WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T. [By Burns.] First when Maggy was my care. Heaven, I thought, was in her air; Now we're married — spier nae mair— Whistle o'er the lave o't. Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Bonnie Meg was nature's child- Wiser men than me's beguil'd-— Whistle o'er the lave o't. How we live, my Meg and me. How we love and how we 'gree, I care na by how few may see ; Whistle o'er the lave o't. Wha I wish were maggots meat, Dish'd up in her winding-sheet ; I could write — but Meg maun see't— Whistle o'er the lave o't. 73 ANDRO AND HIS CUTTY GUN. Blyth, blyth, blyth was she, . Blyth was she butt and ben ; And well she loo'd a Hawick gill. And leugh to see a tappit hen. She took me in, and set me down. And heght to keep me lawing free ; But, cunning carling that she was. She gart me birl my bawbee. We loo'd the liquor well enough; But waes my heart my cash was done. Before that I had quench'd my drouth. And laith I was to pawn my shoon. When we had three times toom'd our stoup. And the niest chappin new begun. In started, to heeze up our hope. Young Andi'o with his cutty gun. The carling brought her kebbuck ben. With girdle-cakes well toasted brown. Well does the canny kimmer ken, They gar the scuds gae glibber down. We ca'd the bicker aft about ; Till dawning we ne'er jee'd our bum • And ay the cleanest drinker out. Was Andro with his cutty gun. He did like ony mavis sing^, And as I in his oxter sat. He ca'd me ay his bonny thing. And mony a sappy kiss I gat. G 74. I liae been east, I liac been wes^, I hae been far ayont the sun ; But the blythest lad that e'er I saw. Was AncU'o with his cutty gun. WILLY WAS A WANTON WAG. [By Mr Walkinshaw of Walkinshaw.] ^ViLLY was a wanton wag. The blythest lad that e'er I saw. At bridals still he bore the brag. And carried ay the gree awa; His doublet was of Zetland shag, And wow ! but Willy he was braw. And at his shoulder hang a tag. That pleas'd the lasses best of a'. He was a man without a ^lag. His heart was frank without a flaw ; And ay whatever Willy said, It was still hadden as a law. His boots they were made of the jag ; When he wept to the weaponshaw. Upon the green nane durst him brag. The feind a ane amang them a*. And was not Willy well worth gowd ? He wan the love of great and sma* ; For after he the bride had kiss'd, ^e kiss'd the lasses hale-sale a' ; n Sae merrily round the ring they row'd. When by the hand he led them a, And smack on smack on them bestow'd, By virtue of a standing law. And was nae Willy a great lown. As shyre a lick as e'er was seen ? When he danc'd with the lasses round. The bridegroom speer'd where he had been. Quoth Willy, I've been at tlie ring. With bobbing, faith, my shanks are sau* ; Gae ca' your bride and maidens in. For Willy he dow do nae mair. Then rest ye, Willy ; I'll gae out. And for a wee fill up the ring : But, shame light on his souple snout. He wanted Willy's wanton fling. Then straight he to the bride did fare> Says, Well's me on your bonny face. With bobbing Willy's shanks are sair. And I am come to fill his place. Bridegroom, she says, you'll spoil the dancejr . And at the ring youll ay be lag. Unless like Willy ye advance ; O ! Willy has a wanton leg : For we't he learns us a* to steer. And foremast ay bears up the ring ; We will find nae sic dancing here. If we want Willy's wanton fling. 76 THE BOB OF DUMBLAKE. • [The two first lines are old, the rest of the song is by Ramsay. ][ liASSiE, lend me your braw hemp heckle. And ril lend you my thripling kame ; For fainness, deary, I'll gar ye keckle. If ye'll go dance the Bob of Dumblane. Haste ye, gang to the ground of your trunkies. Busk ye braw, and dinna think shame ; Consider in time, if leading of monkies Be better than dancing the Bob of Dumblane. Be frank, my lassie, lest I grow fickle. And tak my word and offer again, Syne ye may chance to repent it mickle. Ye did nae accept of the Bob of Dumblane. The dinner, the piper, and priest shall be ready. For I'm grown dowy wi' lying ray lane; Away then, leave baith minny and dadd})-. And try with me the Bob of Dumblane. THE EANTIN DOG THE DADDIE O'T. [Composed by Bukns when a very young man, and sent by him to a young girl, a particular acquaintance of his, ut that time under a cloud.] O WHA my babie-clouts will buy ? Wha will tent me when I cry ? Wha will kiss me whai^e I lie .'* The rantiu dog the daddic o't.-— . 77 Wha will own he did the faut ? Wha will buy my groanin maut ? Wha will tell me how to ca't ? The rantin dog the daddie o't.— When I mount the creepie-chaiiv. Wha will sit beside me there ? Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair. The rantin dog the daddie o't.— ^ha will crack to. me my lane? Wha will mak me fidgin fain ? Wha will kiss me o'er again? The rantin dog the daddie o't. — ^'V'wvv^/w^-*^ THE WEE WIFEIKIE. |[This very excellent song is said to be the composition of the learned Dr Alexander Geddes, well known in the literary world for his translation of the Bible into English, and other works.] There was a wee bit wifeikie, was comin frae the fair. Had got a little drappikie, that bred her meikle care^ It gaed about the wifie's heart, and she began to spew. Oh ! quo' the wee wifeikie, I wish I binna fou. / wish I hhinafouj quo' she, I wish I binna fou. Oh ! quo' the wee wifiikie, I wish I binna fou. If Johnnie find me barley- sick, I'm sure he'll claw my skin j But I'll lye down and tak a nap before that I gae in. Sitting at the dyke-side, and taking o* her nap. By came a packman wi' a little pack, Wi' a little pack, quo' she, wi' a little packt By came a packman wi' a little pack. 78 He's cllppit a' her gowden locks sae bonnie and sae lang; He's ta'en her purse and a' her placks, and fast awa he ran. . And when the wifie wakcn'd her head was like a bee. Oh ! quo' the wee wifeikie, this is nae me. This is nae me, quo' she, this is nae me, Somebody has been felling me, and this is nae me, I met with kindly company, and birl'd my babee ! And still, if this be Bessikie, three placks remain wi' mc ; But I will look the pursie nooks, see gin the cunzie be; — There's neither purse nor plack about me I^—this is nae me. This is nae me, ■&€. But I have a little housekie, but and a kindly man ; A dog, they ca' him Doussekie, if this be me he'll faun. And Johnnie, he'll come to the door, and kindly wel- come gie. And a' the bairns on the floor wiU dance if this be me. This is nae me, &c. The night was late, and dang out weet, and oh but it was dark, The doggie heard a body's foot, and he began to bark. Oh when she heard the doggie bark, and kenning it was he, Oh well ken ye, Doussie, quo* she, this is nae me. This is nae me, ike. 79 Wlien Johnnie heard his Bessie's word, fast to tlie door lie ran ; Is that you, Bessikie ? — Wow na, man ! Be kind to the bairns, and weel mat ye be ; And farewell, Johnnie, quo' she, this is nae me ! This is nae mCj &c» John ran to the minister, his hair stood a' on end, I've gotten sic a fright, sir, I fear I'll never mend ; My wife's come hame without a head, crying out most piteously. Oh farewell, Johnnie, quo' she, this is nae me ! This is nae me, &c. The tale you tell, the parson said, is wonderful to me. How that a wife without a head could speak, or hear, or see ! But things that happen hereabout, so strangely alter'd be. That I could almost wi' Bessie say, 'tis neither you nor she. Neither you nor she, quo' he, neither you nor she. Wow na, Johnnie man, 'tis neither you nor she. Now Johnnie he came hame again, and oh ! but he was fain. To see his little Bessikie come to hersell again. He got her sitting on a stool with Tibbek on her knee_, Oh ! come awa, Johnnie, quo' she, come awa to me. For I've got a nap wi' Tibbekie, and this is now me. This is norv me, quo' she, this is now me, I've got a nap wi' Tibbekie, and this is now me. 60 THE TURNIMSPIKE. Tune — Clout the Caldron. Hersell pe Highland shentleman, Pe auld as Pothwel-prig, * man ; An' mony alterations seen Amang te Lawland Whig, man. Fal, lal, &c. First when her to the Lawlands came, Nainsell was driving cows, man : There was nae laws about him's nerse. About the preeks or trews, man, Fal, lal, &c. Nainsell did wear the philabeg. The plaid prick't on her shou'der ; The guid claymore hung pe her pelt. The pistol sharg'd wi' pouder. Falf lal, &c. But for whereas these cursed preeks. Wherewith her nerse be lockit, O hon ! that e'er she saw the day ! For a' her houghs be prokit. Fat, led, &c. * The battle of Bothwell-briclge was fought on the 22d July 1679, in which the Covenanters, under General Hamilton, were totally defeated by the royai army commanded by the Duke of Momnoutlu M Every t'ing in te Highlands now Pe turn't to alteration : The sodger dwall at our toor-sheek. And tat's te great vexation. Fal, lal, &c. Scotland be turn't a Ningland now An' laws pring on te cadger : Nainsell wad durk him for her deedS;, But oh ! she fears te sodger. Fal, lal, &c. Anither law cam after that. Me never saw te like, man. They mak a lang road on te crund. And ca' him Turnimspike, man. Fal, lal, &c. An* wow ! she pe a ponny road. Like Louden corn-rigs, man. Where twa carts may gang on her. An' no preak ithers legs, man. Fal, lal, &c. They sharge a penny for ilka horse In troth she'll no pe sheaper. For nought put gaen upo' the crund. And they gi'e me a paper. Fal, lal. Sec. They tak te horse t'en py te head. And t'ere they mak' him stand, man ; isle tell tern me hae seen te day Tey hdd nae sic command, man. Fal, lal, &c. 82 Nae doubts, Nainsell maun tra her purse. And pay them what hims hke, man : I'll see a shugement on his toor, T'at filthy Turnimspike, man ! Fal, laly &c. But I'll awa to te Highland hills. Where te'il a ane dare turn her. And no come near her Turnimspike, Unless it pe to pum her. Fal, lal, &c. TULLOCHGORUM. I Written by the late Rev. John Skinner, sixty-four years Episco- pal clergyman at Longside, Aberdeenshire. "He was- passing the day," says Burns, " at the town of [Ellon] in a friend's house, whose name was Montgomery. Mrs Montgomery ob- serving, en passant, that the beautiful reel of Tullochgorum wanted words, she begged them of Mr Skinner, who gratified her wishes, and the wislies of every lover of Scottish song, in this most excellent balla,d."] Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cry'd. And lay your disputes all aside. What singifies't for folks to chide For what was done before them :. Let Whig and Tory all agree. Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory all agree. To drop their Whig-mig-monmi ; Let Whig and Tory all agree To spend the night wi' mirth and glee^ And cheerful sing alang wi' me The reel o" Tullochgorum. 83 Tullocligomm*s my delight. It gars us a' in ane unite. And ony sumph that keeps a spite. In conscience I abhor him : For blythe and cheerie we'll be a*, Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie, Blythe and cheerie we'll be a'. And make a happy quwum. For blythe and cheerie we'll be a' As lang as we hae breath to draw. And dance till we be like to fa' The reel o' TuUochgorum, What needs there be sae great a fraise Wi' dringing dull Italian lays, 1 wad na gie our ain Strathspeys For half a hunder score o' them ; They're dowf and dowie at the best, Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie, Dowf and dowie at the best, Wi* a' their variorum ; They're dowf and dowie at the best. Their allegros and a' the rest, They canna' please a Scottish taste Compar'd wi' TuUochgorum. Let warldly worms their minds oppress Wi' fears o' want and double cess, And sullen sots themsells distress Wi' keeping up decorum : Shall we sae sour and sulky sit. Sour and sulky, sour and sulky. Sour and sulky shall we sit Like old philosophorum I 84 Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit. Nor ever try to shake a fit To th' reel o* Tullochgorum ? INIay choicest blessings ay attend Each honest, open-hearted friend. And calm and quiet be his end. And a' that's good watch o'er him ; May peace and plenty be his lot. Peace and plenty, peace and plenty. Peace and plenty be his lot. And dainties a great store o' them ; May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstain'd by any vicious spot. And may he never want a groat. That's fond o* Tullochgorum ! But for the sullen frumpish fool. That loves to be oppression's tool. May envy gnaw his rotten soul. And discontent devour him ; May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, Dool and sorrow be his chance. And nane say, wae's me for him ! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Wi' a' the ills that come frae France, Whae'er he be that winna dance The reel o' Tullochgoi*um. CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN. [The old words.] There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, And castocks in Stra'bogie, Where ilka lad maun hae his lass. But I maun hae my cogie. For I maun hae my cogic, troth, I canna want my cogie ; I wadna gie my thi-ee-gird cog For a the ivives hi Bogie. Johnnie Smith has got a wife Wha scrimps liim o' liis cogie ; But were she mine, upon my life, I'd duck her in a bogie. For I maun hae, &c. Twa or three toddlin weans they hae. The pride o' a' Stra'bogie ; Whene'er the totums cry for meat. She curses ay his cogie ; Crying, Wae betide tJie thrce-gird cog ! Oh, wae betide the cogie ! It does mair shaith than a' the ills That happen in Stra'bogie, She fand him ance at Willie Sharp's, And, what they maist did laugh at. She brake the bicker, spilt the drink. And tightly gowfTd his haffet, Crying, Wae betide, &c. II 86 Yet here's to ilka honest soul Wha'll drink wi' me a cogie ; And for ilk silly whingin fool. We'll duck him in the bogie. For I maun hae my cogie, sirsj I carina ivant my cogic ; 1 wadna gie my three-gird cog For a' ike queans in Bogie, [By the Duke of Gordon.] '1 here's cauld kail in Aberdeen, And castocks in Stra'bogie ; Gin I hae but a bonny lass, Ye're welcome to your cogie. And ye may sit up a' the night. And drink till it be braid day-light i Gie me a lass baith clean and tight. To dance the reel of Bogie. In cotillons the French excel ; .John Bull in country -dances ; The Spaniards dance fandangos well ; Mynheer an all'mande prances : In foursome reels the Scots delight. The threesome maist dance wondrous light. But twasome ding a' out o' sight, Danc'd to the reel of Bogie. Come, lads, and view your partners well, Wale each a bly thsome rogie ; I'll tak this lassie to mysell, jSjie seems sae keen and vogie : 87 l">row, piper lad, bang up the spring ; The country fashion is the thing. To prie their mou's ere we begin To dance the reel o' Bogie. Now ilka lad has got a lass. Save yon aiild doited fogie. And ta'en a fling iiy>o' the grass. As they do in Stra'bogie. But a' the lasses look sae fain. We canna think oursels to hain. For they maun hae their come-again^ To dance the reel of Bogie, Now a' tlie lads hae done their best. Like true men of Stra'bogie ; We'll stop a while and tak a rest. And tipple out a cogie : Come now, my lads, and tak your glass. And try ilk other ta surpass. In wishing health to every lass To dance the reel of Bogie. THE EWIE Wr THE CROOKIT HORN. [By the Rev. John Skixn£&.]. Were I but able to rehearse. My ewie's praise in proper verse, I'd sound it forth as loud and fierce As ever piper's drone could blaw ; 88 The ewie wi' the crookit horn, A\'ha had kent her might hae sworn Sie a ewe was never born. Hereabout nor far awa'. Sic a ewe ivas never born, Hereabout nor far awa\ I never needed tar nor keil To mark her upo' hip or heel. Her crookit horn did as weel To ken her by amo* them a* ; She never threatened scab nor rot. But keepit ay her ain jog-trot, Baitli to the fauld and to the cot. Was never sweir to lead nor ca', Baitk to the fauld and to the cot, &c. Caiild nor hunger never dang her. Wind nor wet could never wrang her, Anes she lay an ouk and langer Furth aneath a wreath o* snaw : Whan ither ewie's lap the dyke. And eat the kail for a* the tyke. My ewie never play'd the like. But tyc'd about the barn wa'; Ml/ ewie never play'd the like, &c. A better or a thriftier beast, Nae honest man could weel hae wist, For, silly thing, she never mist To hae ilk' year a lamb or twa' ; The first she had I gae to .Jock, To be to him a kind o' stocky And now the laddie has a flock O' mair nor thirty head ava' ; And now the laddie has a foek, &c. 89 I lookit aye at even' for her. Lest mishanter shou'd come o'er her. Or the fowmart might devour her. Gin the beastie bade awa' ; My ewie wi' the crookit horn, .Well deserv'd baith girse and com, , Sic a ewe was never born. Hereabout nor far aw a'. Sic a ewe was never born, &c. Yet last onk, for a' my keeping, (Wha can speak it without greeting ?) A villain cam when I was sleeping, Sta' my ewie, horn and a' : I sought her sair upo* the morn; And down aneath a buss o' thorn I got my ewie's crookit horn. But my ewie was awa'. / got mi) ervie's crookit horn, &c. ! gin I had the loun that did it^ Sworn I have as well as said it, Tho* a' the warld should forbid it^ I wad gie his neck a thra* : 1 never met wi' sic a turn As this sin ever I was born, My ewie wi' the crookit horn. Silly ewie stown awa'. My ewie wi' the crookit fiorn, &c. O ! had she died o' crook or cauld. As ewies do when they grow auld. It wad na been, by mony fauld, Sae sair a heart to nane o's a' : , 113 90 For a* the clalth that we hae worn, Frae her and her's sae aften shorn. The loss o' her we cou'd hae born. Had fair strae-death ta'en her awa' The loss o' her rve cou'd hae born, &c. But thus, poor thin^, ta lose her life, Aneath a bleedy villain's knife, I'm really fley't that our guidwife Will never win aboon't ava' : O ! a' ye bards benorth Kinghorn, Call ybur muses up and mourn. Our ewie wi' the crookit horn, Stow;i frae's, and fellt and a' ^ (hir ewie ?vi' the crookit horrii &c. JOHN O' BADENYON. [Written by the Rev. John Skixxer, about 1763, when Mess* Wilkes, Home, &c. were making a noise about liberty.] > V HEN first I cam to be a man Of twenty years or so, I thought myself a handsome youth. And fain the world would know ; In best attire I stept abroad. With spirits brisk and gay. And here and there and every where Was like a mom in May ; No care I had nor fear of want. But rambled up and down. And for a beau I might have past In country or in town; 91 I still was pleas'd where'er I went. And when I was alone, I tun'd my pipe and pleas'd myself Wi' John o' Badenyon. Now in the days of youthful prime A mistress I must find. For love, I heard, gave one an air And ev'n improv'd the mind : On Phillis fair above the rest Kind fortune fixt my eyes. Her piercing beauty struck my heart. And she became my choice ; To Cupid now with hearty prayer I offer'd many a vow ; And danc'd and sung, and sigh'd and swcOee, As other lovers do ; But, when at last I breath'd my flame, I found her cold as stone ; I left the girl, and tun'd my pipe To John o' Badenyon. When love had thus my heart beguil'd With foolish hopes and vain ; To friendship's port I steer'd my course^ And laugh'd at lovers' pain ; A friend I got by lucky chance, 'Twas something like divine. An honest friend's a precious gift. And such a gift was mine ; And now whatever might betide A happy man was I, In any strait I knew to whom I freely might apply; 0^^ A strait soon came : my friend I try'd ; He heard, and spum'd my moan ; I Jiy'd me home, and tun'd my pipe To John o' Badenyon. Methought I sliouW be wiser next And would a patriot turn. Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes And cry up Parson Home. Their manly spirit I admir'd. And prais'd their noble zeal. Who had with flaming tongue and pen Maintain'd the public weal ; But ere a month or two had past, I found myself betray'd, '^was self and party after all, . For a' the stir they made ; At last I saw the factious knaves Insult the very throne, I curs'd them a', and tun'd my pipe To John o' Badenyon. What next to do I mus'd a while. Still hoping to succeed, I pitch'd on books for company. And gravely try'd to read : I bought and borrowed every where. And study'd night and day. Nor mist what dean or doctor wrote That happen'd in my way : Philosophy. I now esteem'd The ornament of youth. And carefully through many a page I hunted after truth. OS A thousand various schemes I try'd^ And yet was pleas'd with none, I threw them by, and tun'd my pipe To John o' Badenyon. And now ye youngsters every where. That wish to make a show. Take heed in time, nor fondly hope For happiness below ; What you may fancy pleasure here. Is but an empty name. And girls, and friends, and books, and so. You'll find them all the same: Then be advised and warning take From such a man as me ; I'm neither Pope nor Cardinal, Nor one of high degree ; You'll meet displeasure every where ; Then do as I have done, Ev'n tune your pipe and please yourselves With John o' Badenyon. k'VV%'WV*V^%'V KATHARINE OGIE. [About 1680, this song was sung by Mr Abell at his concert in Stationers Hall, London — Ritson.] As walking forth to view the plain. Upon a morning early, While May's sweet scent did cheer my brdin, From flowers which grev/ so rarely : 94 I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid. She shin'd though it was fogie : I ask'd her name : Sweet sh% she said. My name is Katharine Ogie. I stood a while, and did admire To see a nymph so stately ; So brisk an air there did appear. In a countiy maid so neatly : Such natural sweetness she display'd. Like a lillie in a bogie ; Diana's self was ne'er array 'd Like this same Katharine Ogie. Thou flow'r of females. Beauty's queen. Who sees thee sure must prize thee ; Though thou art drest in robes but mean. Yet these cannot disguise thee : Thy handsome air, and graceful look,. Far excels any clownish rogie ; Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke. My charming Katharine Ogie. O were I but a shepherd swain ! To feed my flock beside thee. At boughting time to leave the plain. In milking to abide thee ; I'd think myself a happier man. With Kate, my club, and dogie, Than he tliat hugs his thousands ten, Had I but Katharine Ogie. Tlian I'd despise th' imperial throne. And statesmen's dangerous stations j I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown, I'd smile at conqu'ring nations; 95 Might I caress and still possess This lasSj of whom I'm vogie ; For these are toys, and still look less Compar'd with Katharine Ogie. But I fear the gods have not decreed For me so fine a creature. Whose beauty rare makes her exceed All other works of nature : Clouds of despair surround my love. That are both dark and fogie ; Pity my case, ye powers above ! Else I die for Katharine Ogie. THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL. [Written by Ramsay wliile residing at Loudon Castle with the then Earl. One forenoon, riding, or walking out together, his Lordship and Allan passed a sweet romantic spot on Ir\Tne water, still called " Patie's Mill," where a bonnie lass was " tedding hay," bareheaded on the green. My Lord observed to Allan, that it would be a fine theme for a song. Ramsay took the hint, and, lingering beliind, he composed the first sketch of it, which he produced at dinner. — Bubns. j The lass of Patie's mill. So bonny, blyth and gay. In spite of all my skill, She stole my heart away. When tedding of the hay. Bare-headed on the green. Love 'midst her locks did play. And wanton'd in her een. 06 Her arms, white, round, and smooth. Breasts rising in their dawn. To age it would give youth. To press 'em with his hand. Through all my spirits ran An extasy of bliss. When I such sweetness fand Wrapt in a balmy kiss. Without the help of art. Like flowers which grace the wild. She did her sweets impart. Whene'er slje spoke or smil'd. Her looks they were so mild. Free from affected pride ; She .me to love beguil'd, I wish'd her for my bride. O ! had I all that wealth Hopetpun's high mountains * fill, Insur'd long life and health. And pleasure at my will ; I'd promise and fulfil. That none but bonny she. The lass of Patie's mill. Should share the same with me. • Thirty-three mfles south-west of Edinburgh, where ?the RiglU Honourable the Earl of Hopetoun's mines of gold and lead are.— . Ramsay. 97 O'ER THE MOOR AMANG THE HEATHER. " This is the composition of a Jean Glover, a girl who was not only a whore, but also a thief; and in one or other character has visited most of the correction houses in the west. She was born I believe in Kilmarnock, — I took the song down from her singing as she was strolling through the country with a slight-of-hand blackguard." — Burns. ] Com IN thro' the craigs o' Kyle, Amang the bonnie blooming heather. There I met a bonnie lassie. Keeping a' her yowes thegither, Oer the moor amang the heather, Oer the moor amang the heather , Tliere I met a bonnie lassie. Keeping a' her yowes ihegither. Says I, My dearie where is thy hame. In moor or dale pray tell me whether? She said, I tent the fleecy flocks That feed amang the blooming heather. O'er the moor, &c. We laid us down upon a bank, Sae warm and sunny was the weather. She left her flocks at large to rove Amang the bonnie blooming heather. O'er the moor, Sec. While thus we lay, she sang a sang. Till echo rang a mile and farther. And ay the burden o* the sang Was o'er the moor amang the heather. O'er the moor, &c. VOL. II. I 98 Slic cliann'd my heart, and aye slnsyrie, I could iia think on any ither : By sea and sky she shall be mine ! The bonnie lass amang the heather. Qer the moor, tS:c, THE LAMMIE. [By H. Macxeill, TL^.\ WiiAR hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy? Whar hae ye been a' day, my boy Tammy ? I've been by burn and flew'ry brae. Meadow green and mountain grey, Courting o' this young thing Just come frae her mammj. And whar gat ye that young thing, My boy Tammy ? I gat her down in yonder how. Smiling on a broomy know. Herding ae wee lamb and ewe For her poor mammy. "What said ye to the bonnie bairn. My boy Tammy ? I prais'd her eeu, so lovely blue. Her dimpled cheek, and cherry mou ;— I pree'd it aft as ye may trou ! — bt^e said, she'd tell her mammy. I held her to my beating heart. My young, my smihng lammie ! 99 I hae a house, it cost me dear, I've walth o' plenishen and gear ; Ye'se get it a' wer't ten times mair. Gin ye will leave your mammy. The smile gaed aff her bonnie face— I maun nae leave my mammy ; She's gi'en me meat, she's gi'en me claise. She's been my comfort a' my days :— My father's death brought mony waes— I canna leave my mammy. We'll tak her hame and mak her fain. My ain kind-hearted lammie ; We'll gie her meat, we'll gie her claise. We'll be her comfort a' her days. The wee thing gies her hand, and says. There ! gang and ask my mammy. Has she been to the kirk with thee^ My boy Tammy > She has been to the kirk wi' me. And the tear was in her ee, — But O ! she's but a young thing Just come frae her mammy. HY PEGGY IS A YOUNG THING [By Ramsay.] Tune— -r^e warvUng qfthefaald. My Peggy is a young thing, Just enter'd in her teens. Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay ; 100 My Peggy is a young thing. And I'm nae very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wawking of the fauld. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly. Whene'er we meet alane, • I wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a' that's rare. My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, To a' the lave I'm cauld ; But she gars a' my spirits glow. At wawking of the fauld. My Peggy smiles sae kindly. Whene'er I whisper love. That I look down on a' the towiJ, That I look down upon a crown. My Peggy smiles sae kindly. It makes me blyth and bauld : And naething gi'es me sic delight. As wawking of the fauld. My Peggy sings sae saftly. When on my pipe I play ; 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. With innocence, the wale of sens^j At wawking of the fauld. 101 CORN RIGS ARE BONXV. [By Ramsay.]; jNIy Patie is a lover gay. His mind is never muddy. His breath is sweeter than new hay. His face is ftiir and ruddy. ^ His shape is handsome, middle size. He's stately in his wa'king ; The shining of his een surprise ; 'Tis heaven to hear him ta'king. Last night I met him on a bawk. Where yellow corn was growing,. There raony a kindly word he spake. That set my heart a-glowing. He kiss'd, and vow'd he wad be mine. And loo'd me best of ony ; That gars me like to sing sinsyne, " O corn rigs are bonny." Let maidens of a silly mind Refufe what maist they're wanting ^. Since we for yielding are design'd. We chastely should be granting ; Then I'll comply, and marry Pate, And syne my cockernony He's free to touzle air or late W^hcre corn rigs are bonny. 13 A* 102 TWEED-SIDE. [Tliesc verses are the old words to this tune, and are said to have " been composed by a Lord Yester.] VVifj EN Maggy ^nd I were acquaint, I Cc^rrif.'d my noddle fii' hie; Nae iKit .virite on all the gay plain. Nor gowdspink sae bonny as she. I whistled, I pip'd, and I sang, T woo'd, but I came nae great speed ; Therefore I maun wander abroad, '^ 'And lay my banes over the Tweed. To Maggy my love I did tell, Saut tears did my passion express ; Alas ! for I lo'ed her o'er well, ' -i^ And the women lo*e sic a man less. Her heart it was frozen and cauld, Her pride had my ruin decreed, Tlierefore I will wander abroad. And lay my banes far frae the Tweed, TWEED-SIDE. {.Written about 1731 by Robert Crawford of Auchinames, who was unfortunately drownetl coming from France. The Mary to whom tlie lines are addressed, says the learned author of MarinloHy was a Miss Mary Lilias Scott of the Harden family.] What beauties does Flora disclose ! How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed ! Yet Mary's still sweeter than those. Both nature and fancy exceed. % 103 No daisy, nor sweet blushing rose, Not all the £fay flowers of the field. Nor Tweed gliding gently thro' those. Such beauty and pleasiu-e does yield. The warblers are heard in the grove. The linnet, the lark, and the thrush. The blackbird, and sweet cooing dove. With music enchant ev'ry bush. Come, let us go forth to the mead. Let us see how the primroses spring ; We'll lodge in some village on Tweed, And love while the feather'd folks sing. How does my love pass the long day ? Does Mary not 'tend a few sheep ? Do they never carelessly stray, While happily she lies asleep ? Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest ; Kind nature indidging my bliss, To relieve the soft pains of my breast, I'd steal an ambrosial kiss. 'Tis she does the virgins excel. No beauty with her may compare ; Love's graces around her do dwell. She's fairest where thousands are fair. Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray ? Oh ! tell me at noon where they feed ; Shall I seek them on sweet winding Tay, Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed ? 104 BESSY BELL AND MAHY GRAY. [The first stanza is supposed to be part of the original song, which, it is to be regretted, Ramsay altered, substituting his own verses in its stead, it being highly probable that the pre- sent song is much inferior to the old one which was founded on the following story : — " The celebrated Bessie Bell and Mary Gray are buried near Lyndoch. * The common tradition is, that the father of the former was laird of Kinvaid, in the neighbour- hood of Lyndoch, and the father of the latter laird of I^yndoch ; that these two young ladies were both very handsome, and a most intimate friendship subsisted between them ; that while Miss Bell was on a visit to Miss Gray, the plague broke out in the year 1666, in order to avoid which, they built themselves a bower, about three quarters of a mile west from Lyndoch- house, in a very retired and romantic place, called Burn-braes, on the side of Brauchie-burn. Here they lived for some time, but the plague raging with great fury, they caught the infec- tion, it is said, from a young gentleman, who was in love with them both, and here they died. The burial place lies abovit half a naile west from the present house of Lyndoch." 3Iitses Thrcnodie, p. 19, Perth, 1774.] O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, They are twa bonny lasses. They bigg'd a bower on yon burn brae. And theeked it o'er wi' rashes. Fair Bessy Bell I loo'd yestreen. And thought I ne'er could alter ; But Mary Gray's twa pawky een. They gar my fancy falter. Now Bessy's hair's like a lint-tap ; She smiles like a May morning. When Phoebus starts frae Thetis' lap. The hills with rays adorning : " The seat of that gallant officer, Lord Lyndoch 105 White is hel- neck, saft is her hand. Her waist and feet's fu' genty; With ilka grace she can command ; Her hps, O wow I they're dainty. And Mary's locks are like a craw, Her een like diamonds glances; She's ay sae clean, redd up, and braw. She kills whene'er she dances : Blyth as a kid, with wit at will. She blooming, tight, and tall is ; And guides her airs sae gracefu' still, O Jove ! she's like thy Pallas. Dear Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, Ye unco sair oppress us ; Our fancies jee between you twae. Ye are sic bonny lasses : Waes me ! for baith I canna get. To ane by law we're stented ; Then I'll draw cuts, and tak my fate. And be with ane contented. THE YOUNG LAIRD AND EDINBUUGH KATV. [By Ramsay.] Now wat ye wha I met yestreen. Coming down the street, my jo ? My mistress in her tartan screen, Fu' bonny, braw, and sweot^ my jo. i 106 My dear, quoth I, thanks to the niglit, That never wish'd a lover ill. Since ye're out of your mither's sight. Let's tak a wauk up to the Hill. O Katy, wilta' gang wi' me, And leave the dinsome town a while? The blossom's sprouting frae the tree. And a' the simmer's gaw'n to smile i The mavis, nightingale, and lark. The bleeting lambs, and whistling hind^ In ilka dale, green, shaw, and park. Will nourish health, and glad your mind. Soon as the clear goodman of day Does bend his morning draught of dew. We'll gae to some burn-side and play, ' And gather flowers to busk your brow: We'll pu' the daisies on the green. The lucken gowans frae the bog ; Between hands now and then we'll leai^. And sport upo' the velvet fog. There's up into a pleasant glen, A wee piece frae my father's tow'r, A canny, saft, and flow'ry den. Where circling birks have form'd a bow'r : Whene'er the sun grows high and warm. We'll to the cauler shade remove. There will I lock thee in my arms. And love and kiss, and kiss and love; m ro7 KATY*S ANSWER. My mlther's ay glowran o'er me. Though she did the same before me ; I canna get leave To look to my loove. Or else she'll be like to devour me. Right fain wad I take your offers Sweet sir, but I'll tine my tocher. Then, Sandy, ye'll fret. And wyte your poor Kate, Whene'er ye keek in your toom coffer. For, though my father has plenty Of siller, and plenishing dainty. Yet he's unco sweer To twin wi' his gear. And sae we had need to be tenty. Tutor my parents wi' caution. Be wylie in ilka motion ; Brag weel o' your land. And there's ray leal hand. Win them, I'll be at your devotion. HIGHLAND LADDIE. [By RA3ISAY.] The Lawland lads think they are fine; But O, they're vain and idly gaudy ! How much unlike that gracefii' mein. And manly looks of my Highland laddie .108 my botiny Highland laddie j My handsome charming Highland laddie ! May Heaven still guard, and love reward Our Ldwland lass and her Highland laddie ! If I were free at will to chusC;, To be the wealthiest Lawland lady, I'd tak young Donald without trews. With bonnet blue, and belted plaidy. O my honny, &c. The brawest beau in burrows- town. In a' his airs, with art made ready, Compar'd to him he's but a clown ; He's finer far in's tartan plaidy. O my bonny, &c. O'er benty hill with him I'll run. And leave my Lawland kin and daddy, Frae winter's cauld, and summer's sun. He'll screen me with his Highland plaidy. O my honny J &c. A painted room, aiid silken bed. May please a Lawland laird and lady ; But I can kiss, and be as glad,. , Behind a bush in's Highland plaidy. 7ny bonny, &c. Few compliments between us pass, I ca' him my dear Highland laddie. And he ca's me his Lawland lass. Syne rows me in beneath his plaidie. my bonny, &c. 109 Nae greater joy I'll e'er pretend, Than that his luve prove true and steady. Like mine to him, whicli ne'er shall end. While Heaven preserves my Highland laddie* my honnyj &c. THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. The Lawland maids gang trig and fine. But aft they're sour and unco saucy ; Sae proud, they never can be kind Like my good-humour'd Highland lassie^ O my bonny Highland lassie, My hearty smiling Highland lassie ; May never care make thee less fair, But bloom of youth still bless my lassie! Than ony lass in burrows-town, Wha mak their cheeks with patches mottle, I'd take my Katy but a gown. Bare-footed in her little coatie, O my bonny, &c. Beneath the brier, or brecken bush. Whene'er I kiss and court my dawtie ; Happy and blyth as ane wad wish. My flighteren heart gangs pittie pattie. O my bonny, &c. O'er highest hethery hills I'll sten. With cockit gun and ratches tenty. To drive the deer out of their den. To feast my lass on dishes dainty. my bonny, &c. K IJO Tliere'e nane shall dare by deed oi* word^ 'Ciainst her to wag a tongue or finger, Wliile I can wield iny trusty sword. Or frae my side whisk out a whiilger, O mi) bonny, &c. The mountains clad with purple bloom. And berries ripe, invite my treasure . To range with me; let great fowk gloom, While wealth and pride contbund their pleasure. my bonny, &c. THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS. [Written by Mr DrDGEDX, a iespectable farhier's softih Berwick* bhire. — Buiixs.] Up amang yon cliffy rocks. Sweetly rings the rising echo. To the maid that tends the goats. Lilting o'er her native notes. Hark, she sings, Young Sandy's kinci, And he's promis'd ay to lo'e me; Here's a brotch, I ne'er sliall tin'd, 'Till he's fairly married to me ; Drive aAvay, ye drone time. And bring about our bridal day. Sandy herds a flock o' sheep, Aften does he blaw the whistle. In a strain sae saftly sweet, Lamraies list'ning dare nae bleat ; Ill He!s as. fleet's the mountain roe, Hai'dy as the Highland heatlier. Wading thro' the winter snow. Keeping ay his flock together ; But a plaid, wi' bare houghs. He braves the bleakest, norlin blast. Brawly he can dance and sing Canty glee or Highland cronach; Nane can ever match his fling At a reel or round a ring ; Wightly can he wield a rung, In a brawl he's ay the bangster : A' his praise can ne'er be sung By the langest v/inded sangster. Sangs that sing o' Sandy. Come short, tho' they were e'er sa^ l^S* ►♦•^♦■v*** -vv* ItOSl^IN CASTLE. [By Mr Riqhahd Hewit, whom the celebrated Di Blackiyck kept for some years as an amanuensis. Th? air v as composed by Mr Oswald, a music-seller in London, who about the year 1 750 published a large, collection of Scotch tun«^, und When first her bonnie face I saw. And ay my Chloris' dearest charm. She says she lo'es me best of a*. Like harmony her n^jtion ; Her pretty ancle is a spy- Betraying fair proportion. Wad make a saint forget the sky. Sae warming, sae charming. Her fau'tless form and gracefu' air ; Ilk feature — auld Nature DeclarM that she could do nae mair : Her's are the willing chains o* love. By conquering beauty's sovereign law ;: And ay my Chloris' dearest chanrr. She says she Jo'cs mcbcst of a'. 115 Let others love the city. And gaudy shew at sunny noon ; Gie me the lonely valley. The de-wy eve, and rising moon Fair beaming, and streaming. Her silver light the boughs amang ; While falling, recalling, The amorous thrush concludes his sang : There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove By wirapling burn and leafy shaw. And hear my vows o' truth and love. And say thou lo'es me best of a'. *.».*/VV* X'% WW^/» THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. [By BuRxs.] Tune — This is no my ain house. O THIS is no m\j ain lassie, * Fair tho the lassie be ; weel ken I mif ain lassie. Kind love is in her c'e. I see a form, I see a face. Ye weel may wi' the fairest place : It wants to me the witching gi-ace. The kind love that's in her e'e. O this is no, &c. vShe's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, And lang has had my heart in thrall ; And ay it charms my very saul. The kind love that's in her e'e,. this is no, &c. 116 A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, To steal a blink, by a' unseen. But gleg as light are lovers' een. When kind love is in the e'e. O this is no, &c. It may escape the courtly spai-ks. It may escape the learned clerks; But weel.the watching lover marks^ The kind love that's in her. e'e. O this is no, &c. *0 WAT YE WHA'S IN YOX TOAVN. (By Burns. " The heroine of this song," says Dr Currie, ♦' Mrs O. (formerly Miss L. J.) died lately (1799) at Lisbon. This most accomplished and most lovely woman was wortliy of this beautiful strain of sensibility. Tiie song is written in the character of her husband."— JiuRXs's Works, vol. iv, 312.] O WAT ye wha's in yon town^ Ye see the e'en in sun upon. The fairest dame's in yon town. That e'enin sun is shining on. Now haply down yon gay green shaw. She wanders by yon spi^eading tree : IIow blest ye flowers that round her blaW;, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e. How blest ye birds that round her sing. And welcome in the blooming year^ And doubly welcome })e the spring. The season to my Lucy dear. • 117 The sun blinks blythe on yon towu. And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr ; But my delight in yon town. And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair. Without my love, not a' the charms O' Paradise could yield me joy ; But gie me Lucy in my arms. And welcome Lapland's dreary sky. My cave wad be a lover's bower, Tho' raging winter rent the air ; And she a lovely little flower. That r wad tent and shelter there. sweet is she in yon town. Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon ; A fairer than's in yon town. His setting beam ne'er shone upon. If angry fate is sworn my foe. And suffering I am doom'd to bear; 1 careless quit aught else below^ But spare me, spare me Lucy dear. For while life's dearest blood is warm, Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart. And she — as fairest is her form ! She has the truest kindest heart. JESSIE THE FLOWEIl O' DUMBLANE. [By Taxny Hill.] The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben Lomon, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene ; 118 ^Vhile lanely I stray on a. calm simmer gloamiiv 7'o muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Duniblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft faulding blossem ! And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green ; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom. Is lovely young Jessie, the flower. o',Dim)blane> Is lovely young Jessie^ &:Ci She's modest as ony, andblythe a^ she's bonnie. For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; Accurs'd be the villain, divestcsd o' feeling, Woud blight, in itS; bloom the;^ sweet flower o' Duni- blane. Sing on, thou «weet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou'rt dear to the echoes of Calder-wood glen ; Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless an' winning. Is chamiing young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. Is clianning 1/oung Jesdej &c. How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessie, The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain ; I ne'er saw a nymph I could call my dear lassie. Till charm'd wi' young Jessie the flower o' Dumblane. Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, Amid'st it's profusion I'd languish in pain. An' reckon as- naething the height o' it's splendour. If wanting) sweet Jessie, the fl6wcr o' Dumblane. If n anting stveel Jessie, Sec. HY NANNIE, O, [By Burns.] Tune — Ml/ Nannie, O, Behind yon hills where Lugar flows, 'Mang moova an' mosses uiuny, O, lit) The wintry sun the day has clos't!. And I'll awa to Nannie, O. The westhn wind blaws loud an' shill ; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O ; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steid;, An' owre the hill to Nannie, O. My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young ; Nae ai-tfu' wiles to Avin ye, O : May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nannie, O. Her face is fair, her heart is trtie. As spotless as she's bonnie, O ; The op'ning gowan, wet Avi' dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O. A country lad is my degi-ee. An' few there be that ken me, O ; But what eare I how few they be, I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O. . My riches a's my penny-fee. An' I maun guide it cannie, O ; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me. My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O. Our auld guidman tklights to view His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O ; But I'm as blythe that bauds his pleugh. An' has nae care but Nannie, C). Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I'll tak' whai Heav'n Avill sen' me, O ; Nae itlier care in life have I, But live an' love my Nannie, O. 120 DUMBAKTON DRUMS. Dumbarton's drums beat bonny, O, When they mind me of my dear Johnny, O^ How happy am I, When my soldier is by. While he kisses and blesses his Annie, O ! 'Tis a soldier alone can delight me, O, For his graceful looks do invite me, O : W^hile guarded in his arms, I'll fear no war's alarais. Neither danger nor death shall e'er fright me, O. My love is a handsome laddie, O, Genteel, but ne'er foppish nor gaudy, O : Tho' commissions are dear. Yet I'll buy him one this year ; For he shall serve no longer a cadle, O. A soldier has honour and bravery, O, Unacquainted with rogues and their knavery, O ; He minds no other thing But the ladies or the king ; For every other care is but slav'ry, O. Then I'll be a captain's lady, O ; Farewell all my friends, and my daddy, O ; I'll wait no more at home. But I'll follow with the drum. And whene'er that beats I'll be ready, O. Dumbarton's drums sound bonny, O, They are sprightly like my dear Johnny, O : How happy shall I be. When on my soldier's knee. And he kisses and blesses his Annie, O ♦ 121 THE SOGER LADDIE. [Tiie first verse of this is old ; the rest is by Ramsay. — Burns-.] jNIy soger laddie is over the sea. And he will bring gold and money to me ; And when he comes hame, he'll make me a lady. My blessings gang wi' my soger laddie. My doughty laddie is handsome and brave. And can as a soger and lover behave ; True to his country ; to love he is steady ; There's few to compare with my soger laddie. Shield him, ye angels ! frae death in alarms. Return him with laurels to my longing ai-ms. Syne frae all my care ye'll presently free me. When back to my wishes my soger ye gie me. O ! soon may his honours bloom fair on his brow^ As quickly they must, if he get his due : For in noble actions his courage is ready. Which makes me delight in my soger laddie. O ER BOGIE. [By Ramsay.] I WILL awa rv'i my love, I will awa wi' her, Tho' a' my kin had sworn and said, I'll o'er Bogie wi' her, L 122 If I can get but lier consent, ^ I dinna care a strae Though ilka ane be discontent^ Awa wi' her I'll gae. / will awa, &c. For now she's mistress of my heart. And wordy of my hand. And w ell I wat we shanna part For siller or for land. Let rakes delight to swear and drink. And beaus admire fine lace ; But my chief pleasure is to blink On Betty's bonnie face, / will awttj &c. There a' the beauties do combine, Of colour, traits, and air ; The saul that sparkles in her een Maks her a jewel rare ; Her flowing wit gives shining life To a' her other charms ; How blest I'll be when she's my wife. And lock'd up in my aims ! / will awa, &c. There blythly W'ill I rant and sing. While o'er her sweets I range, I'll cry. Your humble servant, king. Shame fa' them that wad change. A kiss of Betty and a smile. Albeit ye wad lay down The right ye hae to Britain's isle, And offer me your crown. / will awa, &c. 123 KIND ROBIN LO'ES ME. Robin is my only jo, Robin has the art to lo'e. So to his suit I mean to bow. Because I ken he lo'es me. Happy, happy was the show'r. That led me to his birken bow'r, Whare first of love I fand the pow'r. And kend that Robin lo'ed me. They speak of napkins, speak of rings, Speak of gloves and kissing strings. And name a thousand bonny things. And ca' them signs he lo'es me. But I'd prefer a smack of Rob, Sporting on the velvet fog. To gifts as lang's a plaiden wob. Because I ken he lo'es me. He's tall and sonsy, frank, and free, Lo'ed by a', and dear to me, Wi' him I'd live, wi' him I'd die. Because my Robin lo'es me. My titty Mary said to me, Our courtship but a joke wad be. And I, or lang, be made to see. That Robin did na lo'e me. But little kens she what has been Me and my honest Rob between. And in his wooing, O so keen Kind Robin is that lo'es me. 124 Then fly, ye lazy hours, away. And hasten on the happy day. When, Join your hands. Mess John shall say^ And mak him mine that lo'es me. Till then, let ev'ry chance unite. To weigh our love, and fix delight, And ril look down on such wi' spite. Who doubt that Robin lo'es me. O hey, Robin, quo' she, O hey, Robin, quo' she, O hey, Robin, quo* she. Kind Robin lo'es me. •*-VV-V*/»X'%.V\.*/». SANDY O'ER THE LEE. I wiNNA many ony man but Sandy o'er the lee, I winna marry ony man but Sandy o'er the lee ; I winna hae the dominie, for gude he canna be. But I A^ill hae my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the lee^ For he's aye a kissing, kissing, aye a kissing vie, lies aye a kissing, kissing, aye a kissing me. I winna hae the minister for a' his godly looks. Nor yet will I the lawyer hae, for a' his wily crooks : I winna hae the ploughman lad, nor yet will I the miller. But I will hae my Sandy lad, without ae penny siller. For he's aye a kissing, kissing, Sec. I winna hae the soger lad, for he gangs to the war, I winna hae the sailor lad, because he smells of tar ; I winna hae the lord nor laird, for a' their meikle gear,. But I will hae my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the moor. For I/c'.s ai/c a kissiyfg, kissing, Ser lips I kid, The blush upon her cheeks soon spread; She whisper'd modestly, and said, O Pate, I'll stay in Gowrie I The auld folks soon gae their consent. Syne for Mess Joim they quickly sent, Wha ty'd them to their heart's content, Ancf now she's Lady Gowrie. 139 LASSIE Wr THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. [By Burns.] Tune — Rothemurchcs rant. Lassie vn the lint-white locks, Bonnie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi me tent the flocks. Wilt thou be rm/ dearie ! Now Nature deeds the flowery lea. And a' is young and sweet like thee ; O wilt thou share its joys wi' me. And say thoult be my dearie O ? Lassie rvi', &c. And when the welcome simmer-shower Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower. We'll to the breathing woodbine bower At sultry noon, my dearie O. iMSsie wi', &c. When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray. The weary shearer's hameward way ; Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray, iVnd talk o' love, my dearie O. Lassie wi'. Sec. And when the hoAvling wintry blast. Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest ; Enclasped to my faithfu* bi^ast, I'll comfort thee, my dearie O. Lassie, 7vi', &c. HO THE GRAY COCK. SAW ye my father, or saw ye my mither. Or saw ye my true love John ? 1 saw not your father, I saw not your mither. But I saw your true love John. It's now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light. And the bells they ring, ding dong ; He's met wi' some delay, that causeth him to stay. But he will be here ere long. The surly auld carl did naething but snarl. And Johnny's face it grew red ; Yet, tho' he often sigh'd, he ne'er a word reply'd. Till all were asleep in bed. Up Johnny rose, and to the door he goes. And gently tirled the pin ; The lassie taking tent, unto the door she went. And she open'd, and let him in. And are ye come at last, and do I hold ye fast. And is my Johnny true ! I have nae to time tell, but sae lang's I like mysell, Sae lang shall I like you. Flee up, flee up, my bonny gray cock. And craw when it is day ; Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold. And your wings of the silver gray* 141 The cock prov'd false, and untrue he was, For he crew an hour o'er soon ; The lassie thought it day, when she sent her love away. And it was but a blink of the moon. kV But I wad hae Jamie wi's bonnet in's hand. Before I'd hae Sandy wi' houses and land^ He saidy &c. My daddy looks sulky, my minny looks soui^ They frown upon Jamie because he is poor ; But daddy and minny, altho' that they be, There's nane o' them a' like my Jamie to me. He saidj &,c. 1 sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel. And think on the laddie that loo'd me sae Weel; He had but a sixpence, he brak it in twa, And he gied me the ha'f o't when he gaed awa\ Then hade ye hack, Jamie, and bide na arva'y Then haste ye hack, Jamie, and bide na awa ; Simmer is coming, canld 7vi7iier's awa\ And ye'll come and see me in spite o' them a\ %^m/%n/%M^^y.^^/^ LOW DOWN IN THE BROOM. jMy daddy is a canker'd carle. He'll nae twine wi' his gear; My minny she's a scalding wife, Hads a' the house a-steer : But let thc7n say, or let ihein do. It's a' ane to me ; Tor he's low down, he's in the broom. That's waiting on me: Waiting on me, my love. He's 7vaiting on me. For he's low down, he's in the hromn, That's 7vaiiing on me. 187 My aunty Kate sits at her wheet. And sair she lightlies me ; But weel ken I it's a' envy. For ne'er a jo has she. But let them say, Sec. My cousin Kate was sair beguil'd Wi' Johnnie f the glen ; And ay sinsyne she cries, Beware Of false deluding men. But let them saj/, &c. Gleed Sandy he came wast ae night. And speer'd when I saw Pate ; And ay sinsyne the neighbours round They jeer me air and late. But let them say, &c. %^%/WW«V^V<% O FOR ANE AND TWENTY, TAM ! [By Burns.] Tune — The Moudieivort, An 0, for ane atid twenty, Tarn! An hey, sweet ane and twenty, Tarn! I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang, An I saw ane and twenty, Tarn, They snool me sair, and haud me down. And gar me look like bluntie, Tam ! But three short years will soon wheel roun*. And then comes ane and twenty, Tam. An Ojfor ane, &c. A ^leib o' Ian'', a claut o' gear, Was left me by my auntie. Tarn ; At kith or kin I need na spier, An I saw ane and twenty, Tarn. An Ojfor ane, ike. They'll hae me, wed a wealthy coof, Tho' I mysel hae plenty. Tarn ; But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof, I'm thine at ane and twenty. Tarn ! An 0,for ane, &c. THE BONIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA, [By BuRxs.] O HOW can I be blythe and glad. Or how can I gang brisk and braw^ "Wlien the bonie lad that I lo'e best Is o'er the hills and far awa ? Its no the frosty winter wind. Its no the driving drift and snaw -^ But ay the tear comes in my e'e. To think on him that's far awa. My father pat me frae his door. My friends they hae disown'd mc a' ; But I hae ane will tak my part. The bonie lad that's far awa. A pair o* gloves he gave to m^. And silken snoods he gave mc twa ; And I will wear them for his sake. The bonie lad that's far awa. 1S9 The weary winter soon will pass. And spring will deed the birken-shaw j And my sweet babie will be born. And he'll come hame that's far awa. ^^%^V«/«»«%^ WANDERING WILLIE. [By Bunys.] Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Here awa, there awa, hand awa hame ; Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie. Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting. Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e. Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie ; The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Tlcst, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, 1 low your dread howling a lover alarms ! Wauken ye breezes, row gently ye billows, And wal't my dean laddie ance mair to my arms. But oh, if lies faithless, and minds na his Nanie, Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main I May 1 never see it, may I never trow it. But, dying, behcve that my ^Vi^lit•'^i my ain. 197 LOGAN BRAES. By Logan's streams that run sae deep^ Fu aft wi' glee I've herded sheep,-— Herded sheep, or gather'd slaes, Wi' my dear lad on Logan braes. But Avae's my heart these days are gane. And I wi' grief may herd alane, While my dear lad maun face his fues. Far, far frae me, and Logan braes. Nae mair at Logan kirk will he, Atween the preachings meet wi' me ; Meet wi' me, or when its mirk. Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk. Well may I sing these days are gane, Fr^e kirk or fair I come alane ; W^hile my dear lad maun face his faes. Far, far frae me, and Logan braes. THE Banks of the dee. [By Mr John Home, author of the tragedy of Douglas.] T une — Latigolee, 'TwAS simimer, and softly the breezes were blowing. And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree. At the foot of a rock, where the river was flowing^ I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee. Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river; Thy banks' purest streams shall be dear to me ever ; For there I first gain'd the affeetion and favour Of Sandy, the glory and pride of the Deo. 108 But now he's gone from me, and left me thus mourning, To quell the proud rebels, for valiant is he ; And, ah ! there's no Iiope of his speedy returning. To wander again on the banks of the Dee. He's gone, helpless youth ! o'er the rude roaring billows; The kindest and SAveetest of all the gay fellows ; And left me to stray 'mongst the once-loved willows. The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee. But time and my pray'rs may perhaps yet restore him; Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me ; And when he returns, with such care III watch o'er liim. He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee. The Dee then shall floAV, all its beauties displaying ; The lambs on its banks shall a^ain be seen playing ; While I with my Sand}-- am car<»lessly straying, And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee. THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER. [By Tanny Hill.] Tune — Bonny Dundee. Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, The auld wa's and turrets are cover'd wi' snaw ; ] low changed sin the days that I met wi' my lover Amang the green bushes by Stanley-green shaw ! The wild flow'r o' simmer was springing sae bonny ; The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But far to the camp they hae march'd aff my Johnife ; And now k is winter wi' nature and me. 199 Theii ilk tiling around us ^vas blythsome and cheerie ; Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw : Now naething is heard but the wind whistling drearie ; Now naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw. The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie. They shake the cauld drift frae their wdngs as they flee; They chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnie ; 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me. Yon cauld sleety cloud as it skiffs the bleak mountain. And shakes the dark furs on its stey rock)'- brae, While down the deep glen bawls the sna'-floodetl fountain. That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me. 'Tis no the loud roar o' the wint'ry wind swelling ; 'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tear i' my e'e ; For O gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan. The dark days o' winter were simmer to mc. THE LOWLANDS OF HOLLAND. My }cfve has built a bonny ship, and set her on the sea. With sevenscore good mariners to bear her company ; There's threescore is sunk, and tlireescore dead at sea. And the Lowlands of Holland has tvvin'd my love a^d My love he built another ship, and set her on the main. And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame ; But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout. My love then and his bonny ship turn'd withershins about. 200 Tllere shall neither coif come on my head, nor comb come in my hair. There shall neither coal nor candle light shine in my bower mair ; Nor will I love another one, until the day I die : For I never lov'd a love but one, and he's drown'd in the sea. O had your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content ; There are mah* lads in Galloway, ye need nae sair la- ment. O ! there is nane in Galloway, there's nane at a' for me : For I never lov'd a love but ane^ and he's drown'd in the sea. AULD ROBIN GRAY. [Written by Lady Ann Lindsay, daughter to the late Earl of Balcarras.] Tune — The Bridegroom greets. When the sheep are in the fauld and the kyeat hame. And a' the weary warld to rest are gane ; The waes of my heart fa' in show'rs frae rfty e'e. While my gudeman lyes sound by me. Young Jamie loo'tl me weel, and he sought me for his bride. But saving a crown, he had naething beside; To mak' that crown a pound, my Jamie gade to sea. And the cro-wn and the pound were baith for me. 201 He had na been awa a week but only twa. When my mither she fell sick, and the cow was stoun away ; My father brak' his arm, and my Jamie at the sea. And auld Robin Gray came a courting me. My father coudna work, and my mother coudna spin, I toil'd day and night, but their bread I coudna win ; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his ee. Said, Jenny, for their sakes, O 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 wreck : The ship it was a wreck, why didna Jenny die ? And why do I live to say, VVae's me ? My father argued sair, tho' my mother didna speak. She look'd in my face till my heart was like to break ; So they gied him my hand, tho* my heart was in the sea,^ And auld Robm Gray is gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four. When sitting sae mournfully ae night at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I coudna think it he. Till he said, I'm come back for to marry thee. sair did we greet, and muckle did we say. We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away : 1 wish I were dead ! but I'm no like to die ; And why do I live to say, Wae's me? I gang like a ghaist, and carena to spin ; I darena think on Jamie, for that would be a sin ; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be. For auld Robin Gray is kind unto be. 802 MARY'S DREAM. [Written by Mr Alex. Lowe, who lived for some time at Airds ' in Galloway, from whence he went to North America. The Mary alluded to is supposed to be Miss Mary Macghie, daugh- ter oif the proprietor of Airds— Burns.] The moon had elimb'd the highest hill Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed Her silver light on tow'r and tree. When Mary laid her down to sleep. Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea ; When soft and low a voice was heard. Say, Mary, weep no more for me ! She from her pillow gently rais'd Her head, to ask who there might be ? She saw young Sandy shiv'ring stand. With visage pale and hollow eye : O Mary, dear ! cold is my clay ; It lies beneath a stormy sea ; Far, fer from thee I sleep in death ; So, Mary, weep no more for me ! Three stormy nights and stormy days^. We toss'd upon the raging main ; And long we strove our bark to save. But all our striving was in vain. Ev'n then, when horror chill'd my blood. My heart was fiU'd with love for thee : The storm is past, and I at rest. So, Mary, weep no more for mr? 203 O maiden, dear ! thyself prepare. We soon shall meet upon that shore. Where love is free from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more. Loud crow'd the cock, the shadow fled ; No more of Sandy could she see ; But soft the passing spirit said. Sweet Mary, weep no more for me ! THE AVAEFU HEART. Gin living worth cou'd win my heait. You wou'd na speak in vain. But in the darksome grave it's laid. Never to rise again. My waefu' heart lies low wi' his Whose heart was only mine ; And oh ! what a heart was that to lose; But I maun no repine. Yet oh ! gin Heav'n in mercy soon Wou'd grant the boon I crave. And tak this life, now naething worth Sin Jamie's in his grave. And see ! his gentle spirit come To show me on my way. Surprised, nae doubt, I still am here, Sair wond'ring at my stay, I come, I come, my Jamie dear ; And oh ! wi' what gude will I follow, wharsoe'er ye lead. Ye canna lead to ill. 204. Siio said, and soon a deadly pale Her faded cheek possest ; Her waefii' heart forgot to beat ; Her sorrows sunk to rest. HIGHLAND MARY. [By liunxs, in Temembrance of liis last interview with 3iary Campbell. Vide supra, p. 183.] Tune — Katharine Ogie. Ve banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers. Your waters never di-umlie ! There simmer first unfald Iier robes. And there the langest tarry : For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk. How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasp'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' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace. Our parting was fu' tender ; And, pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asimder ; 20j But Oh ! fell death's untimely frost. That nipt my flower sac early ! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay^ That wraps my Highland Mary I O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance. That dwalt on me sae 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 Maiy. «/«.V«''V^'V «.'«/«.'« MY MARY, DEAR DEPARTED SHADE. |This sublime elegy was composed by Burns, under great agita- tion of mind, on the anniversary of the death of his beloved Mary Campbell. Vide sj/pra, p. 251.] Tune — Captain Cook's death, S^c, Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray. That lov'st to greet the early morn. Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breasts That sacred hour can I forget. Can I forget the hallow'd grove. Where, by the winding Ayr, we met To live one day of parting love I s 906 Eternity cannot efface Those records dear of transports past ; Thy image at our last embrace, Ah, little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild-woods thick'ning green ; The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorons round the raptur'd scene : The flowers sprang wanton to be prest. The birds sang love on every spray. Till too, too soon the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. 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 ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? MAUN I STILL ON MENIE DO AT. [By BuRXS. The chorus is part of a song composed by a gen- tleman of Edinbmgh, a particular friend of the bard's.] Tunc — Johnny's gray-breehs. Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues. Her leafy locks wave in the breeze. All freshly steep'd in morning dewe^ 207 And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e ! An it winna lei a bodjj be ! In vain to me the cowslips blaw. In vain to me the vi'lets spring ; In vain to me, in glen or shaw. The mavis and the lintwliite sing. And maun I still, &c. The merry ploughboy cheers his team^ Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks. But life to me's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. And maun I still, &c. The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry. The stately swan majestic swims. And ev'ry thing is blest but I. And maun I still, &c. The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap. And owre the moorlands whistles shill, Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step I meet him on the dewy hill. And maun I still, &c. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Blythe waukens by the daisy's side. And mounts and sings on flittering wing^s, ; A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide, And maun I still, &c^ 208 Come winter, with tliine angry howl. And raffin The laird's wys't away my braw Highland laddie, O ; Misty are the glens, and the dark hills sae cloudy, O, That ay seem't sae blythe wi' my dear Highland laddie, O. The blae-berry banks now are lonesome and dreary, O, Muddy are the streams that gush'd down sae clearly, O, Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O, The wild-melting strains o' my dear Highland laddie, O. Oh ! love is like the morning, sae gladsome and bonny, O, Till winds fa' a-storming, and clouds low'r sae rainy, O: As nature in winter droops withering sae sadly, O, Sae lang may I mourn for my dear Highland laddie, O. 211 He's pu'd me the crawberry ripe frae the scroggre glen, He's pu'd me the strawbeiTy ripe frae the foggy fen. He's pu'd me the rowan frae the wild steep sae gaudy, O, Sae loving and kind was my dear Highland laddie, O. Farewell my ewes, and farewell my dogie, O, Farewell Glenfiach, my mammy, and my daddy, O, Farewell ye mountains, sae cheerless and cloudy, O, Where aft I have been wi' my dear Highland laddie, O. *^»^v*-v%.%^%^v* YOUNG ALLAN. [By Richard Gall, a young man of promising genius. He was bred to the printing profession, which consequently en- grossed much of his time and attention ; his leisure hours he devoted to the cultivation of Ms mind, which he improved con- siderably, but the bent of his inclination was directed to Scottish poetry, in which, we are assured by those who have inspected his unpublished poems, he would probably have attained to no ordinary celebrity, had not an abscess broke out in* his breast, that cut him off in May 1801, in the twenty-fifth year of his age. He was the friend and correspondent of Burns, and lived in terms of the greatest intimacy with M'Neill, to whom he addressed an episUe, prefixed to the works of that ingenious poet.] The sun in the west fa's to rest in the e'enin**; Ilk morn blinks cheerfu' upon the green lee ; But, ah ! on the pillow o' sorrow ay leanin', Nae mornin' nae e'enin' brings pleasure to me, O ! waefu' the parting, when, smiling at danger. Young Allan left Scotia to meet wi' the fae ; Cauld, cauld now he lies in a land amang strangers^. Frae friends, and frae Heleji for ever away. 212 As the alk en the mountain resists the blast rairin', Sae did he the brunt o' the battle sustain. Till treach'ry arrested his courage sae darin'. And laid him pale, lifeless upon the drear plain. Cauld winter the flower divests o' its cleidin'. In simmer again it blooms bonny to gee ; But naething, alas ! can e'er hale my heart bleidin'. Drear winter remaining for ever wi' me. MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O. [By Richard Gall.] Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue. My only jo and dearie, O ; Thy neck is like the siller dew Upon the bank sae brierie, O : Thy teeth are o' tlie ivory, O sweet's the twinkle o' thine e'e ! Nae joy, nae pleasure blinks on me^ My only jo and dearie, O. The birdie sings upon the thorn Its sang o' joy, fu cheerie, O, Rejoicing in the simmer morn, Nae care to mak it eerie, O : But little kens the sangster sweet Aught ©' the care I hae to meet. That gars m} restless bosom beat^ My only jo and dearie, O. "When we were bairnies on yon brae. And youth was blinkin bonny, O, Aft we wad daff the lee lang day, Oui- joys fu' sweet and raony, O, 913 Aft I wad chase thee o*er the h^ Or pu' the wild flowers a* for thee. My only jo and dearie, O. I hae a wish I canna tine, 'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, O, A wish that thou wert ever mine. And never mair to leave me, O ! Then I wad daut thee night and day, Nae ither warl'ly care wad hae. Till life's warm stream forgot to play, My only jo and dearie, O. MY ANNA. [By Richard Gall.] How sweet is the scene at the dawning o' morning ! How fair ilka object that lives in the view ! Dame Nature the valley and hillock adorning ; The primrose and blue-bells yet wet wi' the dew. How sweet in the morning o' life is my Anna ! Her smile like the sun-beam that glents o'er the lee ! To wander and leave her, dear lassie, I canna, Frae love and frae beauty I never can flee. O ! lang hae I lo'ed her, and lo'e her fu* dearly. And aft hae I preed o' her bonny sweet mou' ; ' And aft hae I read, in her e'e blinkin' clearly, A language that bade me be constant and true ! Then others may doat on their fond warl'ly treasure. For pelf, silly pelf, they may brave the rude sea ; To love my sweet lassie be mine the dear pleasure, Wi' her let me live, and wi' her let me die ! 2U ^'"^lE -WEE THING. [By H. Macneill, Esq.] Saw ye niy wee thing ? saw ye mine ain thing ? Saw ye my true love down by yon lee ; Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloaming ? Sought she the burnie whar flow rs the haw- tree ? Her hair it is lint-white ; her skin it is milk-white ; Dark is the blue o' her saft rolling ee ; Red, red her ripe lips ! And sweeter than roses :— Whar could my wee thing wander frae me ? I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing. Nor saw I your true love down by yon lee ; But I met my bonny thing late in the gloaming, Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw-tree. Her hair it was lint- white ; her skin it was milk-white Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling ee; Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses : Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me ! It was nae my wee thing ; it was nae my ain thing. It was nae my true love ye met by the tree : Proud is her leel heart ! modest her nature \ She never loo'd ony till ance she loo'd me. Her name it is Mary ; she's frae Castle- Gary : Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee :— • Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer. Young bragger, she ne'er wad gie kisses to tliee ! It was then your Mary ; she's frae Castle-Caiy ; It was then your true love I met by the tree : Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature. Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me. ^15 Sail' gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew. Wild flash'd the fire frae his red-rolling ee !— Ye's rue sair, this morning, your boasts and your scorn* ing: Defend ye, fause traitor ! fu loudly ye lie. Awa wi' beguiling, cried the youth, smiling.—- AfF went the bonnet ; the lint-white locks flee : The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing. Fair stood the lov'd maid wi' the dark rolling ee I Is it my wee thing ! is it mine ain thing ! Is it my true love here that I see ! O Jamie, forgi'e me ; your heart's constant to me ; I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee ! THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR. [By Mr RoBtRT Crawford of Auchinames.^ Hear me, ye nymphs, and ev'ry swain, I'll tell how Peggy grieves me ; Though thus I languish, thus complain^ Alas ! she ne'er believes me : My vows and sighs, like silent air. Unheeded never move her ; At the bonny bush aboon Traquair, 'Twas there I first did love her. That day she smil'd, and made me glad. No maid seem'd ever kinder ; I thought myself the luckiest lad. So sweetiy there to find her : 216 I try'd to sooth my am'rous flame. In words that I thought tender ; If more there pass'd, I'm not to blamC;, I meant not to offend her. Yet now she scornful flees the plain;, The fields we then frequented ; If e'er we meet, she shews disdain. She looks as ne'er acquainted. The bonny bush bloom'd fair in May, Its sweets I'll ay remember; But now her frowns make it decay. It fades as in December. Ye rural powers, who hear my strains^ Why thus should Peggy grieve me ? Oh ! make her partner in my pains. Then let her smiles relieve me : If not, my love will turn despair. My passion nae mair tender ; I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair, To lonely wilds I'll wander. %/kW%/VX/»^/«'V<»^/». FOR THE LACK OF GOLD. [By the late Dr Austin, physician in Edinburgh, on the mar- TiSige of Jean, daughter of John Drummond of Megginich, Esq. to James Duke of Atholl, on whose death she married General Lord Adam Gordon, whose widow she died at Edinburgh about 1800.] For he lack of gold she's left me, O, And of all that's dear bereft me, O ; She me forsook for a great duke, And to <;ndless woes she's left me, O. 21 r A ai&v and gailer have more art. Than youth, a true and faithful heart ; For empty titles we must pai% And for glitt 'ring show she's left me, O. No cruel fair shall e'er more move My injured heart again to love ; Through distant climates I must rove, Since Jeany she has left me, O. Ye pow'rs above ! I to your care Give up my charming lovely fair ; Your choicest blessings be her share, Tho' she's for ever left me, O. TLL CHEAK UP MY HEART. -i\s I was walking ae May morning. The fiddlers an' youngsters were making their game And there I saw my faithless lover. And a' my sorrows return'd again. Well since he is gane, joy gang wi' him ; It's ne'er be he shall gar me complain : I'll chear up my heart, and I will get another ; I'll never lay a' my love upon ane. I could na get sleeping yestreen for weeping, The tears ran down like showers o' rain ; An' had na I got greiting my heart wad a broken ; And O ! but love's a toniienting pain. But since he is gane, may joy gae Vv'i' him ; It's never be he that shall gar me complain : I'll chear up my heart, and I will get another ; I'll never lay a' my love upon ane. T 218 Wlien I gaJe into my mitlier's new liouse, I took my wheel and sat down to spin ; 'Twas there I first began my thrift ; And a' tlie Avooers came linking in. It was gear he was seeking, but gear he'll na get; And its never be he that shall gar me complain : For I'll cliear up my heart, and I'll soon get another; I'll never lay a' my love upon ane. MY HEART'S MY AIN. 'Tis nae very lang sinsyne. That I had a lad o' my ain ; But now he's awa to anither. And left me a' my lain. The lass he's courting hiis siller. And I hae nane at a' ; And 'tis nought but the love of the tocher That's tane my lad awa, Cut I'm blyth that my heart's ain. And I'll keep it a' my life. Until that I meet wi' a lad Who has sense to wale a good wife. For thovigh I say't mysell, That shou'd nae say't, 'tis true, The lad that gets me for a wife. He'll ne'er hae occasion to rue. I gang ay fou clean and fou tosh, As a' the neighbours can tell ; Tho' I've seldom a gown on my back. But sic as I spin mj^seU : 10 And when I'm clad in ray curtsey^ I think mysell as braw As Susie, wi' a' lier pearling. That's tane my lad awa. But I wish they were buckled together. And may they live happy for life; Tho' Willie does slight me, and's left iicvc. The chield he deserves a good wife. But, O ! I'm blyth that I've miss'd hira. As blyth as I weel can be ; For ane that's sae keen o' the siller Will ne'er agree wi' me. But as the truth is, I'm hearty, I hate to be scrimpit and scant; The wee thing I hae I'll make use o% And nae ane about me shall want : For I'm a good guide o* the warld, I ken when to ha'd and to gi'e ; For whinging and cringing for siller Will ne'er agree wi* me. Contentment is better than riches. An' he wha has that has enough ; The master ie seldom sae happy As Robin that drives the plough. But if a young lad wou'd cast up. To make me his partner for life. If the chield has the sense to be happy^ He'll fa' on his feet for a wife. 220 TIBBIE, I IIAE SEEN THE DAY [By Burns,] Tune — Invercald's Heel. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye would nae heen sae shy ; For laik o* gear ye lightly me. But, irowlh, I care na by. Yestreen I met you on the moor. Ye spak na, but gaed by h'ke stoure : Ye geek at me because I'm poor. But fient a hair care I. Tihhic, I hae, &c. .r I doubt na, lass, but ye nray think,. Because ye hae the name o' cHnk, That ye can please me at a wink. Whene'er ye like to try. O Tibbie, I hae, &c. But soiTow tak him that's sae mean, Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, \Vha follows ony saucy quean That looks sae proud and high. Tibbie, I hae, S:c. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart. If tliat he want the yellow dirt, Ye'Il cast your head anither airt>. And answer liim fu' dry. Tibbie, J hae, &'C. 221 But If lie hae the name o' gear, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, • Tho' hardly he for sense or lear, . Be better than the kye. O Tibbie, I liac, &c. But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice. Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice ; The deil a ane wad spier your price. Were ye as poor as I. O Tibbie, I hae, &c. There lives a lass in yonder park, I would nae gie her in her sark. For thee wi' a* thy thousan' mark ; Ye need na look sae high» O Tibbie,! Mc, &c. " MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. [By BuRXS,] CJ MEiKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty. And melkle thinks my luve o' my kin • But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie. My tocher's the jewel has charms for him* It's a' for the apple he'll nourisli the tree ; It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee, My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller. He canna hae luve to spare for me. Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny. My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy ; But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin, Sae ye wi' atiither your fortune maun trv. T 3 222 Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, Ye're like to the bark o* yon rotten tree, Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread. And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me. SHE S FAIU AND FAUSE. [By Burns.] She's fair and fause that causes my smart, I lo'ed her meikle and lang ; She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart. And I may e'en gae hang-. A coof cam in wi' rowth o' gear. And I hae tint my dearest dear, But woman is but warld's gear, Sae let the bonnic lass gang. Whae'er )'e be that woman love. To this be never blind, Nae ferlie 'ti* tho' fickle slie prove, A woman has't by kind : O woman, lovely, woman fair ! An angel form's faun to thy share, 'Twad been o'er meikle to gi'en thee mair, I mean an angel mind. ROY'S WIFE OF ALDIVALOCIT. [By Mrs Grant of C****n.] Hoy's wife of Aldivaloch, Roy's wife of Aldivaloc/i, Wat ye how she cheated me. As I came o'n- the braes of Balloch f 223 She vov/'d, slie swore she wad be mine ; She said she lo'ed nie best of ony ; But oh ! the fickle, faithless quean. She's ta'en the carl, and left her Johnie. Roij's rvifc, Sec. O she was a canty quean. And weel coii'd ^ance the Highland wallach ; How happy I, had she been mire. Or I'd been Roy of Aldivaloch. liot/'s ivife, &c. Her hair's sae fair, her een's sae clear. Her wee bit mou's sae sweet and bonny^ To me she ever will be dear, Tho' she's for ever left her Johnie. Roy's wife, &c. COME UNDER MY PL A ID Y. [By H. M'Neill, Esq.] Tune— Jo/^«^e M'Gill Come under my plaidy, the night's gaun to fa'; Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw ; Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me ; I'heie's room in't, dear lassie ! believe me, for twa. Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me, ril hap ye frae every cauld blast that will blaw : O ! come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me. There's room in't^ dear lassie ! believe me, for twa. 224 Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy ! auld Donald, gae Va^ I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw ; Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy ! I'll no sit beside ye ; Ye may be niy gutcher, auld Donald, gae 'wa : — I'm gaun to meet Johnie, he's young and he's bonie,. He's been at Meg's bridal, sae trig and sae braw; nane dances sae lightly ! sae graccfu' ! sae tightly ! His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw ! Dear Marfon, let that flee stick fast to the wa*. Your Jock's but a gowk, and has naithing ava ; The hale o' his pack he has now on his back. He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa. Be frank now and kindly ; I'll busk you aye finely ; At kirk or at market they'll nane gang sae braw ; A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in. And flunkies to 'tend you as alV as ye ca'. My father's ay tauld me, my mither and a', Ye'd mak a gude husband, and keep me aye braw It's true I loo Johnie, he's gude and he's bonie, But, waes me ! ye ken he has naething ava ! 1 hae little tocher ; you've made a gude offer ; Fm now mair than twenty ; my time is but sma" I Sae gi'e me your plaidy, I'll creep in beside ye, I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa. She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa', Whar Johnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a' ; The day was appointed ! — his proud heart it dunted. And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa. He wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary .' And thowless, he tint his gate deep 'mang the snaw; The howlet was screaming, Avhile Johnie cried. Women Wad marry auld Nick if lie'd keep tliem aye braw !-^ 225 O the deel's in llie lasses ! they gang now sae braw. They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa ; Tlie hale o' their marriage is gowd and a carriage ; Plain hive is the cauldest blast now that can blaw ! ^/«.% •VW'V-WX *-< SLIGHTED Nz\NSY. Tune — The Kirk wad let me be, 'Tis I have seven braw new gowns. And ither seven better to mak. And yet for a' my new gowns, -■ My wooer has turn'd his back. Besides I have seven milk ky. And Sandy he has but three ; And yet for a' ray good ky. The laddie winna ha'e me. My dadie's a delver of dikes. My mither can card and spin. And I am a fine fodgei lass. And the siller comes link in in ; The siller comes linkin in. And it is fou fair to see. And fifty times wow ! O wow ! What ails the lads at me ? Whenever our Baty does bark. Then fast to the door I rin. To see gin ony young sp^u-k Will light and venture but in: But never a ane will come in, Tho' many a ane gaes by. Syne far ben the house I rin. And a weaYy v/iglit am I. 22a When I was at my first prayers, I pray'd but anes i' the year, I wisli'd for a handsome young lad. And a lad Avith muckle gear. When I was at my neist prayers, I pray'd but now and than, I fash'd na my head about gear. If I got a handsome young man. Now when I'm at my last prayers, I pray on baith night and day. And O ! if a beggar wad come. With that same beggar I'd gae. And O ! and whatll come o'^me ? And O ! and what'U I dor? That sic a braw lassie as I Shou'd die for a wooer I trow ? BESS THE GAWKIE. Blyth young iBess to Jean did say, WiU ye gang to yon sunny brae, W^here flocks do feed, and herds da stray. And sport a while wi' Jamie ? Ah na, lass, I'll no gang there. Nor about Jamie tak nae care. Nor about Jamie tak nae care. For he's ta'en up wi' Maggy. For hark, and I will tell you, lass. Did I not see your Jamie pass, Wi' meikle gladness in his face. Out o'er the rauir to Maggy. S2T I wat lie gae her mony a kiss. And Maggy took them ne'er amiss ; 'Tween ilka smaek pleas'd her wi' tliis. That Bess was but a gawkie. For when a civil kiss I seek, She turns her head, and thraws her cheek. And for an hour she'll scarcely speak ; Who'd not ca' her a gawkie ? But sure my Maggy has mair sense. She'll gi'e a score without offence: Now gi'e me ane into the mense. And ye shall be my dawtie. O Jamie, ye hae mony tane, But I will never stand for ane ■Or twa, when we do meet again; Sae ne'er think me a gawkie. Ah na, lass, that ne'er can be. Sic thoughts as these are far frae me. Or ony thy sweet face that see. E'er to thmk thee a gawkie. But whisht ! — nae mair of this we'll speak^ For yonder Jamie does us meet ; Instead of Meg he kiss'd «ae sweet, I trow he likes the gawkie.«— dear Bess, I hardly knew. When I came by, your gown's sae new, 1 think you've got it wat wi* dew. Quoth she. That's like a gawkie. It's wat wi' dew, and 'twill get rain. And I'll get gowns when it is gane, Sae you may gang the gate you came^ And tell it to your dawtie. 228 The guilt appear'd in Jamie's cheek. He cry'd, O cruel maid, but sweet. If I should gang another gate, I ne'er could meet my dawtie ! The lasses fast frae him they flew. And left poor Jamie sair to rue, That ever Maggy's face he knew. Or yet ca'd Bess a gawkie. As they gade o'er the muir they sang. The hills and dales with echoes rang. The hills and dales with echoes rang, Ganor o'er the muir to Mai;sy. THE BANKS O' DOON. [By Burns.] 1 E banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; How can ye chant, ye little birds. And I sae weary, fu' o' care ! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird. That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : Thou minds me o' departed joys. Departed never to return. Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and -woodbine twine ; And ilka bird sang o' its luve. And fondly sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; And my fause luver stole my rose. But, all ! he left tlie thorn wi' me. 229 WALY, WALY UP THE Bx\NIt. [A song with this titk is quoted in a Musical Medley, published in 1666.] WALY, waly up the bank. And waly, waly down the brae. And waly, waly yon burn-side. Where I and my love wont to gae ! 1 lean'd my back unto an aik, I thouffht it was a trusty tree. But first It bow'd, and syne it brak, Sae my true love did lightly me. O waly, waly but love be bonny, A little time whan it is new. But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld. And fades away like the morning dew, O wherefore shou'd I busk my head ? Or wherefore shoud I kame my hair? For my true love has me forsook. And says he'll never lo'e me main Now Arthur- Seat shall be my bed. The sheets shall ne'er be fyl'd by me. Saint Anton's well shall be my drink. Since my true love has forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw. And shake the green leaves aff the tree ? O gentle death, when wilt thou come ? For of my life I am weary, u 'TIs not tile frost that freezes fell. Nor blawing snaw's inclemency ; "J'is not sic caiild that makes me cry. But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. Wlien we came in by Glasgow town. We were a comely sight to see ; My lovC was cled in the black velvety And I mysell in cramasie. But had I wist before I kiss'd. That love had been sae ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold. And pinii'd with -a silver pin. Oh, oh! if my young babe 'were born. And set upon the nurse's knee ; And I mysell were dead and gane. For a maid again I'll never be. XORD GREGORY. [By BuRXS, on the same subject as an ode of Dr Walcott'« tinindcd on a passage in tlie beautiful ballad of Fair Annie of Lochroyan.] O MIRK, iriirk is this midnight hour. And loud the tempest's roar ; A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r. Lord Gregory ope thy door. An exile frae her father's ha'. And a' for loving thee ; At least some pity on me shaw^ If love it may na be. - 231 Lord Gregoi'v, mind'st thou not the grove, By ])oiir.ie Irwine side. Where first I own'd that virgin-love I lang, lang had denied ? How aften did'st thou pledge and vo^v Thou wad for ay be mine ! And my fond heart, itsel sae true. It ne'er mistrusted thine* Hainl is thy heart. Lord Gregory, And flinty is thy breast : Thou dart of heav'n that flashest by, O wilt thou give me rest ! Ye mustering thunders from above Your willing victim see ! But spare, and pardon my fause love, His wrangs to heaven and me ! OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH ! [By Buaxs] Oh open the door, some pity to shew. Oh, open the door to me. Oh ! Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true. Oh, open the door to me. Oh ! Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek. But caulder thy love for me. Oh ! The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Is nought to my pains frae thee. Oh l 232 1 ike wan moon is setting behind the white wave^ And time is setting with me^, Oh ! False friends, false love, farewell ! for mair I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh ! She lias open'd the door, she has open'd it wide ; She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh ! jSIy true love, she cried, and sank down by his side^ Never to rise again. Oh ! TWINE WEEL THE PLAIDEN. Oh ! I hae lost my silken snood. That tied my hair sae yellow ; I've gi'en my heart to the lad I loo'd. He was a gallant fellow. And twine it iveel, my honny doW, And twine it weel, the plaiden ; The lassie lost her silken snood In pu'ing of the bracken. He prais'd my een sae bonny blue^ Sae lily white my skin, O ; And syne he prie'd my bonny men*. And swore it was nae sin, O. And twine it wcelj &c. But he has left the lass he loo'd. His ain true love forsaken. Which gars me s^r to greet the snood, 1 lost am;mg the bracken. And twine it wcelj vSwC. ^33 DUNCAN GllAY. [in Johnson's Musical Musctan tliis song is marked with tiie letter Z. as being an old song with corrections or additions. Tradition ascribes the air to a carman in Glasgow.] VV EARY fa you, Duncan Gray, Ha, ha the girdin o'f, Wae ^ae by you, Duncan Gray, J la, Jia the girdin o't ; When a' the lave gae to their play, Tlien I maun sit the lee lang day, And joeg the cradle wi' my tae. And a' for the girdin o't, Bonnie was the Lammas moon_, Ha, ha, &c. Glowrin a* tlie hills aboon. Ha, ha, &c. The girdin brak, the beast camxlown, I tint my curch and baith jny shoon. And Duncan, ye're an unco loun ; ~" V/ae on the bad ghdin o't. But Duncan, gin ye'U keep your aith. Ha, ha, !kQ. r«e bless you wi' my hindmost breath. Ha, ha, SiQ. Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith. The beast again can bear us baith, And auld Mess John will mend the skaith^ And clout the. bad girdin o't. 173 234. DUNCAN GRAY. [By Burns.] X)uxcAx GiiAY cam here to woo. Ha, ha the wooing o't, On blj'tbe Yule night when we were foUj Ila, ha the wooing o't. Mapforie coost her head fu' high, Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, Gail poor Duncan stand abeigh; Ha, ha the wooins dt. •to Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd : Ha, ha, &c. Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig. Ha, ha, &c. Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, Grat his een baith bleert and bhn', Spak o' lowpin o'er a hnn ; Ha, ha, &c. Time and chance are but a tide. Ha, ha. Sec. Shghted love is sain to bide. Ha, ha, &c. Shall I, like a fool, quoth he. For a haughty hizzie die ; She may gae to — France for me ! Ha, ha, &c. How it comes let l)octors tell. Ha, ha, &c. Meg grew sick — as he grew heal, Hiif ha, &c, 235 Something in her bosom wrings. For relief a sigh she brings ; And O, her een, they spak sic things I Ha, ha, &c. Duncan was a lad o' grace,, Ha, ha, Sec. Maggie's was a piteous case. Ha, ha, &c. Duncan could na be her death. Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath ; Now they're crouse and canty baith. Ha, ha, &c. BIDE YE YET. Gin I had a wee house, and a canty wee fire, A bonny wee wifie to praise and admire, A bonny wee yardy aside a wee burn ; Fareweel to the bodies that yammer and mourn f Sae bide ye yet, and hide ye yet. Ye little ken what may betide ye yet ; Some bonny wee body may be my lot, A?id I'll ay be canty tvi' thinking o't. When I gang a-field, and come hame at e'en, I'll get my wee wifie fou neat and fou clean. And a bonny wee bairnie upon her knee. That will cry Papa, or Daddy, to me. Sae bide ye yet, &c. And if there should happen ever to be A diff'rence a'tween my wee wifie and me. In hearty good humour, altho' she be teaz'd, I'll kiss her, and clap her, until she be pleas'd. Sae bide ye yet, &c. 236 THE ri.OUGIIMAN. The ploughman he's a bonny lad. His mind is ever true, jo. His garters knit below his knee, His bonnet it is blue, jo. 7'hen up wi't a, my ploughman lad. And heij, my merry ploughman ; Of a' the trades that I do hen, Commend me to the ploughmaji. My ploughman he comes harae at e'eOj lie's aflen wat and weary : Cast afF the wat, put on tlie dry, And gae to bed, ray dearie. Then uj) wi't a', &c. I will wash my ploughman's hose. And I will dress his o'erlay : I will mak my ploughman's bed, And cheer him late and eai-ly. Thcfi up wi't a', &c. I hae been east, I hae been west, I hae been at Saint Jolmston, The bonniest sight that e'er I saw Was the ploughman laddie dancin. Then vj) wi't a', &c. Snaw-white stockings on his legs. And siller buckles glancin ; A gude blue bannet on his head. And Oh ! but he was handsome. Then up wi't «', SiC. 237 THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOrSE. [The first half stanza is old; the rest is Rasisay's.] O THIS is no mine ain house, I ken by the rigging o% Since with my love I've changed \'ows, I dinna like the bigging o't. For now that I'm young Robie's bride. And mistress of his fire-side. Mine ain house I like to guide. And please me wi' the trigging o*t. Then farewell to my father's house, I gang where love invites me ; The strictest duty this allows, When love with honour meets me. When Hymen moulds us into ane. My Robie's nearer than my kin. And to refuse him were a sin, Sae lang's he kindly treats me, W'hen I am in mine ain house. True love shall be at hand ay, To make me still a prudent spouse. And let my man command ay ; Avoiding ilka cause of strife. The common pest of married life, I'hat makes ane wearied of his wife. And breaks the kindlv band av. 23S THE MARINER'S WIFE. [Thia fine song is long posterior to Ramsay's days. About tlic year 1771 or 1772 it ciime first on the streets a^ a ballad.— BURXS.I And are ye sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he's well ? le this a time to tawk o* wark ? Mak haste, set by your wheel. Is this a time to tawk o' wark. When Colin's at the door ? Gie me cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there's nae luck about the house^ There's nae luck ava ; There's little pleasure in the house^ When our goodman's awa. Rise up and mak a clean fire-side. Put on the rauckle pat ; Gie little Kate her cotton gown. And Jock his Sunday's coat : And mak their shoon as black as slaes^ Their hose as white as snaw ; It's a' to please my ain goodman. For he's been lang awa. For there's nae luck, -Sec. There arc twa hens upon the bank. Have fed this month and mair, Mak haste, and thraw tlieir necks about, Tliat Colin weel may fare : 239 AikI spread the table neat and clean^ Gar ilka thing look bra' ; It's a' for love of my goodman, For he's been lang awa. For there's nae luck, &c. O gie down my bigonet. My bishop-satin gown. For I maun tell the bailie's wife, That Colin's come to town. My Sunday's shoon they maun gae on, My hose o' pearl blue, It's a' to please my ain goodman, For he's baith leel and true. For there's nae luck, &c. Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his sijeech. His breatli's like caller air. His very foot has music in't. When he comes up the stair. 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. Sec. The cauld blasts of the winter wind, That thrilled thro' my heart. They're a' blawn by, I hae him safe. Till death we'll never part : But what puts parting in my head ? It may be far awa ; The present moment is our ain ; The neist we never saw. For there's nae luck, &'C, 240 Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content^ I hae nae mair to crave ; Could I but live to mak him blest, I'm blest aboon the lave. And will I see his face again ? And will t hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought; In troth I'm like to greet. For there's nae luclcj &c. •»'W-V^^%'VV% JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. [This seng, in its present shape, was first pxiblislied by Brash and Reid of Glasgow, about 179G, in a collection of poetry, in which it was said to have been improved by Burns. This assertion Dr Currie positively denies, and supposes the poet wrote no more of the song than the two stanzas (which are here distin- guished by inverted commas) that appeared originally in John- son's Musical Museum. *♦ It Ls a received tradition in Scotland," says Dr Percy, " that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene songs were composed, to be sung by the rabble, to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin service. Green skovcs and pudd'mg pies, (designed to ridicule the Popish clergy) is said to be one of those mctumorj>hoscd hymns : Moggy Lauder was anotlier : Jofm Anderson my jo was a third. The original music of all these burlesque sonnets," continues lie, " was very fine." — The last mentioned song is preserved by 0r Percy. WoMA*r. «* John Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae bye, And zc sail get a sheips heid weel baken in a pye ; Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat ; John Anderson, my jo, ami in, and ze's get tliat. 241 <* And how do ze, Cummer ? and how liae ze tlireven ? And how mony bairns hae ze ? Wom. Cummer, I hae seven. Man. Are they to zour aw in gude man ? Wom. Na, Cum- mer, na ; For five of them were gotten quhan he was awa." " The * seven bairns' are," Ritson observes, " with great proba- bility, thought to allude to the seven sacraynents ; five of which, It is observed, were the spurious off^spring of Mother church : as the first stanza is supposed to contain a satirical alhusion to the luxury of the Popish clergy ; which, however, is not so evident. Jn Dr Percy's first edition, the second stanza ran thus :-— «' And how doe ze Cummer ? and how do ze thrive 9 And how mony bairns hae ze ? Wom. Cummer, I hae Jive. Man. Afe they all to zour ain gude man ? WoM. Na, Cummer na. For three of them were gotten quhan Willie was awa. •* This, therefore, seems to have been the original ballaci ; of which the satire was transferred, by the easy change of two or three words, from common life to holy church. It is, however, either way, a great curiosity." — Ritson's Scottish Songs, vol. i. p. ci. John Anderson is said by tradition to have been town-piper of Kelso — Musical Museicm, vol. iii.] JOHN Anderson, my jo, John, I wonder what you mean. To rise so soon in the morning, and sit up so late at e'en, Ye'Il blear out a' your een, John, and why should you do so? Gang sooner to your bed at e'en, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, when nature first began To try her canny hand, John, her master-work was man ; And you among them a' John, sae trig frae tap to toe ; She prov'd to be nae journey-work, John Anderson, my jo. X 2i2 John Anderson, my jo, John, ye were my first conceit. And ye need na think it strange, John, tho' I ca' ye trim and neat; Tho' some folks say ye're anld, John, I never think ye so. But I think ye're ay the same to me, John Anderson, my jo. Jolm Anderson, my jo, John, we've seen our bairns' bau'ns. And yet, my dear Jolm Anderson, I'm happy in your arms. And sae are ye in mine, John, — I'm sure ye'll ne'er «ay no, Tho' the days are gane that we have seen, John An- derson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, what pleasure does it gie. To see sae many sprouts, John, spring up 'tween you and me. And ilka lad and lass, John, in our footsteps to go, Makes perfect heaven here on earth, John Anderson, «iy jo- ^' John Anderson, my jo, John, when we were first acquaint, *' Your locks were like the raven, yom* bonnie brow was brent ; " But now your head's turn'd bald, John, your locks are like the snow, *^ Yet blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo." John Anderson, my jo, John,frae year to year we've past. And soon that year maun come, John, will bruig us to our last ; But let na that affright us, John, our hearts were ne'er our foe. While in jnnocent delight we li v'd, John Anderson, my jo. S 13 '^ John Anderson, my jo, Jolm, "vvc clamb tlie hill the-- git! er, " And mony a canty day, John, we've had wi' imv r.n- ither ; *"' Now we maun totter down, John, but hand in hand we'll go> " And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson , iny jo." THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURNS. [By Burns, out of compliment to Robert Riddel, Esij. of Gleti- riddel, and his lady.] Tune — Seventh of Kovembei\ The day returns, my bosom burns. The blissful day we twa did meet, Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd. Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet. Than a' the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o'er the sultry line ; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globci?. Heaven gave me more, it made thee niinei While day and night can bring delight. Or nature aught of pleasure give ! While joys above, my mind can move. For thee, and thee alone, I live ! When th.it grim foe of life below Comes in between to make us part ; The iron hand that breaks our band. It breaks my bliss — it breaks mv hearts. 244 WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN. [This song was the work of a very worthy facetious old fellow, JoHK Lapuaik, late of Dalfram, near IMuirkirk; which little property he was obliged to sell in consequence of some con- nexion as security for some persons concerned in that villanous bubble, the Ayr Bank. He has often told me that he com- posed this song one day when his wife had been fretting o'er .their misfortunes. — Burks.] Tune — Scots Recluse, v\ HEN I upon thy bosom lean. And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, 1 glory in the sacred ties That made us ane, wha ance were twain : A mutual flame inspires us baith, The tender look, the melting kiss : Even years shall ne'er destroy our love. But only gie us change o' bliss. Hae I a wish ? *tis a* for thee ; I ken thy wish is me to please ; Our moments pass sae smooth away. That numbers on us look and gaze. Weel pleas'd they see our happy days. Nor envy's sel finds aught to blame ; • And ay when weary cares arise. Thy bosom still shall be my hame. I'll la}' me there, and take my rest. And if that aught disturb my dean, I'll bid her Luigh her cares away. And beg her not to drap a tear : ^45 Ilae I a joy ! 'tis a' her ain ; United still her heart and mine; They're like the woodbine round the tree. That's twin'd till death shall them disjoin. THE LAND OF THE LEAL, Tune — Tutie taitie. I'm weann' awa, Jean, Like sna when 'tis thaw, Jean^ I'm wearin' awa To the land o' the leal ! There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's nae caiild nor care, Jean^. The day is ay fair In the land o' the leal. Ye were ay leal an' true, Jean, Your task's ended now, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's the'e, Jean, She w^as baith gude and fair, Jean^ And 'We grudg'd her right sair To the land o' the leal. T'len dry that tearfu' ee, Jean, My saul langs to be free, Jean, For angels wait on me To the land o'. the leal. Now, fare ye weei, my ain Jean, This warld's care is vain, Jean, We'll meet and a} be fain In the land o' the leal. x3 ' 246 MY GODDESS, WOMAN. [By Mr Learmont at Dalkeith.] Tune — The Butcher hoy. O' MIGHTY Nature's handywarks. The common, or uncommon, Thei'e's nocht thro* a* her limits wide Can be compar'd to woman. The famner toils, the merchant trokes, Fra dawin to the gloamin ; The farmer's pains, the merchant's cares. Are baith to please a woman. The sailor spreads the daring sail, Thro' angry seas a foaming ; The jewels, gems o' foreign shores. He gies to please a woman. The sodger fights o'er crimson fields. In distant climates roaming ; Yet lays, wi' pride, his laurels down. Before all- conquering woman. A monarch lea'es his golden throne, Wi' other men in common. He flings aside his crown, and kneels A subject to a woman. Tho' I had a' e'er man possess'd. Barbarian, Greek, or Roman, It wad nae a' be worth a strae, Witlwut my goddess, woman. « 247 TIBBIE DUNBAR. Tune — Johnny M'Gill. O WILT thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar? wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar ? Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car, Or walk by my side, O sv/eet Tibbie Dunbar ? 1 care na thy daddie, his lands and his money, I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly : But say thou wilt hae me for better for wau»; And come in thy coatie sweet Tibbie Dunbar. GBEEN GROW THE RASHES. [By Burns.] Green grow the rashes , O ; Green grow the rashes, O ; The sweetest hours that e'er I spend. Are spent amang the lasses, 0. There's nought but care on ev'ry han*. In ev'ry hour that passes, O : What signifies the life o' man. An' 'twere na for the lasses, O. Green grow, &c. The warldly race may riches chase. An* riches still may fly them, O ; An' tho' at last they catch them fast. Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. Green grow, &c. e4a But gie me a canny hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O ; An' warldly cares, and warldly men. May a' gae tapsalteerie, O! Grceti grow, tkc. For yoti sae dolise, ye sneer at tliis, Ye're nouglit but senseless asses, O The wisest man the warld e'er saw, Ke dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Green grow, &c. Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O : Her prentice hand she try'd on man. An' then she made the lasses, O. Green "■row. &c. ••^■v^^-kv-w**^ GIN E'ER I'M IN LOVE. Gin e'er I'm in love, it shall be with a lass As sweet as the morn-dew that ligs on the grass ; Her cheeks maun be ruddy, her een maun be bright. Like stars in the sky on a cauld frosty night. Oh ! cou'd I but ken sic a lassie as this. Oh ! cou'd I but ken sic a lassie as this, I'd freely gang to her. Caress her, and woo Iier, At once take up heart, and solicit a kiss. My daddy wad lia'e me to marry wi' B(41, But wha wad hae ane that lie c^inna like well? What tho' she lias meikle, sbt s bleary and auld, Camstai'ie, and saucy, and u tciiible scauld. 24^ Oh ! gin I get sic a vixen as this. Oh ! gin I get sic a vixen as this, I'd whap her, and strap her. And bang her, and slap her. The devil for me shou'd solicit a kiss. There's Maggy wad fain lug me into the chain. She spiers frisky at me, but blinks it in vain : She trows that I'll ha'e her — ^but, faith, I think no. For Willy did for her a long while ago. Oh ! gin I get sic a wanton as this. Oh ! gin I get sic a wanton as this. She'd horn me, and scorn me. And hugely adorn me. And, ere she kiss'd me, gi'e another a kiss. But find me a lassie, that's youthfu* and gay. As blithe as a starling, as pleasant as May ; Wha's free from a' wrangling, and jangling, and strife. And I'll tak her, and mak her my ain thing for life. Oh ! gin I get sic a lassie as this. Oh ! gin I get sic a lassie as this, I'll kiss her and press her. Preserve and caress her. And think myself greater than Jove is in bliss* 'VW^X'V^-VW^.'V JENNYS BAWBEE. I MET four chaps yon birks amang, Wi' hanging lugs and faces lang, I spier'd at neibour Bauldy Strang, Wha are they these we see .? 260 Quoth he. Ilk cream-fac'd pauky chiel. Thinks himsell cunning as the de'il. And here they came awa to steal Jenny's bawbee. The first, a captf'n to his trade, Wi' ill-lin'd scull, and back weel clad, Mai^h'd roun' the barn and by the shade. And papped on his knee : Quoth he. My goddess, nymph, and queen, - Your beauty's dazzi'd baith my een ; But de'il a beauty he had seen But Jenny's bawbee. A norlan' laird neist trotted up, Wi' bassen'd nag and siller whup, Cry'd, Here's my beast, lad, had the.grup. Or tie him to a tree : WTiat's goud to me? I've walth o' Ian*, Bestow on ane o' worth your han' ; He thought to pay what he was awn Wi' Jenny's bawbee. A lawyer neist, wi' blatherin' gab, Wi' speeches wove like ony wab. In ilk ane's com he took a dab. And a' for a fee : Accounts he owed thro' a' the town. And tradesmen's tongues nae mair cou'd drown. But now he thought to clout his gown Wi' Jenny's bawbee. Quite spruce, just frae the washing tubs, A fool cam neist, but life has rubs, ^ Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs. And sair besmear'd was he : 251 He danc'd up, sqiilntiu' thro' a glass. And gdiin'd, I' foitli a bonny lass. He thought to win, wi front o' brass, Jenny's bawbee. She bade the laird gae kaim his wig. The soger not to strut sae big, The lawyer not to be a prig ; The fool he cried. Tee hee, I ken'd that I could never fail ; But she prinn'd the dish-clout to his tail. And cool'd him wi' a water pail, And kept her bawbee. Then Johnny cam, a lad o' sense, Altho' he had na mony pence. He took young Jenny to the spence, Wi' her to crack a wee. Now Johnny was a clever chiel. And here his suit he press'd sae weel. That Jenny's heart grew saft as jeel. And she birl'd her bawbee. k.'V»'V^V«V% TIBBY FOWLER. TiBBY FowLEil o' the glen. There's o'er mony wooing at her; Tibby Fowler o' the glen. There's o'er mony wooing at her. Courting at her, wooing at her, Seeking at her, canna get her ; Filthy elf, it's for her pelf That a the lads are wooing at her. 252 Ten came feast, and ten came west. And ten came rowing o'er the water; Twa gaid down the lang dyke side. There's twa-and-thirty wooing at her. Courting at her, &c. Fye upon the filthy snort. There's o'er mony wooing at her ; Fifteen came frae Aberdeen ; There's seven-and-forty wooing at her. Courting at her, &c. In came Frank wi' his lang legs, Gar'd a' the stairs play clitter clatter; Had awa, young men, he begs, For, by my sooth, I will be at her. Courting at her, &c. She's got pendels to her higs. Cockle-shells wad set her better ; High-heel'd shoon, and siller studs. And a' the lads are courting at her. Com ting at her, &c. Be a lassie ne'er sae fine. Gin she want the penny siller. She may live till ninety-nine Ere she get a man till her. Courting at her, &c. Be a lassie ne'er sae black. An' she hae the name o' siller. Set her upo' Tintock tap, The wind will bla' a man till her. Courting at Iter, &c. 263 O' A' THE ILLS ON MAN THAT FA*; O' a' tlie ills on man that fa* Maist poverty I drie ; For canny up life's hill we ca*, VVhan that our purse grows wee. Whan siller's gane, an* credit lost. There's no ane cares for me, Tis then I feel life's cauldest frost. Whan that my purse grows wee. Fu' mony a day blythe Maggy fair I loo'd, and she loo'd me ; To please her aye was a' my care. Whan my purse was na wee. Yestreen I wanderM o'er to Maggy, An' love gleam'd in my ee ; But whan I kiss'd the fickle jaddie, Howt, hand awa, quoth she. I look'd at her wi' fondest glance^ An' spier'd her ails at me ; But she replied, wi' mou' askance. Wow but yoiu- purse is wee. O' a' the ills on man that fa' Maist poverty I drie. For wi' us ilk ane finds a flaw. Whan that our purse grows wee, y ^54 TliE WIDOW. [By RArdSAY.] The "widow can bake, and the widow can brew. The widow can sha.pe, and tlie widow can s6w. And mony braw things the widow can do; Then have at the widow, my laddie. With courage attack her baith early and late. To kiss her and clap her ye manna be blat« ; Speak well, and do better ; for that's the best gate To win a young widow, my laddie. The widow she's youthfu', and never ae hair The waur of tlie wearing, and has a g6od skair Of every thing lovely ; she's witty and fair, And has a rich jointure, my laddie. What could you wish better your pleasure to crown, Than a widow, the bonniest toast in the town, \\ 1' naething but draw in your stool and sit down. And sport wi' the widow, my laddie. Then tllfer, and kill'^r with courtesy dead. Though stark love and kindness be a' ye caii plead; Be heartsome and airy, and hope to succeed Wi' a bonny gay widow, my laddie. Strike iron while 'tis het, if ye'd have it to wauld. For fortune ay favours tlie active and bauld. But ruins the wooer that's thowless and cauld^ Unfit for the widow, my kiddie. 255 THE YOUNG LASS CONTRA AUi.D ?*IAX. The carl he came o'er the craft. And his beard new shav'n, He look'd at me as he'd been daft. The carl trows that I would hae him. Howt awa. I winna hae him ! Na, forsootb, I winna hae him ! For a' his beard new shav'n. Ne'er a bit I wi,n^ hae him* A siller broach he gae me neist. To fasten on my cnrchea nooked ;. I wor'd awee upon my breast. But soon, alake ! the tongue o't crooked ; And sae may his ; I winna hae him, Na, forsooth, I winna hae him ; Ane twice a b^iru's a lass's jest ; Sae ony fool fpj- me m^y hae him. The carl has nae faut but ane ; For he has laaid aad dollars plenty ; But wae's me for him ! skin and baji>e Is no for a plump lass of twenty. Howt awa, I winna hae him, Na, forsooth, I winna hae him ! What signifies his dirty riggs And cash, without a man wi' them ? But shou'd my canker'd daddy gar Me tak him 'gainst my inclination, I warn the furabler to beware. That antlers dinna claim their station. 256 Howt awa, I winna hae him ! Na, forsooth, I winna hae him ! I'm flee'd to crack the haly band, Sae lawty says, I shou'd na hae him. WHAT AILS THE LASSES AT ME. [By Mr Alex. Ross, late schoolmaster at Lochlee. J Tune — Kirk wad let me be. I AM a batchelor winsome, A farmer by rank and degree. An' few I see gang out mair handsome. To kirk or to market than me ; I have outsiglit and insight and credit. And from any eelist I'm free, I'm well enough boarded and bedded ; And what ails the lasses at mef My boughts of good store are no scanty, My byres are well stocked wi' ky. Of meal i' my girnels .is plenty. An' twa or three easments forby. A horse to ride out when they're weary. An' cock with the best they can see. An' then bt; ca'd dawty and dearj^ ; I fairly wliat ails them at me. Behind backs, afore fouk I've woo'd them. An' a' the gates o't that I ken. An' when tliey leugh o' nie, 1 trow'd them. An' tiiouglit I ha(i won^ but w]:at then ; 257 When I speak of matter i they grumble^ Nor are condescending and free. But at my proposals ay stumble ; I wonder what ails them at me. I've tried them baith Highland and Lowland^ Wliere I a good bargain cou'd see. But nane o' them fand I wad fall in. Or say they wad buckle wi' me. With jooks.an' wi' scraps I've ad(h'ess'd them, Been with them baith modest and free. But whatever way I caress'd them. There's something still ails them at me. O, if I kend how but to gain them.. How fond of the knack wad I be ! Or what an address could obtain them, It should be twice welcome to me. If kissing an' clapping wad please them. That trade I should drive till I die; But, however I study to ease them. They've stiil an exception at me, . There's wratacksi an' cripples, an' cranshaks^ An' a' the wandoghts that I Jcen, No sooner they speak to tlie wenches. But they are ta en far enough ben ; But when I speak to them that's stately, I find tliem ay ta'en with the gee. An' get the denial right flatly ; What, think ye, can ail them at me ? r have yet but ae offer to make them. If they wad but hearken to me. And that is, I'm willing to tak them. If they their consent wad but gie ; y 3 258 Let Iier tTiat^s content write a billet^ And get it transmitted to me, I liereby enoage to fulfill it, I'ho' crijjple^ tho' blind she sud be. BILLET BY JEANY GHADDEN. Dear batcbelonr, I've read your billet, Your strait an' your hardships I see, An' tell you it shall be fulfilled, Tho' it were by none other but me. These forty years I've been neglected. An' nane has had pity on me ; Such offers should not be rejected. Whoever the offerer be. For beauty I lay no claim to it, Or, may be, I had been away ; Tho' tocher or kindred could do it, I have no pretensions to they : The most I can say, I'm a woman. An' that I a wife want to be ; An' I'll tak exception at no man. That's willmg to tak nane at me. And now I think I may be cocky. Since fortune has smurtl'd on me, I'm Jenny, an' ye shall be Jockie, 'Tis right we together sud be; For nane of us cou'd find a marrowy So sadly forfairn were we ; Fouk sud no at any thing tarrow. Whose chance looked naething to be. 259 On Tuesday speer for Jeany Gradden, When I i' my pens ween to be. Just at the sign of the Old Maiden, Where ye shall be sure to meet me : Bring -with you the priest for the wedding. That a' things just ended may be. An' we'll close the whole with the bedding ; An' wha'U be sae merry as we? A cripple I'm not, ye forsta me, Tho' lame of a hand that I l)e ; Nor blind is there reason to ca*^ me, Altho' I see but with ae eye : But I'm just the chap that you wanted. So tightly our state doth agree ; For nane wad hae you, ye have granted^ As few I confess wad hae me. WQO'D and MAimiED AND A*. [By Mr Alex. Ross, late schoolmaster at Lochlee.] Itoo'd and married and «', Married and wood and a', The dandilie lass of our parish Is now by hand and awa. The grass had nae freedom of growin^r As lang as she was nae awa ; Nor in the town could there be stowing For wooers that wanted to ca'. For dancing, and drinking, and bruilzies. And boxing, and sliaking of fa's. The town was ever in toulzies. But now tbe lassie's awa. Woo'd and married^ $zc. H«'ll roose hea* but little that's gotten her, Wi' Iier tocher and ribbons and a' ,• I doubt he'll wish he had miscarried Or he had married her ava' : For a' her ken lay in her dressing ; But if ance her braws were awa. She'll soon turn out o' tlie fashion> And knit up her moggins wi' stra', Woo'd and married, &c. For yesterday I went to see her. And wow ! she was wondrous bra'. She called to her husband t« gie her An ell o' new ribbons or twa : He up, and set down beside her A r^el and a wheelie to ca'. She said, Was he this gate to guide her ? And out at the door and awa. Woo'd mid married) &c. Her neist road was hame to her mither, Wha spier'd, Jyussie, how goes a' ? She said. Was it for uae ither. That she was married and awa. But for to sit down at a wheelie, And at it baitli wallop and ca*. And hae the yarn reel'd by a cheelie, Wha was ever crying to dira'? Woo'd and married^ &c. 261 Her mother says to her, FIcch ! lassie. He's wisest I fear o' the twa ; Ye'll hae little to put in the bassie, If ye be sae backward to draw : For just now you should work like a tiger. And at it baith wallop and ca'. As lang as ye hae youth and vigour. And little anes and debt keep awa. IVoo'd and married, &c. Sae swith awa hame to your hadden, Mair fool than ye came awa ; Ye maunna be ilka day weddcn. Nor gang sae white-finger'd and braw : For ye ken wi' a neighbour your yoked, At the end o' the yoke ye maun dra'. Or else ye deserve to be docked; So that is an answer for a'. Woo'd and marriedj &c. Young luckie shli^sees herself nidder'd, And wish'd nae weel what way to ca'. But yet wi' hersel she considered. That hame wards 'twas better to dra'. And even tak her chance o' her landing. However the matter might fa' ; — Folks need no' on frets to be standing, That's woo'd and married and a'. Wood and married, &c. S62 I HAE A WIFE O' MY AIN. [By Burns, in 1768, when engaged in rebuilding the dwelling- house on his form ; he then looked forward to scenes of domes- tic content and peace.] I HAE a wife o* my ain, I'll partake wi' naebody ; I'll tik cuckold frae nane, I'll gie cuckold to naebody, I hae a penny to spend. There — thanks to naebody ; I hae naething to lend, I'll borrow frae naebody. I am naebody's lord, I'll be slave to naebody ; I hae a guid braid sword, I'll tak dunts frae naebody. I'll be merry and free, I'll be sad for naebody; If naelxjdy care for rae^ 111 care for navaves her haffet locks owre her white brow ! O ! light ! light she's dancing keen on the smooth gowany green, Barefit and kilted half up to the knee ! While Jeanie is sleeping still, I'll rin and sport my fill,— I was asleep, and ye've waken'd me ! I'll rin and whirl her round ; Jeanie is sleeping sound; Kiss her frae lug to lug ; nae ane can see ! Sweet ! sweet's her hinny mou ! — Will, I'm no sleep- ing now, I was asleep, but ye waken'd me. Laughing till like to drap, swith to my Jean I lap, Kiss'd her ripe roses and blest her black ee ! And ay since whane'er we meet, sing, for the sound is sweet. Ha me mohatel na dousku me. Z 3 270 CALEDONIA. [By BuKxs.] Tune — Humours of Glen, JL HEIR groves o* sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon. Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume.. Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers. Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen : For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A listening the linnet^ aft wanders my Jean. Tho' rich is th^ breeze in their gay sunny vallies. And cauld, Caledonia's blast on the wave ; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skii't the proud palace. What are they ? The haunt o' the tyrant and slave ! The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountams. The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ; lie wanders as free as the winds of his mountains. Save love's willing fetters, the dbains o' his Jean, OAKB OF OLD GAUL. [Written by Sir Harry Erskixe. The tune was composed by' General Rcid, and called by him, " The Highland, or 42d Regiment's March." — Burns.} In the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome, From tlie heath-cover'd mountains of Scotia we come. Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain. But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in v&ln. 271 Such ouj' love of liberty, our country, and our laws, That like our ancestors of old, rve stand by freedom's cause ; Well bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause, And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws. No effeminate customs our sinews unbrace. No luxurious tables enervate our race ; Our loud-sounding pipe bears the true martial strain. So do we the old Scottish valour retain. Such our love, &c. We're tall as the oak on the mount erf the vale. Are swift as the roe which the hound doth assail ; As the full-moon in autumn our shields do appear, Minerva would dread to encounter our spear. Such our love, &c. As a storm In the ocean when Boreas blows. So are we enrag'd when we rush on our foes ; We sons of the mountains, tremendous as rocks. Dash the force of our foes with om* thundering strokes. Such our love, &c. Quebec and Cape-Breton, the pride of old France, In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance; But when our claymores they saw us produce. Their courage did fail, and they su'd for a truce. Such our love, &c. In our realm may the fury of faction long cease. May our counsels be wise, and our commerce increase ; And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find. That our friends still prove true, and our beauties prove kind. 272 Then n)c*ll defend our UheHy, our couiHnj, and ottr laws, And teach our late posterity to^fight in freedoms cause. That they like our ancestors bold, for honour and ap- plaiise, May defy the French and Spaniards to alter our laws. BANNOCK-BUEN. ROBERT BRUCE's ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. [This beautiful ode was composed by Burns in the midst of a storm, in the moor between Kenmore and Gatehouse, in Gallo- way.] Scots, wha hae wi* Wallace bled ; Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ; Velcome to your gory bed. Or to glorious victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour ; See the front o' battle lour ; See approach proud Edward's power- Edward ! chains and slaverie ! Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? "Wha sae base as be a slave ? Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee ! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw. Free-man stand, or free-man fa', Caledonian ! on wi* me ! 273 By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ; We will drain our dearest veins. But they shall be — shall be free Lay the proud usui'pers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe ; Liberty's in every blow ! Forward ! let us do, or die ! THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. [Written by the sister of Sir Gilbert Elliot, about the year 1755. — BuRNs's IVorks, vol. L p. 282. It laments in elegant and tender strains the effects of the fatal battle of Flodden, fought on the 9th September, 1513, in which James IV., most of his nobility, and tlie greater part of his army, composed of the flower of the nation, were slain. The tune is one of the most beautiful, and considered as the most ancient, of our Scottish melodies.] I've heard them lilting, at the ewe milking. Lasses a' lilting, before dawn of day ; But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning ; The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae. At bughts, in the morning, nae blithe lads are scorning; Lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae ; Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing ; Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her awae. In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jearing; Bandsters are runkled, and lyart or gray ; At fair, or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching; The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae. S74 At e'en. In the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming 'Bout stacks, with the lasses at bogle to play ; But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her deary— The flowers of the forest are weded awae. Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the border! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day ; The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost; The prime of our land are cauld in the clay. We'll hear nae mair lilting, at the ewe milking ; Women and bairns are heartless and wae ; Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning— '^ The flowers of the forest ai-e a' wede aw^ie. THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. [" iTie late Mrs CocmBirfeK, daughter of Ruthcrfdrd of Fairnolie, in Selkirkshire, and rehct of JNlr Cockburn of Ormiston (whose father was Lord Justice-Clerk of Scotland), was the authoress [of this song]. Mrs Cockburn has been dead but a few years. Even at an age, advanced beyond the usual bounds ot hu- manity, she retained a play of imagination, and an activity of intellect, which must have been attractive and delightful in youth, hvtt was almost preternatund at her period of life. Wer active benevolence, keeping pace with her genius, rendered her equally an object of love and admiration. •* The verges were written at an early period of life, and without peculiar relation to any event, unless dt were the depopulation t)f Bttrick forest ".-^Border Minstrelsy ^ Vol. i. pp. 279, 280. edition 1803.] i'vK seen the smiling of fortune beguiling, I've tasted her favours, and felt her decay ; Sweet is her blessing, and kind her caressing, But soon it is fled— it is fled far away. 27a I've seen tiie forest adorned of the foremost. With flowers of the feiirest, both pleasant and gay ; Full sweet was their blooming, their scent the air perfuming. But now they are wither'd, and a' wede awae. I've seen the morning, with gold the hills adorning. And the red stonn roaring, before the parting day; I've seen Tweed's silver streams, glittering in the sunny beams. Turn drumly and dark, as they itoUed on their way. O fickle fortune ! why this cruel sporting ? Why thus perplex us poor sons of a day ? Thy frowns cannot fear me, thy smiles cannot cheer me. Since the flowers of the forest are a' wede awae. KILLIECRANKIE. [In Johnson's Musical Museum this song is marked with tlie letter Z. as being an old song with corrections or additions.] Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad? Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O ? Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O ? An ye had been whare I hae been. Ye wad nn been sae cantie, ; An ye Itad seen what I hae seen, r thb braes o' Killiecrankie^ 0. Pre faught at land, I've faught at sea. At hame I faught my auntie, O; But I met the devil and Dundee On th' braes o' Killiecrankie, O. An ye had been, &c. 276 The bauld Pitcur fell in a fur. An' Clavers gat a clankie, O ; Or I had fed an Athole gled On th' braes o' Killiecrankie, O. An ye had been, &c. AWA, WHIGS, AWA ! Ajva^ Whigs, ajva! Arva, Whigs, awaf Yc're but a pack o' traitor louns, Yell do 7iae gude at a'. Our thrisles flourish'd fresh and fair, And bonnie bloom'd our roses. But Whigs cam like a frost in June, And withered a* our posies. Aw a J Whigs, &c. Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust, Deil blin' them \vi* the stoure o't; And write his name in his black beuk, Wha gae the Whigs the power o't. Awaj Whigs, Sec. Our sad decay in church and state Surpasses my descriving ; The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse. And we hae done wi' thriving. Afta, Whigs, &c. Grim vengeance lang has ta'en a nap. But we may see him wauken : Gude help the day, when royal heads Are hunted like a maukin ! Atva, Whigs, &c, Qir In the copy of the preceding song in Ceomek's Remains of Nithsdale and GuJIo'jl.wj Song, the two last verses are omitted, and tlie three following inserted, from the recitation of a lady, wliich were never before printed, probably from their strong and direct •severity : — A foreign Whiggish Town brought seeds In Scottish yird to cover. But we'll pu' a' his dibbled leeks, An' pack him to Hanover. Awa, Whigs ^ Sec The deil he heard the stoure o' tongues, An' rampiny: wme amang us ; But he pitietl us sae wi' curbed Whigs, He turned an' wadna wrang us. Aii'iiy Wliigs^ &c The deil sat grim amang the reek, Thrang bundling brunstane matches ; _An' croon'd 'niang the bcviK-takiug Whigs, Scraps of auld Calvin's catches ! Awa^ Wings , azi'ci, Awa, Wliigs, awa, Ye'll run me ord o' vun spnnJcs, AwUf Wkigs^ axca. The rival claims of the houses of Stuart and Brunswick fiave long ceased to be matter of dispute, and indeed aie no moit to the present generation than those of Bruce and Baliol The question was decided by the sword, and is now set at rest for ever ; yet posterity would be doing injustice to the character of the brave men who devoted their lives and fortunes in a cause which they conceived just, and in defence of a family who had sat upon the throne for so many centuries, not to admire their heroic actions in the field, and undaunted firmness in adversity, which throw a lustre on tliuir names, that time will rather increase than diminish. Although tiae nation was overawed, the feehngs of the people were not sub- dued ; they saw with grief the unrelenting fury with which those concerned in the RebeUion, and in particidar the Hi>;hlauders, were persecuted after the battle of Culloden, and sympathised with the unfortunate objects, in many cases proprietors of large estates, men of amiable dispositions, carried away by a mistaken zeal for & family, who, from its tyranny, was unworthy of their assistance : 2 A 278 to sec these men pursued to their hiding-places, dragged forth, ' and ignominiously put to death, must have excited the most poignant grief in every bosom not deadened by party prejudices, which, when tlie Hrst transports were over, would settle into a hate against the power that sanctioned sucli .proceedings. The jwets of the time took the side of the unfortunate, and produced a multitude of songs, several of which are among the finest specimens of lyrical compojsi- tion : they were necessitated to conceal their names for fear of pro- secution, but their lays were eagerly sought after, and treasured up in the memory of tlie peasantry. It is somewhat remarkable, that all the songs of both periods which have been recovered, breathe the same strain of invective, passion, and hatred against "the reigning family, or of pity and tender sympathy for the miseries of their per" secuted countrympn. We have selected a few of the most popular from the Collections of Kitson and Cromek, the latter of whom, by his indefatigable but praiseworthy exertions, has recovered from oblivion many songs composed during the Rebellions of 1715 and 1745. »■■%%■*•*■%•»/%■»%%. « TO DAUNTON ME. [There are several variations of this song, all bearing the saiYie stamp of desperate resolution. One of the verges is character- istic of the noble Lochiel : — *' Up came the gallant chief Lochiel, An' drew his glaive o' nut-brown steel, Says, * Charlie, set your fit to me. An' shaw me wha will daunton thee !*'] To daunton me an' me sae young. An' gude King James's auldest son ! O that's the thing that ne'er can be. For the man's unborn that -vvill daunton me I O set me ance on Scottish land, An' gie me my braid-sword in my hand, Wi' my blue bonnet aboon my bree, An' gbaw me. the man that will daunton me ! 279 It's nae the battle's deadlie steurc. Nor friends pruived faiise that'll gar me cowci' i But the reckless hand o' povertie, O I that alane can daunton me. High was I born to kingly gear. But a cuif came in my cap to wear^ But \vi' my braid-sivord I'll let him see He's nae the man will daunton me. THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. [The Chevalier is probably iner.nt as the hero of this song. It i ; printed from the recitation of a young girl in the parish of Kirk-bean, in Galloway — Cromek's Remains, p. 150.] iRiNCKi^Y is my luver's weed, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie. His veins are fu' o' princely blude, My bonnie Highland laddie. The gay bonnet maun circle rbun', Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; The brows wad better fa' a crown. My bonnie Highland laddie. There's a hand the sceptre bruiks, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; Better it fa's the shepherd's creuk. My bonnie Highland laddie. There's a hand the braid-sword draws,, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; Tbe gowd sceptre it seemlier fa's. My bonnie Highland laddie. 2S0 He's the best piper i' the norths Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; An' has dang a' ayont the Forth, My bonnie Highland laddie. Soon at the Tweed he mints to blaw, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; Here's the lad ance far awa'! The bonnie Highland laddie ! There's nae a Southron fiddler's hum, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; Can bide the war-pipe's deadlie strum. My bonnie Highland laddie. An' he'll raise sic an eldritch drone, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; He'll wake the snorers round the throne^ My bonnie Highland laddie. Ai'd the tirge an' braid-sword's twang, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie; To hastier march will gar them gang. My bonnie Highland laddie. Till frae his daddie's chair he'll blaw, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; Here's tlie lad ance far awa' ! My bonnie Higliland laddie. esi KEKMURE'S ON AX' AATA. (William Gordon, Viscount Iveiimurc, was commander in chief of the Chevalier's forces in the south of Scotland. Having joined General Forsfer, and marched to Preston in Lancashhe, he there surrendered himself piisoner at discretion, and was beheaded on Tower- hill, 2-kh Febniary 1716. He was a de- vout member of the Protestant chitrch, v/as mtich regretted, and his memory is still revered by the peasantry of Galloway and Xiihsdale.] Iven murk's on an' awa, Willie, Kenniure's on an' awa ; — An' Kenmure's lord's the bonniest lord That ever Gallowa' saw. Success to Kenmure's band, Willie, Success to Kenmure's band ; There was never a heart that fear'd a WTiig E'er rade by Kenmure's land. There's a rose in Kenmure's cap, Willie, There's a rose in Kenmure's cap, He'll steep it red in ruddie hearts' blede. Afore the battle drap. For Kenmure's lads are men, Willie, For Kenmure's lads are men ; Their hearts an' swords are metal true, An' that their faes shall ken ! They'll live an' die wi' fame, Willie, They'll live an' die wi' fame ; But soon wi' soun' o' victorie May Kenmure's lads come harae! 2 A3 282f Here's Kenmiire's health in wine, Willie, Here's Kenmure's health in wine ; There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, Nor yet o' Gordon's line. He kissed his ladle's hand, Willie, He kissed his ladie's hand ; But pane's his ladie's courtesie. Whan he draws his bludie brand. His ladie's cheek was red, Willie, His ladie's cheek was red ; Whan she saw his steely jupes put on. Which smelled o' deadlie feud. Here's him that's far awa, WiUie, Here's him that's far awa ! And here's the flower that I lo'e b^st^ The rose that's hke the snaw ! I:EWIS GORDON. [Lord Lewis Gordon, yovinger brotlier to the then Duke of Gor- don, commanded a detachment for tlie Chevalier in 1715, and acquitted himself with great gallantry and judgment He died in 1754. •• The supposed author of this song was a Mr G»dde«, priest, Qt Shenval in the Ainzie."— Btaws.] Oh ! send Lewis Gordon hame. And the lad I Avinna name; * Tho' his back bo at the wa', Jkiere'a to him thut's fio" awa. 283 Oh hon ! my Hisrhlandman, Ok f mij honnij Highlandmnn ; Weel woud I my true love ken Amang ten thousmtd Highlandmen. Oh ! to see his tartan trews. Bonnet bhie, and laigh-heel'd shoes^ Philabeg aboon his knee ; That's the lad that I'll gang wi'. Oh hon ! &c. The princely youth that I do mean^ Is fitted for to be a king ; On his breast he wears a star ; You'd take him for the god of war. Oh hon ! &c. Oh to see this princely one. Seated on a rojal throne ! Disasters a' wou'd disappear; Then begins the jub'lee year. Oh hon! &c. THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAM£. [By BUENS ; the air is old.] By yon castle wa', at the close of tlie day, I heard a man sing, though his head it was grey ; And as he was singing the tears fast do\vn camCj-— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 2S'h The church is in nuns, tlie state is in jars, Dehisions, oppressions, and murderous wai's ; We dnre na weel say't, but we ken wlia's to blame : There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. Mj- se\'cn hnxv,' sons for Jamie drew sword, And now I greet round their green beds in the yird; It brak the sweet heart of my faithfu' auld dame : There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. Now life is a burden that bows me down. Sin I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown ; But till my last moment my words are the same. There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. fc.-V^%'%'%'%-%. v%-% SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION! Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory ; Fareweel even to the Scottish name, Sae fam'd in martial story ! Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands. And Tweed rins to the ocean. To mark where England's province stands : Such a parcel of rogues in a natioii ! What force or guile could not subdue, Thro' many warlike ages. Is wrought now by a covvard few. For hireling traitors wages. The English steel we could disdain. Secure in valour's station ; But English gold has been our bane : Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! 285 O would, or I had seen the day That treason thus could sell us.. My auld grey head had lien in clay, Wi' Bmce and loyal Wallace ! But pith and power, till my last hour I'll tnak this declaration. We're bought and sold for English gold. Such a parcel of rogues in a nation 1 YE JACOBITES BY NAME. Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear ; Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear ; Ye Jacobites by name. Your fautes I will proclaim. Your doctrines I maun blame. You shall hear. What is right, and what is wrang, by the law, by the < law ? What is right, and what is wran^, by the law ? What is right, and what is wrang? A short s^yord, and a lang, A weak arm, and a Strang For to draw. What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar, fjim'd afar ? V/hat makes heroic strife, fam'd afar ? Wliat makes heroic strife ? To whet th' assassin's knife, Or hunt a parent's life \\'i' bludie war. 286 Then let your schemes alone, in tlie state, in the state ; Then let your schemes alone, in the state ; Tlien let 3^our schemes alone. Adore the rising sun, And leave a man undone To his fate. THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT. [Composed by Burns while riding through the muirs between Galloway and Ajrrshire.] Tune — Captain O'Kean. The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning The murmuring streamlet runs clear thro' the vale. The hawthorn trees blow in the dev.b of the morning. And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale. But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair. While the lingering moments are number'd by care ? No flowers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly sing- ing. Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. The deed that I dar'd cou'd it merit their malice, A king and a father to place on his throne ! I-lis right are tlicse hills, and his right are these vallies. Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none. But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, forlorn. My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn ; Y'our deeds prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial, Alas ! can I make you no better return I 287 STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT. [Written by Burns before 1788. The lamentation is supposed to be uttered by James, Viscount StratliaUan, while concealed in some cave of t!ie Higlilands after the battle of CiiUoden, at which engagement iiis father Viscount WiUiani was killed. He escaped to France.] Thickest night o'erhang my dwelling ! Howling tempests o'er me rav^e ! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Still surround my lonely cave .' Chrystal streamlets gently flowing. Busy haunts of base mankind. Western breezes softly blowing. Suit not my distracted mind. In the cause of right engaged. Wrongs injurious to redress. Honour's war we strongly waged. But the Heavens deny'd success : Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, Kot a hope that dare attend. The wide world is all before us — But a world without a friend! 2S8 BANNOCKS O BARLEY. \A mutilated copy of this song is in Johnson's Musical 2fu' scum ; to the research of Mx Croraek the public are indebted for a complete copy of the song.] Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o* barley. Here's to the Highlnndman's bannocks o' barley ! TN'lia in a brulzie will first cry — A parley ! — Kever the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley ! Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o barley. Here's to tlie Highlandmans bannock's o' barley 1 Vfha. drew the gude claymore for Charlie ? Wha cow'd the lowns o' England raacly ? An' claw'd their backs at Falkirk i\\'\r\y ? — Wha but the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley 1 Bannocks d beaT'jneal, Sec. Wha, when hope was blasted fairly. Stood in ruin wi' bonnie Prince Charlie ? An' 'neath the Duke's blui y paws dreed fu* sairly?-^ Wlia but the lads wi' tlie bannocks o' barley ! * Batinocks o' bear-meat, &c. • «* Of all the men who preserved an unshaken fidelity to the Chevalier in his fallen foitunes, the most heroic was R».dcrick W'Kenzie, who sacrificed his life for him, with a presence of mind, and a self-devotion, unpareUeled either in ancient or in Inodem •tory. * About this time, one Roderick M'Kenzie, a merchant of Edin- burgli, who had been out with the Prince, was skulking among the hills about Glenmorriston, when some of the soldiers met with him. As he was about the Prince's size and age, and not unlike him in the face, being a genteel man, and well dressed, they took him for t)ie Prince. M'Keiuie tried W escapa tl;uu, but could not, &nd 289 THE STUART'S GREAT LIKE, Tune — Alloa House. Oh ! how shall I venture, or dare to reveal. Too grjeat for expression, too good to conceal. The graces and virtues that illustriously shine In the prince that's descended from the Stuai-t's great line I O ! could I extoll, as I love the dear name, And suit my low strains to my prince's high fame. In verses immortal his gloiy should live. And ages unborn liis merit survive. But O ! thou great hero, just heir to the crown. The worlc^ in amazement, admires thy renown ; Thy princely behaviour sets forth thy just praise. In trophies more lasting than poets can raise. being detcrniinecl not to be taken and hanged (which he knew, it taken, would be his fate), he bravely resolved to die sword in hand ; and, in that death, to serve the Prince more th^i he coidd do by living. The bravery and steadiness of M'Kenzie confirmed the sol- diers in the belief that he taas the Prince^ whereupon one of them shot him ; who, as he fell, cried out, ♦ You have killed your Prince, you have killed your Prince,' and expired immediately. The soldiers, overjoyed with their supposed good-fortune in meeting with so great a prize, immediately cut off the brave young man's head, and made all the haste they could to Fort Augustus, to tell the news of their great heroical feat, and to lay claim to the thirty thousand pounds, producing the head, which several said they knew to be the Prince's head. This great news, witli the head, was soon carried to the Duke, who, belieWng the great work was done, set forward to Lon- don from Fort Augustus, on the eighteenth of Jtily." Cuomek's /?t7«a<«.?, pp. 193, 191. 2 8 290 Thy valour in war, tliy deportment In peace, Shall be sung and admir'd, when division shall cease; Thy foes in confusion shall yield to thy sway. And those who now rule be compell'd to obey. «^%^'V^%'V%^V^ THE WEE, WEE GERMAN LAIR DIE. prhcre are several variations of this curious old song ; the first verse of one of them runs thus : — *♦ Wha the deil hae we got for a king ? But a wee bit German lairdie ; An' when we gade to bring him name, lie was delving in his yardie ! He threw his dibble owre the dyke. An' brint his wee bit spadie ; An' swore wi' a' the English he could. He'd be nae mair a lairdie !" There are others which run, — *» He'll ride n:ie mail on strae sonks. For gawing his German hurdles ; But he sits on our gude King's throne, Amang the EngUsh lairdies. « • * » Auld Scotland, thou'rt owre cauld a hole. For nursing siccan vermin ; But the vera dogs o' England's court Can bark an' howl in German /"] W^HA the deil hae we got for a king. But a wee, wee German lairdie ! An' whan we gade to bring him hamCj He was delving in his kail-yardie. Sheughing kail an' laying leeks. But the hose and but the breeks. Up his beggar duds he clceks. The wee, wee German lairdie. 291 An' he's clapt down in our f^iideman's cliair. The wee, wee Gerniiin lairdie ; An' he's brought fouth o' foreign leeks. An* dibblet them In his yardie. He's pa'd the rose o' EiiifUsh lowns. An' brak the harp o' Irish clowns. But our thristle will jag his thumbs. The wee, wee German lairdie. Corae up amang the Higliland hiUs, Thou wee, wee German lairdie ; An' see how Charlie's lang-kail thrive. He dibblit in his yardie. An' if a stock ye daur to pu'. Or haud the yoking of a pleugh. We'll break yere sceptre o'er yere mou'. Thou wee bit German lairdie ! Our hills are steep, our glens are deep, Nae fitting for a yardie ; An' our norlan' thristles winna pu'. Thou wee, wee German lairdie ! An' we've the trenching blades o' weir. Wad lib ye o' yere German gear ; An' pass ye 'neath the claymore's sheer. Thou feckless German lairdie ! ♦%'%*v*»^»'%*^ WELCOME, CHARLEY STUART, Iou're welcome, Charley Stuart, You're welcome, Charley Stuaj'ty You re welcome, Charley Stuart, There's none so riirht as thou arf. ^92 Had I the power to my will, I'd make thee famous by my quill, Thy foes I'd scatter, take, and kill. From Billingsgate to Duart. You're wdcomCj &c. Thy sympathizing complaisance Made thee believe intriguing France; But woe is me for thy mischance, Which saddens every heart. You're wclcotne, &c. Hadst thou Culloden battle won, Poor Scotland had not been undone. Nor butcher'd been, with swortl and gun^ By l/ockhart and such cowards. You're welcomej &c. Kind Providence, to thee a friend, A lovely maid did timely send. To save thee from a fearful end. Thou cliarming Charley Stuart. You7^e nelcome, &c. Great glorious prince, we firmly pray That she and we may see the day. When Britons all with joy shall say. You're welcome Chark^ Stuart. You re welcome, &c. Tho' Cumberland, the tyrant proud,. Doth thirst and hunger after blood. Just Heaven will preserve the good. To fight for Cliarley Stuart. You're veelcome, &c. 293 Wliene'er I take a glass of wine, I drink confusion to the Swine, * But health to him that will combine To fight for Charley Stuart. You re welcome, &c. The ministry may Scotland maul, But our brave hearts they'll ne'er enthrall ; We'll fight, like Britons, one and all. For iiberty and Stuart. You're welcome, &c. Then haste, ye Britons, and set on Your lawful king upon tlie throne ;^ To Hanover we'll drive each one Who will not figlit for Stuart. Yoiire welcome J &c. THE LOVELY LASS OF INVEUNESS. [Burns has a beautiful song on this interesting subject, beginning " The lovely lass o' Inverness," the first half stanza of whicb- is perhaps all that remains of an older song than this.] There liv'd a lass in Inverness, She was the pride of a' the town. She was blythe as a lark on tlie flower-tap, Wlian frae the nest it's newly flown. At kirk she wan the auld folks luve. At dance she wan the ladses' een ; She was the blythest ay o' the blythe. At wooster-trystes or Halloween. • The Duke of Cumbexland. 2 B 3 20'i As I came in by Inverness, The summer-sun was sinking clown, there I saw tlie weel-fuur'd lass, And slie was greeting through the town». The gray-hair'd men were a' i' tlie streets. And auld dames crying, (sad to see !) The flower o' the lads o' Inverness, Lie bluidie on CuUoden-lee ! She tore her hafFet-links of gowd. And dighted ay her corAely ee ; My father lies at bluidie Carlisle, At Preston sleep my brethren three ! 1 thouglit my heart could baud nae mair, Mae tears could never blin' my ee ; But the fa' o' ane has burst my heart, A dearer ane there ne'er could be ! He trysted me o' hive yestreen. Of love tokens he gave me three; But he's faulded i' tlie arms o' gory weir. Oh ne'er again to think o' me ! The forest-flowers shall be my bed. My ft)od shall be the wild-beiTie, The fa' o' the leaf shall co'er me cauldj And wauken'd again I winna be. O weep, O weep, ye Scottish dames. Weep till ye blin' a mither's ee ; Nae reeking ha' in fifty miles. But naked corses sad to see. O spring is blythesome to the year. Trees sprout, flowers spring, and birds sing hie; put oh ! wliat spring can raise them up, ' Whose bluidie weir lias sealed the ee ? 296 The hand o' God hung heavie here. And lightly touched foul tyrannic ! It strake the rigliteous to the ground. And lifted the destroyer hie. But there's a day^, quo' my God in praj'-er. Whan righteousness sliall bear the gree ; I'll rake the -vvicked low i' the dust. And wittiken, in bliss, the gude man's ee. THE HIGHLAND WIDOWS LAMENT. [The fifth, sixth, and seventh verses of this song are by Bubks, the others are old.] O ! I am come to the low countrie, Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! Without a penny in my purse To buy a meal to me. It was nae sae in the Highland hills^ Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! Nae woman in the country wide Sae happy was as me. For then I had a score o' kye, Ochon, ochon, ochrie! Feeding on yon hill sae high,, And giving milk to me. And there I had threescore o* yowes^ Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! Skipping on yon bonnie knowes. And casting woo to me. 206 I was the happiest of a' the clan, Sair, sair may I repine. For Donald was the bravest man, And Donald he was mine! Till Charlie Stewart cam at last Sae far to set us free ; My Donald's arm was wanted then. For Scotland and for me. Their waefu' fate what need I tell ! Right to the wrang did yield ; My Donald and his country fell Upon CuUoden field ! I hae nocht left me ava, Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! But bonnie orphan lad-weans twa. To seek their bread wi' me, I hae yet a tocher band, Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! My winsome Donald's durk an* bran'. Into their hands to gie.— There's only ae blink o' hope left. To lighten my auld ee. To see my bairns gie bluidie crownes To them gar't Donald die ! * • " The determined fierceness of the Highland character urges to acts of desperate resokition and heroism. One of a clan, at the battle of Cullixlen, being singled out and wounded, set his back against a park-wall, and with his targe and claymore bore singly the onset of a party of dragoons. Pushed to desperation he made resistless strokes at his enemies, who crowded and encumbered themselves to liave each the glory of slaying him. ' Savo that brave fellow,' was the unregarded cry of some officers. Gollce Machane was cut to pieces, and thirteen of his enemies lay dead around him."— €kom£K'8 Remains, p. 200. 297 THE YOUNG MAXWELL. [*« This ballad is founded on fact. A young gentleman of the family of Maxwell, an honourable and potent name in Gallo- way and Nithsdale, being an adherent of Charles, suffered in the general calamity of his friends. *' «» After seeing his paternal house reduced to ashes; his fatlier killed in its defence ; his only sister dying with grief for her fatlier, and three brothers slain ; he assumed the habit of an old shepherd ; and in one of his excursions singled out ono of the individual men who had ruined his family. After upbraid- ing him for his cruelty, he slew him in single combat."— Ckomek's licmains.] " Whare gang ye, thou silly auld carle } And what do ye carry there ?'* '* I'm gaun to the hill-side, thou sodger gentleman. To shift my sheep their lair." Ae stride or twa took the silly auld carle. An' a gude lang stride took he : *' I trow thou be a feck auld carle. Will ye shaw the way Jo me }'* And he has gane wi' the silly auld carle, Adown by the green-wood side ; *' Light down, and gang, thou sodger gentleman^ For here ye canna ride." He drew the reins o' his bonnie gray steed. An* lightly down he sprang : Of the comeliest scarlet was his weir coat>. Whare the gowden tassels hang. 298 He has thrown aff his plaid, tlie silly auld carle^ An' his bonnet frae 'boon his bree; An' wha was it but the young Maxwell ! An' his gude brown sword drew he ! ** Thou killed my father, thou vile South'ron ! An' ye killed my breth'ren three ! Whilk brake the heart o' my ae sister, I lov'd as the light o* my ee ! " Draw out yere sword, thou vile South'ron ! Red wat wi' blude o' my kin ! That sword it crapped the bonniest flower E'er lifted its head to the sun I *' There's ae sad stroke for my dear auld father J There's twa for my brethren three ! An' there's ane to thy heart, for my ae sister. Wham I lov'd as the light o' my ee !" * • *' The noble strength of character in this ballad is only equal* led by the following affecting story : — ♦♦ In the Rebellion of 1745, a party of Cumberland's dragoons was hurrying through Nithsdale in search of rebels — Hungry and fatigued they called at a lone widow's house, and demanded refresh- ment. Her son, a lad of sixteen, dressed tliem up laug kale and butter, and the good woman brought new milk, which she told them was all her stock. One of the party inquired, with seeming kind- ness, how she lived — » Indeed,' quoth she, * the cow and the kale- yard, wi' God's blessing's a' my mailen/ He arose, and with his sabre killed the cow, and destroyed all the kale — The poor woman was thrown upon the world, and died of a broken heart — the dis- consolate youth, her son, wandered away, beyond the inquiry of friends, or the search of compassion. In the Continental war, when the British army had gained a great and signal victory, the soldiery wore making merry with wine, and recounting their exploits — A dragoon roared out, ♦ I once starved a Scotch witch in Nithsdale — I killed lu r S99 CROOKIE DEN. Were ye e'er at Crookie Den ? Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie j Saw ye Willie and his men ? My bonnie Highland laddie. They're our faes, wha brint an' slew, Bonhie laddie. Highland laddie ; There at last they gat their due. My bonnie Highland laddie. The hettest place was fill'd wi' twa, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; It was Willie and his papa. My bonnie Highland laddie. The deil sat girning i' the neuk, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; Breaking sticks to roast the Duke, My bonnie Highland laddie. The bluidy monster gied a yell, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; An' loud the laugh gade round a' hell. My bonnie Highland laddie. cow and destroyed her greens ; but,' added he, < she could live for all that, on her God, as she said !' ' And don't you rue it,' cried a young soldier, starting up, ' don't you rue it ?' ' Rue what ?' said he, ' rue aught like that !' • Then, by my God,' cried the youth, unsheathing his sword, ' that woman was my mother ! draw, you brutal villain, draw.' — They fought ; the youth passed his sword twice through the dragoon's body, and, while he turned him over in the throes of death, exclaimed, ' had you rued it you should have only been punished by your God!'" — CaoaiEK's, Remains^ p. 187. 300 CUMEEKLAND AND MURKAY'S DESCENT INTO HELL. [Keenly satirical as is the foregoing song, it sinks into the shade compared with this, in which the hulicrous and the horrible are combined with a skill not unworthy the g'^nius and humour ef Dunbar or Burns.] Iven ye whare cleekie Murray's gane ? He's to dwall in his lang hame ; The becklle clapt him on the doup, *' Hard I've earned my gray groat: Lie thou there^ and sleep thou 8oun*, God winna waken sic a lo\vn V - Whare's his gowd. a7id whare's liis gain. He rakit out 'neath Satan's wame? He has nae whfit'll pay his shot. Nor C3ulk the keel o' Charon's boat. Be there gowd whare he's to beek, He'll rake it out o' brunstane-smeek. He's in a' Satan's frything pans, Scouth'ring tlie blude frae afF his han's ; He's wasliing them in brunstan lowe. His kintra's blude it winna thowe ! The liettest soap-suds o' perdition Canna out thae stains be washin'. Ae devil roar'd till hearse and roupet, " He's pyking the gowd frae Satan's poupit!'* Anitlier roar'd wi' eldritch yell, " He's howking the key-stane out o' hell. To dnmn us m;'ir wi' God's day-light!" — And he douked i' the caudrons out o' sight. 301 He stole auld Satan's brunstane leister. Till his waukit loofs were in a blister ; He stole his Whig-spunks tipt wi' brunstane^ And stole his scalping whittle's set-stane; And out of its red hot kist he stole The very charter rights o' hell. *' Satan tent weel the pilfering villain. He'll scrimp your revenue by stealin': Th' infernal boots in v/hich you stand in, W^ith which your worship tramps the damn'd in. He'll wyle them aff your cloven cioots. And wade through heil fire i' yere boots." Auld Satan cleekit him by the spaul'. And stappit him i' the dub o* hell ; — The foulest fiend there dough tna bide him. The damn'd they wadna fry beside him : Till the bluidy Duke came trysting hither. An' the ae fat butcher fry'd the tither ! Ae devil sat splitting brunstane-matches, Ane roasting the Whigs like bakers' batches ; Ane wi' fat a Whig was basting. Spent wi' frequent prayer an' fasting; A' ceas'd whan tbae twin butchers roar'd. And hell's grim hangman stapt an' glowr'd ! " Fye ! gar bake a pye in haste. Knead it of infernal paste," Quo' Satan : — and in his mitten'd hand. He hynt up bluidie Cumberland, An' whittlet him down like bow-kail castock. And in his hettest furnace roasted. 2c ao2 Now hell's black table-claith was spread. The infernal grace was reverend said: Yap stood the hungry fiends a' o'er it. Their grim jaws gaping to devour it. When Satan cried out, fit to scouner, " Owre rank a judgment's sic a dinner.-* I'VWk^/w* KILLICRANKIE. {The battle of KiUicrankie was fought at the pass so nameil, on the 27ta July 1G89, between the Highland clans under Graham Viscount Dundee, and the forces of William III. commanded by General Mackay. The latter were totally routed. Vibcount Dundee received a mortal wound under his arm, eltvated in the act of encouraging his men to tlie pursuit.] Claveks, and his Highlandmen, Came down upo' the raw, man. Who, being stout, gave mony a clout ; The lads began to claw then. W^ith sword and targe into their hand, Wi' which they were nae slaw, man, Wi' mony a fearful heavy sigh. The lads began fo claw then^ O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stank. She flang amang them a', man ; The Butter-box got mony knocks. Their riggings paid for a' then. They got their paiks, wi' sudden straiks. Which to their grief they saw, man ; ^'i' clinkiim-clankura o'er their crowns. The lads began to fa' then. S63 Her skipt about her, her leapt about. And flang amang them a, man ; The Enghsh blades got broken heads. Their crowns were cleav'd in twa then. The durk and door made their last hour. And prov'd their final fa, man ; They thought the devil had been there. That play'd them sic a pa then. The Solemn League and Covenant Come wliigging up the hills, man; Thouglit Highland trews durst not refuse For to subscribe their bills then : In Willie's name they thought nae ane Durst stop their course at a', man; But her nainsell, wi' mony a knock,. Cry'd, Furich, Whigs awa', man. Sir Evan Du, and his men true. Came linking up the brink, man ; The Hogan Dutch they feared such, They bred a horrid stink then. The true Maclean, and his fierce men. Came in amang them a', man; Nane durst withstand his heavy hand,. All fled and ran awa then. Ok' on a ri ! Oh' on a ri ! Why should she lose King Shames, man ? Oh' rig in di I Oh' rig in di ! She shall break a' her banes then : With furic kin ish, an' stay a while. And speak a word or twa, man. She's gi' a straike out o'er the neck. Before ye -w^in awa then. 304 > O fy for shame, ye're three for ane. Her nainsell's won the day, man ; King Shames' red- coats should be hung up^ Because they ran awa then : Had bent their brows, like Highland trows^ And made as laug a stay, man. They'd sav'd their King, that sacred thing. And Willie'd run awa tlien. THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR. [Written by Burxs. The battle of SherifF-muir was fought on the 13tii November 1715, between the Highland army com- manded by the Earl of Mar, and the royal troops under the Duke of Argyle. From the circumstance of the left wing of either army being routed, both sides claimed the victory. J Tune — The Camcronian rant* CAM ye here the fight to shun. Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ? Or ware ye at the Sherra-muir, And did the battle see, man ? 1 saw the battle, sair and tough, ^nd reekin-red ran mony a sheugli. My heart for fear gae sough for sough. To hear the thuds, and see the cluds O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds, Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man. The red-coat lads wi' black cockades. To meet them w ere na slaw, man ; They rush'd and push'd, and blude outgusli'd. And mony a bouk did fa', man : i 305 The great Argyle led on his files, I wat they glanced twenty miles ; They hough'd the clans like nine-pen kyles. They hack'd and hash'd, while broad-swords clash'd. And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and sraash'd. Till fey men died awa, man. But had you seen the philabegs, And skyrin tartan trews, man. When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs, And covenant true blues, man ; In lines extended lang and large. When bayonets oppos'd tlie targe, And thousands hastened to the charge, Wi' Highland wrath, they frae the sheath Drew blades o* death, till, out o' breath. They fled like frighted doos, man. O how deil Tarn can that be true ? The chase gaed frae the north, man: I- saw myself, they did pursue The horsemen back to Forth, man; And at Dumblane, in my ain sight. They took the brig wi' a' their might. And straught to Stirling whig'd their flight; But, cursed lot ' the gates were shut. And mony a huntit poor red-coat. For fear amaist did swarf, man. My sister Kate cam up the gate, Wi' crowdie unto me, man ; She swore she saw some rebels run Frae Perth unto Dundee, man ; Their left-hand general had nae skill. The Angus lads had nae good will Tliat day their neebors' blood to spill ; 2 c 3 306 Vor fear, by foes, that they should lose Their cogs o' brose ; all crying woes. And so it goes you see, man. They've lost some gallant gentlemen, Araang the Highland clans, man ; I fear my lord Panmure is slain. Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man. Now wad ye sing this double fight. Some fell for wrang, and some for right ; But mony bade the world gude-night ; Sae ye may tell, how pell and mell. By red claymores, and muskets knell, Wi' dying yell, the Tories fell. And Whigs to hell did flee, man. TRA^^ENT MUIR. [Written by the late Mr Skirvan, a respectable farmer neat Haddington. The battle was fought on the 22d September, ] 7i-6, in a plain between Prestonpans and Tranent, where the English forces under Sir John Cope were completely routed by the Young Chevalier, Prince Charles Stuart, at the head of hi& Higliland army.] Tune — Killicrankie. The Chevalier, being void of fear. Did march up Birdie brae, man. And thro' Tranent, ere he did stent. As fast as he could gae, man : While General Cope did taunt and mock, Wi' mony a loud huzza, man ; But ere next morn proclaim'd the cock^ We heard aiuther craw, man. 307 The brave Lochiel, as I heard tell. Led Camerons on in clouds, man; The morning fair, and clear the air. They loos'd with dev'lish thuds, man : Down guns they threw, and swords they drew^ And soon ditl chase them aff, man ; On Seaton-crafts they buft their chafts. And gart them rin like daft, man. The bluff dragoons swore blood and 'oons. They'd make the rebels run, man ; And yet they flee when them they see. And winna fire a gun, man : They turn'd their back, the foot they brake. Such terror seiz'd them a', man ; Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks. And some for fear did fa', man. The volunteers prick'd up their ears. And vow gin they were crouse, man ; But when the bairns saw't turn to earn st. They were not worth a louse, man : Maist feck gade harae ; O fy for shame ! They'd better staid awa, man. Than wi' cockade to make parade. And do nae good at a', man. Monteith * the great, when hersell shit, Un'wares did ding him o'er, man; Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand. But aff fou fast did scoiu* man, • <* The minister of Longformacus, a volunteer; who, happening lo come, the night before the battle, upon a Highlander easing na- ture at Preston, threw him over, and carried his gun as a trophy to Cope's camp." — Ritso^^. O'er Soutra liill^ ere he stood still. Before he tasted meat, man ; Troth he may brag of his swift nag. That bare him afFsae. fleet, man. But Simpson * keen, to clear the eeli Of rebels far in wrang, man ; Did never strive wi' pistols five, ^ But gallopp'd Avith the thrang, man : He turn'd his back, and in a crack Was cleanly out o' sight, man ; And thought it best ; it was nae jest Wi' Highlanders to fight, man. 'Mangst a' the gang nane bade the bang But twa, and ane was tane, man ; For Campbell t rade, but Myrie X staid. And sair he paid the kain, man ; Fell skelps he got, was war than shot, Frae the sharp-edg'd claymore, man; Frae many a spout came ruiming out, His reeking-het red gore, man. But Gard'ner § brave did still behave- Like to a hero bright, man ; Flis courage true, like him were few That still despised flight, man : • *' Another volunteer Presbyterian minister, who said he would convince the rebels of their error by tlie dint of his pistols ; having, for that purpose, two in his pockets, two in his liolsters, and one in his belt." — R IT SON. f George Campbell, wright in Edinburgh. :{: Mr Myrie, a student of physic, from Jamaica, who was miser- ably mangled by the broad-swords. § Colonel .James Gardner, who, when he found himself aban- doned by his dragoons, was slain by a Highlander with a Loclrabei ax in endeavouring to join the foot. 309 For king and laws, and country's cause, In honour's bed he lay, man ; His Hfe, but not his courage, fled. While he had breath to draw, man. And Major Bowie, that worthy soul, VV^as brought down to tlie ground, man ; His horse being shot, it was his lot For to get many a wound, man : Lieutenant Smith, * of Irish birth, Frae whom he cried for aid, man. Being full of dread, lap o'er his, head. And wadna be gainsaid, man. He made sic haste, sae spurr'd his beast, 'Twas little there he saw, man ; To Berwick rade, and falsely said. The Scots were rebels a', man ; But let that end, for well 'tis kend His use and wont to lie, man ; The Teague is naught, he never faught When he had room to flee, man. And Caddell drest, amang the rest. With gun and good claymore, man. On gelding grey he rode that way. With pistol set before, man : • «♦ I have heard the anecdote often," says Burns, " that Lieu- tenant Smith, came to Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to Skirvan to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner 4n which he had noticed him in his song — ' Gang awa back,' siiid the honest farmer, ' and tell Mr Smith that I hae na leisure to come to Haddington ; but teil ' im to come here ; and I'll tak a look o' him, and if I thi-^- ^' ^^ tit to fecht him. Til fedit him ; and if no — Fii do as he did .— i U fit u'lCci.^' — Iieii'][ues cf Bums, pp. 232, 233. 310 The cause was good, he'd spend his bloody Before that he Avould yield, man ; But the night before he left the cor. And never fac'd the field, man. But gallant Roger, like a soger. Stood and bravely fought, man ; Fm wae to tell, at last he fell. But mae down wi' him brought man : At point of death, wi' his last breath, (Some standing round in ring, man,) On's back lying flat, he wav'd his hat, And cried, *• God save the King," — man. Some Highland rogues, like hungry dogs. Neglecting to pursue, man. About they fac'd, and in great haste Upon the booty flew, nian ; And they, as gain, for all their pain. Are deck'd wi' spoils of war, man ; Fow bald can tell how her nainsell Was ne'er sae pra' before, man. At the thorn-tree, which you may see Be-west the meadow-mill, man. There mony slain lay on the plain ; The clans pursuing still, man : Sic unco' hacks, and deadly whacks, I never saw the like, man ; Lost hands and heads cost them their deads. That fell near Preston-dyke, man. That afternoon, when a' was done^ I gacd to see the fray, man ; But had I wist what after past, I'd bttter sti'id away, man : Sll On Seaton-sandsj wi' nimble hands. They pick'd my pockets bare, man ; But I wish ne'er to drie sic fear For a' the sum and mair, man. JOHNIE COUP. (This satirical song was composed to commemorate Sir Jolin Cope's defeat at Preston in 1745.] Tune — Will ye go to the coals in the mornings Coup sent a challenge frae Dunbar Charlie, meet me an ye dare. And I'll learn you the art of war. If you'll meet wi' me in the morning. Hey Johnie Coup are ye waking yet ? Or are yonr drums a beating yet ? Jf ye were making I jvoiild wait To gang to the coals i the morning. When Charlie look'd the letter upon, He drew his sw^ord the scabbard from. Come follow me, my merry merry men. And we'll meet Johnie Coup i' the morning. Hey Johnie Coiq), &c. Now, Johnie, be as good as your word. Come let us try both fire and sword. And dinna rin awa like a frighted bird. That's chas'd frae its nest in the morning. Hey Johnie Coup^ Sec. When Johnie Coup he heard of thls^ He thought it wadna be amiss To hae a horse in readiness. To fiie awa i' the morning. Hei/ Johnie Coup, &c. Fy now Johnie get up and rin. The Highland bagpipes makes a din^ It's best to sleep in a iiale skin. For 'twill be a bluidie morning. Hei/ Johnie Coup, &c. When Johnie Coup to Dunbar came. They speir'd at him, Where's a' \our men? The deil confound me gin 1 ken. For I left them a' i' the morning. Hei/ Johnie Coup, &c. Now, Johnie, trouth ye Avas na blate. To come \vi' tiie news o' your ain defeat. And leave your men in sic a strait. So early ' j the morning. Hei/ Johhie Coup, &c. Ah ! faith, co* Johnie, I got a fleg, Witli their claymores and philabegs, If I face them again, deil break my leg^ So I wish you a good morning. Hey Johnie Coup, &c. 313 HERE'S TO THE KING, SIK. Tune — Hey tutii taiti. Here's to the king, sir. Ye ken wha I mean, sir. And to every honest man That will do't again. Fill up your bumpers high, We'll drink a your barrels dry ; Out upon them, fy! fy! That ivinna dot again. Here's to the chieftains Of the Scots Highland clans ; They hae done it mair than ance. And will do't again. Fill up, &c. WHien you hear the trumpet sounds, Tutti taiti to the drum ; Up your swords, and down your guns. And to the louns again. Fill up, &;c. Here's to the King o' Swedes, Fresh laurels crown his head ! Pox on every sneaking blade That winna do't again \ Fill up, &c. But to mak a' things right, now, He that drinks maun fight too. To shew his heart's upright too. And that he'll do't again. Fill up, &c. 2 D au FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. [By Burns.] Tune — For a' that. Is there, for honest poverty That hangs his head, and a that ; The coward-slave, we pass him by. We dare be poor for a' that ! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that. The rank is but the guinea's stamp. The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho* on hamely fare we dine. Wear hoddin grey, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine/ A man's a man for a' that ; For a' that, and a' that. Their tinsel show, and a* that ; The honest man, though e'er sae poor. Is king o' men for a' that. Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Tho' hundreds worship at his word;, He's but a coof for a' that : For a' that, and a' that, His ribband, star, and a' that. The man of independent mind. He looks and laughs at a' thaf. S15 A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that ; But an honest man's aboon his might,, Gude faith he mauna fa' tJiat ! For a' that, and a' that. Their dignities, and a* that. The pith o' sense, and pride o' wortl)^. Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may^ As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earthy May beai' the gree, and a' that. For a* that, and a' that. It's coming yet, for a' that. That man to man, the warld o'er. Shall brothers be for a' that. ^'W^.^/^^^X^^^ DONALD MACDONALD. [By James Hogg, author of The Queen's Wake^ and other poema Written in 1803, at the breaking out of the war with Friince.]- Tune — Woo'd and married and a. My name it is Donald Macdonald, I live in the Highlands sae grand; I've follow'd our banner, an' will do, Wharever my Maker has land. When rankit amang the blue bonnets, Nae danger can fear me awa ; - I ken that my brethren around me Are either to conquer or fa', Brogs an* brochen an* a*, Brochen an' brogs an' a'. And is na the laddie weel afF Wha has brogs an' brochen an' aV 316 Short syne we war wonclerfii' canty Oar friends an' our country to see; But since the proud Consul's grown vauntj^ Well meet him by land or by sea. Wherever a clan is disloyal. Wherever our King has a foe. He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald Wl' his Highlanders all in a row. Guns an' pistols an' a'. Pistols an' guns an' a' ; He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald Wi' guns an' pistols an' a'. What though we befriendit young Charlie ! To tell it I dinna think shtme ; Poor lad ! he came to us but barely. An' reckon'd our mountains his hame: 'Tis true tliat our reason forbade us. But tenderness carried the day ; Had Geordie come friendless amang us, Wi' him we had a' gane away. Sword an' buckler an' a'. Buckler an' sword an' a' ; For George Ave'll encounter the devil Wi' sword an' buckler an' a'. An* O, I would eagerly press him The keys o' the East to retain. For should he gic up the possession. We'll soon hae to force them again : Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour, • Though it war my finishing blow, He aye may depend on Macdonald, Wi's Hi^^lilandmen all in a row. 317 Knees'an' elbows an' a*. Elbows an' knees an' a' ; Depend upon Donald Macdonald^. His knees an' elbows an' a'. If Bonaparte land at Fort- William, Auld Europe nae langer shall grane; I laugh, whan I think how we'll gall him Wi' bullet, wi' steel, an' wi' stane : Wi' rocks o' the Nevis an' Gairy We'll rattle him afF frae the shore ; Or lull him asleep in a cairney. An' sing him Lochaber fio more ! Stanes an' bullets an' a'. Bullets an' stanes an' a' ; We'll finish the Corsican callan' Wi' stanes an' wi' bullets an' a'. The Gordon is gude in a hurry. An' Campbell is steel to the bane ; An' Grant, an' Mackenzie, an' Murray^, An' Cameron will hurkle to nane ; The Stuart is sturdy an' wannle. An' sae is Macleod and Mackay ; An' I, their gude-brither Macdonald, Sail never be last i' the fray. Brogs an' brochen an' a', Broehen an' brogs an' a'. An' up wi' the bonny blue bonnet^ The kilt an' the feather an' a'. 2 d3 318 BANNOCKS O' BAKLEV" MEAL. 1 AM an auld soclger just come from the camp. And hame to tlie Highlands I am on a tramp ; My heart it beats b'glit when I think on the shiel, Wliare I fed on bannocks o' barley meal. In the cause o' my country (my Ijreast's dearest wish). For ten years and mair, I've had mony a brush ; Now peace has reliev'd me, and hame I sail reel. To feast upon bannocks o' barley meal. A drap o' gude whisky, and Nancy my dear. An auld \'et'ran comrade to taste o' our cheer, .Will be a reward for my toils in the fiel', Wi' plenty o' bannocks o' barley meal. Of a' our auld feats at our leisure we'll crack. Syne cour down and sleep a' the night like a tap Baith care and its cankers may gae to the deil. If I liae gude bannocks o' baidey meal. When cauld weather comes and the winds rudely blaw. And deeds hill and valley whiles knee-deep wi' snaw, W^i' ease and content, I'm fu' snug in our shiel, Thrang feasting on bannocks o' barley meal. In simmer, when a' the cauld blasts flee away, I'll beak in tlie sun on the gowany brae ; Sometimes to the pipe may be shake my auld heel, Syne feed upon bannocks o* barley meal. 319 LIZZY LIBERTY. [By the late Rev. John Skinner.] Tune — Tibbie Fowler i] the glen.. 1 HERE lives a lassie i' the braes. And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her. When she has On her Sunday's claes. Ye never saw a lady brawer ; So a' the lads are -wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her, T3onny Lizzy Liberty, There's ow'r mony wooing at her ! Her mither ware a tabbit mutch. Her father was an honest dyker. She's a black-eyed wanton witch. Ye winna shaw me mony like her; So a' the lads are wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her, Bonnie Lizzy Liberty, Wow, so mony's wooing at her ! A kindly lass she is, I'm seer. Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her. And nae a swankie far nor near. But tries wi' a' his might to win her : They're wooing at her, fain would hae her. Courting her, but canna get her, Bonnie Lizzy Liberty, There's ow'r mony wooing at her. 320 For kindly tho' she be nae doubt. She manna thole tlie marriage-tether. But likes to rove and rink about, Like Highland cowt amo' the heather : Yet a' the lads are wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her, Bonny Lizzy Liberty, Wow, sae mony's wooing at her. It's seven year, and some guid mair. Syn Dutch Mynheer made courtship till her, A merchant bluff and fu' o' care, Wi' chuffy cheeks, and bags o' siller; So Dutch Mynheer was wooing at her^ Courting her, but cudna get her. Bonny Lizzy Liberty Has ow'r mony wooing at her. Neist to him came Baltic John, Stept up the brae, and leukit at her. Syne wear his wa wi' heavy moan, And in a month or twa forgat her: Baltic John was wooing at her. Courting her, but cudna get her. Filthy elf, she's nae herself Wi' sae mony wooing at her. Syne after him cam Yankie Doodle, Frae hyne ayont the muckle water ; Tho' Yankie's nae yet worth a boddle, Wi' might and main he would be at h^T : Yankie Doodle's wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her, Bonny Lizzy Liberty, Wow, sae mony's wooing at her. 321 Nqw Monkey French is in a roar. And swears that nane but he sail hae her, Tho' he sucl wade thro' bluid and gore. It's nae the King sail keep him frae her : So Monkey French is wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her. Bonny Lizzy Liberty Has ow'r mony wooing at her. For France, nor yet her Flanders frien'. Need na think that she'll come to them j They've casten aff wi' a' their kin. And grace and guid have flown fae them : They're wooing at her, fain wad hae her. Courting her, but canna get her. Bonny Lizzy Liberty, Wow, sae mony's wooing at her. A stately chiel, tliey ca' John Bull, Is unco thrang and glaikit wi' her ; And gin he cud get a' his wull. There's nane can say what he wad gi'e her ; Johnny Bull is wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her, Filty ted, she'll never w ed As lang's sae mony's wooing at her. Even Irish Teague, ayont Belfast, VVadna care to speir about her ; And sweai's, till he sail breatlie his last. He'll never happy be without her : Irish Teague is wooing at her. Courting her, but canna get her,^ Bonny Lizzy Liberty Has ow'r mony wooing at her. 322 But Donald Scot's the happy lad, Tho' a' the lave sud try to rate him ; Whan he steps up the brae sae glad She disna ken maist whare to set him : Donald Scot is wooing at her, Courting her, will may be get her. Bonny Lizzy Liberty, Wow, sae mony's wooing at her. Now Donald tak a frien's advice, I ken fu weel ye fain wad hae her. As ye are happy, sae be wise, And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her : Ye're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,^ Courting her, will may be get her. Bonny Lizzy Liberty, There's ow'r mony wooing at her. Ye're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they're sayin', Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her ; And gin ye had her a' your ain. Ye might na find it mows to guide her. Ye're wooing at her, fain wad hae her. Courting her, will may be get her. Cunning quean, she's ne'er be mine. As lang's sae mony's wooing at her. AULD LANG SYNE. [By Burks.] Should auld acquaintance be forgot;, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgo^ And days o' lang syne ? 323 For auld lafig sync, my dear, For auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet. For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes. And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wantler'd mony a weary foot. Sin auld lang syne. For auld, &c. We twa hae paidVt i' the bum, Frae mornin sun till dine : But seas between us braid hae roar'd. Sin auld lang syne. For auld, &c. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere. And gie's a hand o' thine ; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught. For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp. And surely Fll be mine ; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. ^^w^v^v^^/vv* BAGRIE O'T. W^HEN I think on this warld's pelf. And how little I hae o't to myself; I sig]i when I look on my thread-bare coat. And shame fa* the gear and the bagrie o't^ 324 Joliimy was the lad that held the plough, But now he has got gowd and gear enough ; I weel mind the day when he was na worth a groat^ And shame fa' the gear and the bagrie o't. Jenny was the lass that mucked the byre. But now she goes in her silken attire : And she was a lass who wove a plaiding coat. And shame fa the gear and the bagrie o't. Yet a' this shall never danton me, Sae land's I keep my fancy free ; While I've but a penny to pay t'other pot, May the deil tak the gear and the bagrie o't. */»%/% v%*/v*^*^^^ HY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET, IVTy love she's but a lassie yet. My love she's but a lassie yet. We'll let her stand a year or twa. She'll no be half sae saucy yet. T rue the day I sought her, O, I rue the day I sought her, O. Wha gets her needs na say he's woo'd. But he may say he's bought her, O. Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet, (>ome draw a drap o' the best o't yet : Gae seek for pleasure whare ye will. But here I never misst it yet. 325 We're a' dry w'l drinking o't. We're a' dry wi' drinking o't : The minister kisst the fidler's wife. He could na preach for thinkin o't. THE TOAST. Tune— 'iSaw t^e my Peggy- t'OME let's ha'e mair wine in, Bacchus hates repining, Venus loves nae d wining. Let's be blyth and free. Away with dull. Here t'ye. Sir; Ye'r mistress, Robie, gi'es her. We'll drink her health wi' pleasure, Wha's belov'd by thee. Then let Peggy warm ye. That's a lass can charm ye. And to joys alarm ye. Sweet is she to me. Some angel ye wad ca' her. And never wish ane brawer. If ye bare-headed saw her Kiltet to the knee. Peggy a dainty lass is. Come let's join our glasses. And refresh our hauses With a health to thee. Let coofs their cash be clinking. Be statesmen tint in thinking, While we with love and drinking. Give our cares the lie. 2 E $20 JOHN BARLEYCORN. [Ry Burns, on the plan of an old song known by the same nam*.] There were three kings into the East, Three kings both great and high. An' they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They took a plough and plow'd him dbWn, • Put clods upon his head. And they hae sworn a solemn oath ' John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful spring came kindly on. And show'rs began to fall ; John Barleycorn got up again. And sore surpris'd them all. The sultry suns of summer came. And he grew thick and strong. His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears^ That no one should him wrong. The sober autumn enter'd mild, When he grew wan and pale ; His bending joints and drooping head Show'd he began to fail. His colour sicken'd more and more* He faded into age ; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. 327 They've taen a weapon, long and sharp. And cut hira by the knee ; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart. Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back^ And cudgell'd him full sore ; They hung him up before the storm^ And tui-n'd him o'er and o'er. They filled up a darksome pit With water to the brim. They heaved in Jdiin Barleycorn^ There let hira sink or swim. They laid him out upon the floor. To work him farther woe, And still as signs of life appear'd. They toss'd him to and fro. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame. The marrow of his bones ; But a miller us'd him worst of all. He crush'd him between two stones. And thev hae taen his very heart's blood. And drank it round and round ; And still the more and more they drank. Their joy; did more abound. John Barleycorn was a hero bold. Of noble enterprise. For if you do but taste his blood. Twill make your courage rise^ 3^ 'Twill make a man forget his woe; 'Twill heighten all his joy : Twill make the widow's heart to sing^ Tho' the tear were in her eye. Then let us toast John Barleycorn, Each man a glass in hand ; And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! AULD GUDEMAN, YE'HE A DRUNKEN CARLE. j\uLD gudeman, ye're a drunken carle^ drunken carle, A' the lang day ye wink and drink, and gape and gaunt ; Of sottish loons ye're the pink and pearl, pink and pearl, lU-far'd, doited, ne'er-do-weel. Hech, gudewife ! ye're a flyten body, flyten body ; Will ye hae, but, gude be prais'd! the wit ye want; The puttin cow should be ay a doddy, ay a doddy, Mak na sic an awsome reel. Ye're a sow, auld man. Ye get fou, auld man ; Fye shame ! auld man. To your wame, auld man : Pinch'd I win, wi' spinin tow, A pluck to deed your back and pow. It's a lie, gudewife, ]t's your tea, gudewife; 329 Na, na, gudewife. Ye spend a', gudewife ; Dinna fa' on me pell-mell, Ye like a drap fu* weel yoiirsell. Ye'se rue, auld gowk, your jest and frolic, jest and frolic ; Dare ye say, goose, I ever lik'd to tak a drappy ? An 'twerna just for to cure the cholic, cure the cholic, Diel a drap wad weet my mou. Troth, gudewife, ye wadna swither, wadna swither. Soon to tak a cholic, when it brings a drap o' cappy ; But twa score years we hae fought tlicgither, fought thegither. Time it is to 'gree, I trow. Fm wrang, auld John, Owre lang, auld John, For nought, gude John, We hae fought, gude John ; Let's help to bear ilk ither's weia^ht. We're far bwre ieckless now to fight. Ye're right, gudewife. The night, gudewife. Our cup, gude Kate, We'll sup, gude Kate ; Thegither frae tliis hour we'll draw, And toom the stoup atween us twa! 2eS 330 OUR GUIDWIFE S AY IN THE RIGHT, Our guichvife's ay in the right. Ay in tlie right, ay in the right. Our guidwife's ay in the right. And I am ay in tlie wrang, jo ! Right or wrang she's ay in the right. She's ay in the right, she's ay in the right; Right or wrang she's ay in the right. And I am ay in the wrang, jo ! There's gowans grow at our kirk wa'. At oin* kirk wa', at our kirk wa', Owi e monie a dinsome carhn law Fu' blythe to win aboon, jo 1 Wad ance that winsome carle Death, But rowe her in his black mort-claith, I'd make a wadset o' an aith To feast the parishen, jo ! WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT. * This air is [Mr Allan] Masterton's ; the song mine — The oc- casion of it was this Mr William Nieol of the High School, Edinburgli, during the autumn vacation being at Moffat, honest Allan, who v.^as at that time on a visit to Dalswinton, and I went to pay Nicol a visit. We had sucli a joyous meeting, that Mr Masterton and I agreed, each in our own way, that we ahould celebrate the business." — Burns.] O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut. And Rob and Allan cam to see : Xhree blyther hearts, that lee-lang night. Ye wad na find in Cliristendie. 33^1 We are na fou, we're nne that fou. But just a drappie in our e'e ; The cock may craw, the day may dufv^ And ay we'll taste the barley brec. Here are we met, three merry boys^ Three merry boys I trow are we; And mony a night we've merry been^ And mony mae we hope to be ! We arc na fou, &c. It is the moon, I ken her horn. That's bhnkin in the Uft sae hie ; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame^ But by my sooth she'll wait a wee ! We are na fou, &c. Wha first shall rise to gang awa, A cuckold, coward loun is he V Wha first beside his chair shall fa'. He is the king among u« three ! We are na fou, &c. %/W»'VW'V'V^'V* ^* w CONTENTED WI' LITTLE. [By Burns.] Tune — Lumps o' Pudding. Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair^ hene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang, Wi' a cog o' gude swats, and an auld Scottish sang. 332 I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; But man is a soger, and life is a faught : My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch. And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch. A towmond o' trouble, should that be ray fa', A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a' : When at the blythe end o' our journey at last, Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past ? Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way; Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae : Come ease, or come travail ; come pleasure, or pain ; My warst word is — Welcome and welcome again ! THEN GUIBWIFE COUNT THE LAWIN. [By Burns, with the exception of the chorus, which is part of an old song.] Gane is the day and mirk's the night. But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light. For ale and brandy's stars and moon. And bluid red wine's the rysin sun. Then guidwife count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin. Then guidwife coutd the lawin, and bring a coggie mair, There's wealth and ease for gentlemen. And semple folk maun fecht and fen' ,• But here we're a' in ae accord. For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. Then guidwi/e count, &c. 333 My coggie is a haly pool. That heals the wounds o' care and dool ; And pleasure is a wanton trout. An ye drink it a' ye'U find liim out. Then guidwife count, &c. HEY TUTTI TAITI. [" I have met the tradition universally over Scotland, and parti- cularly about Stirling, in the neighbourhood of the scene, that this air was Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannock- burn." — Burns. Mr Ritson attaches no credit to this tradition. «' It does not seem at all probable," he says, " that the Scots had any mar- tial music in the time of this monarch ; it being their custom, at that period, for every man in the host to bear a little horn, with the blowing of which, as we are told by Froissart, they would make such a horrible noise as if all the devils of hell had been among them. It is not, therefore, likely, that these un- polished warriors would be curious ' ' ' to move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders.' These horns, indeed, are the only music ever mentioned by Barbour, to whom any particular march would have been too important a circumstance to be passed over in silence ; so that it must remain a moot point, whether Bruce's army were chear- ed by the sound of even a solitary bagpipe."— Ritson's Scot'^ tish SongSy vol. i. p. xcii.] Landlady count the lawin,. The day is near the dawin ; Ye re a' blind drunk, boys. And I'm but jolly fou. Hei/ tutti taiti. How titlti taili. Hey tutti taiti, Whasfou 710W ? 331 Cog an ye were ay foil. Cog an ye were ay foil, I wad sit and sing to yoUj If ye were ay fou. HeT/ tutti, &c. Weel may we a' be ! Ill may we never see I God bless the king And the companie I Hey tuiti, &c. THE PAWKY LOON, THE MILLER. Young Peggy's to the mill gane To sift her daddie's meller ; A kindlie maid I trow she was;— A pawky loon the miller ! An' she coost aff her high-heel'd shoon. Laced down wi' thread o' siller; O maiden, kilt your kirtle high. Quo' the young pawky miller. The new-meal flushed the lassie's cheek. Ere the black cock was crawing ; An' luve began to light her ee, By the ruddie morn was dawing. O dight, quo' she, yere mealy mou'. For my twa lips yere drauking ; But the pawky loon he keppit the words Wi' his clapping and his smacking. 333 ,"p>^ Young Peggy has unkilt her coat. An' hame she's gane fu' cheerlie ; Aften she dighted her bonnie mealy mou'. An' lilted awa' fu' clearlie :— Dustie is the miller's coat. An' dustie is the colour ; An' mealie was the sweet, sweet kiss Which I gat frae the miller ! O what has keeped ye, Peggy lass. At sifting o' the meller ? An' what has tuffled yere gowden locks, Kepped up wi* kame o' siller? An hae ye been licking the mouter, lass. Or kissing the dusty miller ? * A pawky cat came frae the mill ee— Wi' a bonnie, bowsie taiHe, An' it whiskit cross my lips I trow. Which made them a' sae mealie. All' three gude dams ran down the trows, BefcM'e was grun' the meller. An' I'm gaun back for shellen seeds To the young pawkie millerj ♦^^•w**^***^ MEDLEY. As I cam in by Calder fair. And yont the Lappard Lee, man. There was braw kissing there, Come butt an' kiss wi' me, man : There was Highland folk and Lawland folk^ Unco folk and kend folk, * In einging, the tiro last Hues of this verse ve repeated,> I 336 Folk aboon folk i' the yard ; There's nae folk like our ain folk, Duum dwrij &c. Hech, hey ! Bessj'^ Bell, Kilt your coat, Maggy, Ye'se get a new gown, DoM'n the burn Davie. The Earl o' Mar's bonie thing. And muckle bookit wallet; Play the same tune o'er again. And down the burn, for a' that Dirum dum, &c. Gin ye had been whare I had been. Ye wadna been sae wantin^ I gat the lang girdin o't. An' I fell thro' the gantrin ; 0*er the hills an' far awa, My bonnie winsome Willie ; Whare shall our guidman lye? The gleed Earl o' Kelly. Dirum dum, &c. Toddle butt, and toddle ben. Hey, Tarn Brandy ; Crack a louse on Maggy's wamc, Littly Cocky Bendy. Three sheep's skins, The barber an' his bason : The bonnie lass o* Patie's Mill, Wi' the free and accepted mason. Dirum dum, &c. 337 JEANY WHEUE HAST THOU BEEN? [Written about 1700 by T. D'Urfey, and altered by Ramsay.] O Jeany, Jeany, where hast thou been ? Father and mother are seeking of thee. Ye have been ranting, playing the wanton^ Keeping of Jocky company. O Betty, I've been to hear the mill clack. Getting meal ground for the family. As fow as it gade I brang hame the sack. For the miller has taken nae mowter frae me. Ha ! Jeany, Jeany, there's meal on your back. The miller's a wanton billy, and slee. Though victual's come hame again hale, what reck ! I fear he has taken his mowter aff thee. And, Betty, ye spread your linen to bleach. When that was done, where could you be ? Ha ! lass, I saw you slip down the hedge. And wanton Willy was following thee. Ay, Jeany, Jeany, ye gade to the kirk ; But when it skail'd, where could thou be ? Ye came na hame till it was mirk. They say the kissing clerk came wi' ye. O silly lassie, what wilt thou do ? If thou grow great, they'll heeze thee hie. Look to yoursell, if Jock prove true ; The clerk frae creepies will keep me free. 2 F 338 HEY HOW, JOHNY LAD. ■tlEY how, Johny lad. Ye' re no sae kind's ye sud hac been. Hey how, Johny lad. Ye' re no sae kind's ye sud hae been, Sae weel's ye might hae iouzled me, And sweelly pried my mou' bedeen. Hey how, Johny lad, S^c. My father he was at the pleugh. My mother she was at the millj My billy he was at the moss. And no ane near our sport to spill ; The feint a body was therein. Ye need na fley'd for being seen. Hey how, Joiiny lad, 8^c. But I maun hae anither jo, Whose love gangs never out o* mind> And winna let the moment pass. When to a lass he can be kind ; llien gang yere wa's to Blinkin' Bess, Nae mair for Johny sail she green. Hey how, Johny lad, S^c. JOHN OCHILTREE. [In the Tea Table Miscellany this song is marked with the letter Z. as being an old song.] Honest man, John Ochiltree; Mine ain auld John Ochiltree^ 339 Wilt thou come o'er the moor to me^ And dance as thou was wont to do ! Alake, alake ! I wont to do ! Ohon, ohon, I wont to do ! Now wont to do's awayfrae me, Frae silly mild John Ochiltree. Honest man, John Ochiltree ; Mine ain auld John Ochiltree ; Come anes out o'er the moor to me^, And do but what thou dow to do. Alake, alake ! 1 dow to do ! Walaways ! I dow to do ! To whost and hirple o'er my tree. My bonny moor-powt, is a' I may do. Walaways ! John Ochiltree, For mony a time I tell'd to thee. Thou rade sae fast by sea and land ; And wadna keep a bridle-hand ; Thou'd tine the beast, thysell wad die. My silly auld John Ochiltree. Come to my arms, my bonny iking. And cheer me up to hear thee sing ; And tell me o'er a' we hae done, For thoughts maun now my life sustain. Gae thy ways, John Ochiltree : Hae done ! it has nae sa'r wi' me. I'll set the beast in throw the land. She'll may be fa' in a better hand ; Even sit down there and drink thy fill. For I'll do as I wont to do still. Wont to do, ^c. { 340 OUR GOODMAN CAME HAME AT E'EN Our goodman came harae at e'en, And hame came he ; And then he saw a saddle horse. Where nae horse should be. O how came this horse here ? How can this be ? How came this horse here. Without the leave o' me ? A horse ! quo' she : Ay, a horse, quo' he. Ye auld blind dotard carle. Blind mat ye be, It's naething but a bonny milk cow. My minny sent to me. -^A milk cow ! quo' he: ^'Ay, a milk cow, quo' she. Far hae I ridden, And meikle hae I seen. But a saddle on a cow's back Saw I never nane. Our goodman came hame at e'en. And hame came he ; He spy'd a pair of jack-boots. Where nae boots should be. 341 What's this now, goodwife ? What's this I see ? How came these boots here Without the leave o' me ? Boots ! quo* she : Ay, boots, quo* he. Shame fa' your cuckold face. And ill mat ye see. It's but a pair of water stoups The cooper sent to me. Water stoups ! quo' he : Ay water stoups, quo' she. Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane. But siller spurs on water stoups Saw I never nane. Our goodman came hame at e'en. And hame came he ; And then he saw a siller sword. Where a sword should nae be : What's this now, goodwife ? What's this I see ? O how came this sword here Without the leave o' me ^ A sword ! quo' she ; Ay, a sword, quo' he. Shame fa' your cuckold face. And ill mat you see. It's but a parridge spurtle My minnie sent to me. 2 F a 342 A parridge spurtle ! quo' he : Ay, a parridge spurtle, quo' she. Well, far hae I ridden. And muckle hae I seen. But siller-handed pan*idge spurtles Saw 1 never nane. Our goodman came hame at e'en. And hame came he ; There he spy'd a powder'd wig. Where nae wig should be. What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see ? How came this wig here. Without the leave o' me ? A wig ! quo' she : Ay, a wig, quo' he. Shame fa' your cuckold face. And ill mat you see. It's naething but a clocken hen My minnie sent to me. A clocken hen ! quo' he : Ay, a clocken hen, quo' she. Far hae I ridden. And muckle hae I seen. But powder on a clocken hen, Saw I never nane. Our goodman came hame at e'en. And hame came he ; And there lie saw a muckle coat, Where nae coat should be. 343 O how came this coat here ? How can this be ? How came this coat here Without the leave o' me ? A coat ! quo* she : Ay, a coat, quo' be. Ye auld dotard carl^ Bhnd mat ye be. It's but a pair of blankets My minnie sent to me. Blankets ! quo' he : Ay, blankets, quo' she. Far hae I ridden. And muckle hae I seen, But buttons upon blankets Saw I never nane. Ben went our goodman. And ben went he ; And there he spy'd a sturdy man. Where nae man should be. How came this man here ? How can this be ? How came this man here. Without the leave o' rae ? A man ! quo' she : Ay, a man, quo' he. Poor blind body, And blinder mat ye be. It's a new milking maid. My minnie sent to me. 34* A maid ! quo' he : Ay, a maid, quo' she. Far hae I ridden. And muckle hae I seen. But lang-bearded maidens Saw I never nane. THE AULD man's BEST ARGUMENT Tune — Widow, are t^e wawking? O wha's at my chamber door ? Fair widow are ye wawking ! Auld carl, your suit give o'er. Your love lies a' in tawking. Gi'e me a lad that's young and tight. Sweet like an April meadow ; 'Tis sic as he can bless the sight. And bosom of a widow. O widow, wilt thou let me in ? I'm pawky, wise, and thrifty. And come of a right gentle kin ; I'm little mair than fifty." Daft carle, dit your mouth. What signifies how pawky. Or gentle born ye be — bot youth. In love you're but a gawky. Then widow let these guineas speak. That powerfully plead clinkan. And if they fail, my mouth I'll steek^ And nae mair love will think on. 345 These court indeed, I maun confess, I think they make you young, Sir, And ten times better can express Affection;, than your tongue, Sir. »/*.v%%^-v^^%'W* THE BOATIE ROWS. WELL may the boatie row, And better may she speed ; And leesome may the boatie row. That wins the bairns' bread : The boatie rows, the boatie rows. The boatie rows indeed ; And well may the boatie row. That wins the bairns' bread. 1 coost my line in Largo Bay, And fishes I catch'd nine ; There was three to boil, and three to fry. And three to bait the line. The boatie rows, the boatie rows. The boatie rows indeed ; And happy be the lot o' a'. That wish the boatie speed. O well may the boatie row. That fills a heavy creel. And cleads us a' frae head to foot^ And buys our parridge meal : The boatie rows, the boatie rows. The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot o' a'. That wish the boatie speed. 346 Whan Jamie vow'd he wad be mine. And wan frae me my heart, muckle lighter grew my creel; He swore we'd never part ; The boatie rows, the boatie rows. The boatie rows fu' wee! ; And muckle lighter is the load. Whan love bears up the creel. My curtch I put upo' my head. And drest mysel fu' bra', 1 true my heart was douf and wac Whan Jamie ga'ed awa'; But well may the boatie row. And lucky be her part. And lightsome be the lassie's care,' That yields an honest heart. Whan Sandy, Jock, and Janety, Are up and gotten lear ; They'll help to gar the boatie row. And lighten a' our care. The boatie rows, the boatie rows. The boatie TOWS fu' weel; And lightsome be her heart that bears The murlain and the creel. And whan we're worn down wi' age. And hirpling round the door. They'll row to keep us dry and warm. As we did them before. Then well may the boatie row. She wins the bairns' bread ; And happy be the lot o' a'. That wish the boatie speed. 347 SHE RAISE AND LOOT ME IN. [Written by D'Urfey, and altered to its present state by Ramsay, who conceived the original too indelicate for his Miscellany.] The night her silent sable wore. And gloomy were the skies; Of glitt'ring stars appear'd no more Than those in Nelly's eyes. When at her father's yate I knock'd. Where I had often been. She, shrouded only with her smock. Arose and loot me in. Fast lock'd within her close embrace. She trembling stood asham'd ; Her swelling breast, and glowing face. And every touch enflam'd. My eager passion I obey'd, Resolv'd the fort to win ; And her fond heart was soon betray'd To yield and let me in. Then, then, beyond expressing. Transporting was the joy ; I knew no greater blessing. So blest a man was I. And she, all ravish'd with delight. Bid me oft come again ; And kindly vow'd, that ev'ry night She'd rise and let me in. But ah ! at last she prov'd with bairn. And sighing sat and dull. And I that was as much concern'd, Look'd just e'en like a fool. 348 Her lovely eyes with tears ran o'er. Repenting her rash sin : She sigh'd, and curs'd the fatal -hour That e'er she loot me in. But who cou'd cruelly deceive. Or from such beauty part ? I lov'd her so, I cou'd not leave The charmer of my heart. But wedded and conceal'd our crime : Thus all was well again ; And now she thanks the happy time That e'er she loot me in. «^'%/%'V^'%/V'«%'V'% THE STEP daughter's RELIEF, [By Ramsay.] Tune — l^he Kirk wad let me be. 1 WAS anes a well-tocher'd lass. My mother left dollars to me ; But now I'm brought to a poor pass, My step-dame has gart them flee. My father he's aften frae hame. And she plays the deil with his gear ; She neither has lawtith nor shame, And keeps the hale house in a steer. She's barmy-fac'd, thriftless, and bauld. And gars me aft fret and repine; While hungry, half-naked, and cauld^ I see her destroy what is mine : 349 But soon I might hope a revenge, And soon of my sorrows be free. My poortith to plenty wad change. If she were hung up on a tree. Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo'd This bonny lass tenderly, ril tak thee, sweet May, in thy snood, Gif thou wilt gae hame with me. "'Tis only yoursell that I want. Your kindness is better to me Than a' that your step-mother, scant Of grace, now has taken frae thee. I'm but a young farmer, it's true, And ye are the sprout of a laird ; But I have milk-cattle enow. And rowth of good rucks in my yard; Ye shall hae naething to fash ye. Sax servants shall JQuk to thee ; Then kilt up thy coats, my lassie. And gae thy ways hame with me. The maiden her reason employed. Not thinking the offer amiss. Consented; — while Ringan o'erjoyed, Receiv'd her with mony a kiss. And now she sits blythly singan. And joking her drunken step-dame, Delighted with her dear Ringan, That maks her good-wife at hame. 2 G 3d0 THE COUNTRY LASS. Altho' I be but a country lass. Yet a lofty mind I bear — O, And think mysell as good as those That rich apparel wear-^0. Altho' my gown be hame-spun grey. My skin it is as saft — O, As them that satin weeds do wear. And carry their heads aloft — O. What tho' I keep my father's sheep. The thing that must be done — O, With gai'lands of the finest flowers. To shade me frae the sun — Qi When they are feeding pleasantly. Where grass and flowers do spring— .O, Then on a flowery bank at noon, I set me down and sing — O. My Paisley piggy cork'd with sage. Contains my drink but thin — O, No wines do e'er my brain enrage. Or tempt my mind to sin — O. My country curds, and wooden spoon, I think them unco fine — O, And on a flowery bank at noon, I set me down and dine — O. Altho' my parents cannot raise Great bags of shining gold — O, Like them whase daughters now-a-days Lik6 swine are bought and sold— U ; I 351 Yet my fair body it shall keep An honest heart within — O ; And for twice fifty thousand crowns, I value not a prin — O. I use nae gums upon my hair. Nor chains about my neck— O, Nor shining rings upon my hands. My fingers straight to deck— O. But for that lad to me shall fa'. And I have grace to wed — O, I'll keep a jewel worth them a', I mean my maiden-head-— O. If canny Fortune give to me The man I dearly love — O, Tho' we want gear, I dinna care. My hands I can improve— O, Expecting for a blessing still. Descending from above — O ; Then we'll embrace, and sweetly kiss. Repeating tales of love — O. MY JOCKY BLYTH. Tune. — Come kiss with me, come clap with me, S^c, My Jocky blyth, for what thou'st done. There is nae help nor mending ; For thou hast jogg'd me out of tune. For a' thy fair pretending. 362 My mither sees a change on me. For my complexion dashes, And this, alas ! has been with thee Sae late amang the rashes. My Peggy, what I've said I'll do. To free thee frae their scouling ; Come then and let us buckle to, Nae langer let's be fooling. For her content I'll instant wed. Since thy complexion dashes ; And then we'll try a feather-bed, 'Tis safter than the rashes. Then, Jocky, since thy love's so true. Let mither scoul, I'm easy : Sae langs I live I ne'er shall rue For what I've done to please thee. And there's my hand I's ne'er complain Oh ! well's me on the rashes ; Whene'er thou likest I'll do't again. And a fig for a' their clashes. A WAUKRIFE MINNIE. [Burns picked up this old, song and tune from ft country-girl in Nithsdale.] \Vhare are you gaun, my bonny lass ? Whare are you gaun, my hinnie ? She answer'd me right saucilie. An errand for my minnie. I 353 O whare live ye, my bonny lass ? O whare live ye, my hinnie ? By yon bum-side, gin ye maun ken. In a wee house wi' my minnie. But I foor up the glen at e'en. To see my bonny lassie ; And lang before the grey morn cam. She was na hauf sae saucey. O weary fa' the waukrife cock. And the foumart lay his crawin ! He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep, A wee blink or the dawin. An angry wife I wat she raise. And o'er the bed she brought her ; And wi' a meikle hazel rung She made her a weel-pay'd dochter. O fare thee weel, my bonny lass ! O fare thee weel, my hinnie ! Thou art a gay and a bonny lass. But thou hast a waukrife minnie. «'V«^'W«'%«^%^ JENNY NETTLES. O SAW ye Jenny Nettles, Jenny Kettles, Jenny Nettles ? Saw ye Jenny Nettles, Coming frae the market ; Wi' bag and baggage on her back. Her fee and bountith in her lap ; Wi' bag and baggage on her back. And a babie in her oxter ? 2 G 3 , 354 I met ayont tlie kairny, Jenny Nettles, Jenny Nettles, Singing till her bairny, Robin Rattle's bastard ; To flee the dool upo' the stool. And ilka ane that mocks hei'. She round about seeks Robin out. To stap it in his oxter. Fy, fy ! Robin Rattle, Robin Rattle, Robin Rattle ; Fy, fy ! Robin Rattle, Use Jenny Nettles kindly : Score out the blame, and shun the shame, And without mair debate o't, Tak hame your wean, mak Jenny fain The leel and leesome gate o't. THE TAYLOR. [The first and third stanzas are old, the other two are by BiiftHS. The air is the March of the Corporation of Tailors.] The taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'. The taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a' ; The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma'. The taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'. The sleepy bit lassie she dreaded nae ill. The sleepy bit lassie she dreaded nae ill ; The weather was cauld and the lassie lay still. She thought that a taylor could do her nae ill. 355 Gie me the groat again, cany young man, Gie me the groat again, cany young man ; The day it is short, and the night it is lang. The dearest siller that ever I wan. There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane. There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane ; There's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fain To see the bit taylor come ^kippin again. « -w k-w^ W^-kV^ WHEN SHE CAM BEN SHE BOBBED. O WHEN she cam ben she bobbed fu' law, O when she cam ben she bobbed fu' law. And when she cam ben she kiss'd Cockpen, And syne deny'd she did it at a'. And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'. And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'. In leaving the dochter of a lord. And kissin a collier lassie an' a'. O never look down, my lassie at a', O never look down, my lassie at a'. Thy lips are as sweet and thy figure compleat. As the finest dame in castle or ha'. Tho' thou has nae silk and Holland sae sma, Tho' thou has nae silk and Holland sae sma. Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handy wark^ And Lady Jean was never sae braw. 356 JOCKY BLYTHE AND GAY. XJLYTHE Jocky young and gay Is all my heart's delight ; He's all my talk by day, And all my dreams by night. If from the lad I be, 'Tis winter then with me ; But when he tarries here, 'Tis summer all the year. When I and Jocky met First on the flow'ry dale. Right sweetly he me tret. And love was a' his tale. You are the lass, said he. That staw my heart frae me; ease me of my pain. And never shaw disdain. Well can my Jocky kythe His love and courtesy. He made my heart fu' blythe When he first spake to me. His suit I ill deny'd. He kiss'd, and I comply'd : Sae Jocky promis'd me That he wad faithful be. I'm glad when Jocky comes. Sad when he gangs away ; *Tis night when Jocky glooms. But when he smiles 'tis day. When our eyes meet I pant, 1 colour, sigh, and faint ; What lass that wad be kind Can better tell her mind ? 357 AULD ROB MORRIS. [Maxked Q. in Ramsay's Miscellany as an old song with additions.] AuED Rob Morris that wins in yon glen. He's the king of gude fallows, and the wale of auld men. Has fourscore of black sheep, and fourscore too ; Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e. Had your tongue, mither, and let that abee. For his eild and my eild can never agree : They'll never agree, and that will be seen ; For he is foiu-score, and I'm but fifteen. Had your tongue, doughter, and lay by your pride. For he's be the bridegroom, and ye's be the bride : He shall ly by your side, and kiss ye too ; Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e. Auld Rob Morris, I ken him fou weel, His back it sticks out like ony peet-creel. He's out-shin'd, in-knee'd, and ringle-ey'd too; Auld Rob Morris is the man I'll ne'er lo'e. Though auld Rob Morris be an elderly man;. Yet his auld brass it will buy a new pan ; Then, doughter, ye shouldna be sae ill to shoe. For auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e. But auld Rob Morris I never will hae, His back is sae stiff, and his beard is grown gray : I had titter die than live wi' him a year; Sae raairof Rob Morris I never will hear. 358 AULD ROB MORRIS. [By Burns.] There's auld Rob Morris, that wins in yon glen. He's the king of gude fellows, and wale of auld men; He has gowd in his coffers, he has sheep, he has kine^ And ae bonny lassie, his darling and mine. She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May, She's sweet as the ev'ning among the new hay ; As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea^, And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e. But, oh ! she's an heiress ; auld Robin's a laird. And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard ; A wooer like me mauna hope to come speed : The wounds I maun hide, which will soon be my dead. The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane ; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane ; I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist, And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in ray breast. Oh ! had she but been of a lower degree, I then might ha'e hop'd she wad smil'd upon me ; Oh ! how past describing had then been my bliss ! As now my distraction no words can express ! ♦^V*'%%'**'*^*^ BUSK YE, BUSK YE. Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bride ; Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow ; 359 Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bride. Busk and go to the braes of Yarrow : There we will sport and gather dew. Dancing while lav'rocks sing in the morning ; There learn frae turtles to prove true ; O Bell, ne'er vex me with thy scorning. To westlin breezes Flora yields. And when the beams are kindly warming, Blythness appears o'er all the fields, And Nature looks mair fresh and charming. Learn frae the burns that trace the mead, Tho* on their banks the roses blossom. Yet hastily they flow to Tweed, And pour their sweetness in his bosom. Haste ye, haste ye, my bonny Bell, Haste to my arms, and there I'll guard thee, Wi' free consent my fears repel, I'll wi' my love and care reward thee. Thus sang I saftly to my fair. Who rais'd my hopes with kind relenting. O queen of smiles ! I ask nae mair. Since now my bonny Bell's consenting. «^'»^^»-«'V^'W'%^ JOCKY FOU, AND JENNY FAIN. [Marked Q. in the Tea-Table Miscellany, as being an old song with additions.] JocKY fou, and Jenny fain, Jenny was nae ill to gain. She was couthy, he was kind. And thus the wooer tell'd his mind. 360 Jenny^ I'll nae mair be nice, Gi'e me love at ony price ; I'll ne'er prig for red or white. Love alane can gi'e delyte. Ithers seek they kenna what. Features, carriage, and a' that; Gi'e me love in her I court : Love to love maks a' the sport. Let love sparkle in her e'e ; Let her lo'e nae man but me ; That's the tocher gude I prize. There the lover's treasure lies. Colours mingVd unco fine. Common motives lang sinsyne, Never can engage my love. Until my fancy first approve. It is na meat but appetite That maks our eating a delyt ; Beauty is at best deceit ; Fancy only kens nae cheat.. TARRY WOO.^ [The first half of this song, as well as the tune itself, are conjectured by Burns to be much older than the rest of the words, which were probably Ramsay's.] Tarry woo, O tarry woo. Tarry woo is ill to spin. Card it weel, oh card it weel. Card it weel ere ye begin. 361 When 'tis carded, row'd and spun. Then the work is haflens done ; But when woven, dress'd, and clean, » It may be cleading for a queen. Sing, my bonny harmless sheep. That feed upon the mountains steep. Bleating sweetly as ye go Thro' the winter's frost and snow ! Hart, and hind, and fallow-deer. No by half so useful are ; Frae kings to him that bauds the plow. All are oblig'd to tarry woo. Up, ye shepherds, dance and skip, O'er the hills and valleys trip, Sing up the praise of tarry woo. Sing the flocks that bear it too ; Harmless creatures, without blame ! That dead the back, and cram the wame ; Keep us warm and hearty fou ; Leeze me on the tarry woo. How happy is the shepherd's life. Far frae courts and free frae strife. While the gimmers bleat and bae. And the lambkins answer mae: No such music to his ear ; Of thief or fox he has no fear. Sturdy kent, and colly true. Will defend the tarry woo. He lives content, and envies none; Not even a monarch on his throne^ Tho' he the royal sceptre sways. Has not sweeter holidays, 2 H 362 Who'd be a king, can ony tell ? When a shepherd sings so well ; Sings sae well, and pays his due. With honest, heart and tarry woo, O AN YE WERE DEAD, GUDEMAN. AN ye were dead, gudeman, A green turf on your head, gudeman : 1 wad bestow my widow-hood Upon a ran ton Higlilandman. There's sax eggs in the pan, gudeman. There's sax eggs in the pan, gudeman ; There's ane to you, and twa to me. And three to our John Highlandman, an' ye were deady ^c. A sheep-head's in the pot, gudeman, A sheep-head's in the pot, gudeman ; The flesh to him, the broo to me. An' the horns become your brow, gudeman. Sing round about the fire rv'i a rung she ran. An' round about thejire wi' a rung she ran : Your horns shall tie you to the staw, And I shall bang your hide, gudeman. JOHN HIGHLANDMAN. [By Burns.] Tune — an ye were dead, gudeman, A Highland lad my love was born. The Lawland laws he held in scorn ; But he still was faithtii' to his clan. My gallant braw John Highlandman. 363 Singt hey my bran) John Highlandman J Sing, ho my braiv John Highlandman ! There's not a lad in a' the Ian' Was match for my John Highlandman. With his philebeg an' tartan plaid, And gude claymore down by his side. The ladies' hearts he did trepan, My gallant braw John Highlandman. Singy hey, S^c. We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, And liv'd like lords and ladies gay ; For a Lawland face he feared nane. My gallant braw John Highlandman. Sing, hey, S^c. They banish'd him beyond the sea. But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheeks the pearls ran. Embracing my John Highlandman. Sing, hey, Sfc. But, oh ! they catch'd him at the last. An' bound him in a dungeon fast ; My curse upon them every one. They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman. Sing, hey, S^c, And now a widow, I must mourn The pleasures that will ne'er return ; Nae comfort but a hearty can. When I think on John Highlandman. Sing, hey, ^c. 364 THE HAWS OF CROMDALE. [It is probable that this song was originally composed on the victory gained by the gallant Marquis of Montrose, over Sir John Ury at the village of Aulderne in Nairn ; and the descriptive part of the song, in reference to that battle, is borne out by historical facts. The Marquis having accomplished a very skilful retreat from Dundee to the skirts of the Highlands, before the forces of Ge- nerals Baillie and Ury, was there joined by a considerable jeinforce- ment under Lord Gordon, with which he commenced offensive operations. Ury marched northwards to prevent Lord Gordon from levying men for the service of King Charles ; but finding he ^ was too late, continued his march to Inverness, where the Earl of Seaforth was waiting to join him with a body of men, and while halting at Elgin, received the unexpected intelligence that Mon- trose was rapidly approaching, who he imagined to be still on the south side of the Grampians. The General of the Covenanters retreated with the utmost precipitation to Inverness, whither he was closely pursued by Montrose, who encamped at Aulderne. Montrose's army scarcely exceeded seventeen hundred, whilo the reinforcement vmder Seaforth increased General Ury's to four thousand men : thinking himself therefore able to oblige Mon- trose to retreat in his turn, he marched to attack him in his camp, and suffered a most complete defeat, three thousand of his men being kUled, and five hundred made prisoners, he himself with the cavalry however effected a retreat, and joined Baillie. The loss on the part of the victors is scarcely credible, only fifteen men having been killed. It was upwards of forty years after the defeat and execution of Mon- trose, tliat any action was fought at Cromdale; there would - therefore be the most glaring anachronisms in the song ascribing to that nobleman the command in the engagement, and styling the English army, ♦' Cromwell's men," were we not to suppose it to have been composed on the battle above referred to.] As I came in by Achindown, A little wee bit frae the town. When to the Highlands I was bown. To view the haws o' Cfomdale. 365 I met a man in tartan trews, I speer'd at him what was the news ? Quo' he, the Highland army rues. That e'er we came to Cromdale. We were in bed, sir, every man. When the English host upon us came ; A bloody battle then began Upon the haws of Cromdale. The English horse they were so rude. They bath'd their hoofs in Highland bloody But our brave clans they boldly stood, Upon the haws of Cromdale. But alas we could no longer stay. For o'er the hills we came away. And sore we do lament the day That e'er we came to Cromdale. Thus the great Montrose did say. Can you direct the nearest way. For I will o'er the hills this day. And view the haws of Cromdale ? Alas, my lord, you're not so strong. You scarcely have two thousand men. And there's twenty thousand on the plain;, Stand rank and file on Cromdale. Thus the great Montrose did say, I say, direct the nearest way. For I will o'er the hills this day. And see the haws of Cromdale. They were at dinner every man, When great Montrose upon them came^ A second battle then began Upon the haws of Cromdale. 2 H 3 B66 The Grants, Mackenzies, and Mackays, Soon as Montrose they did espy, O then they fought most vehemently Upon the haws of Cromdale* The Macdonalds they return'd again. The Camerons did their standard join, Macintosh play'd a bonny game Upon the haws of Cromdale. The Macgregors faught like lyons bold, Macphersons none could them controul- Maclauchlins faught like loyal souls Upon the haws of Cromdale. Macleans, Macdougalls, and Macneals> So boldly as they took the field. And made their enemies to yield Upon the haws of Cromdale. The Gordons boldly did advance. The Frazers fought with sword and lance. The Grahams they made their heads to dance Upon the haws of Cromdale. The loyal Stuarts, with Montrose, So boldly set upon their foes. And brought them down with Highland blows Upon the haws of Cromdale. Of twenty thousand Cromwell's men. Five hundred went to Aberdeen, The rest of them lyes on the plain Upon the haws of Cromdale. 367 CARL AN THE KING COME, Carl an the king come, Carl an the king come ; Thou shall dance and I will sing, Carl an the king come. An somebodie were come again. Then somebodie maun cross the maiii. And every man shall hae his ain, Carl an the king come. Carl an, Sfc. I trow we swapped for the warse. We gae the boot and better horse; And that we'll tell them at the cross> Carl an the king come. Carl an, ^x, Coggie an the king come, Coggie an the king come, I'se be fou and thou'se be toom;, Coggie an the king come. Coggie an, ^-c. OE'R THE WATER TO CHARLIE. Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er. Come boat me o'er to Charlie ; I'll gie John Ross another bawbee. To boat me o'er to Charlie. 368 We'll o'er the water, well o'er the sea, We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and gcr. And live or die 7vi' Charlie, I lo'e weel ray Charlie's name, Tho' some there be abhor hhn : But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame. And Charlie's faes before him ! We'll o'er, Sfc. I swear and vow by moon and stars. And sun that shines so early ! If I had twenty thousand lives, I'd die as aft for Charlie. We'll o'er, Sfc. ***/»%,■%<»,■*%/%.*♦ RISE AND FOLLOW CHARLIE. I'm inspii^'d, inspird, andjlr'd f I'm inspird, nay, fiercely fir'd! I'm all on fire vAth strong desire To rise and follow Charlie ! Flush from France, that hot-land, sirs, Charhe's come to Scotland, sirs ; Push round the quaich and bottle, and, sirs. Quaff a health to Charlie ! Ha teen fo' am, fo am, fd am. Ha teen jo' am, f'o'am, fo'am. Ha teenfdam^ foam, foam. To rise and follow Charlie ! 369 Highlandman and Lowlandman, The princely youth will follow, man ! To beat the red-coats hollow, man, Wha wadna rise wi' Charlie ? Ha teen, S^c. Let burly Wull frae Flanders come, Wi* brazen trump and kettle-drum ! Bang up the bag-pipe ! 'tis our trura' ! Let's trim the German rarely ! Ha teeuj ^-c. We fear nae foes nor foreign loons, Wi' hairy lips and pantaloons ; Nor Saxons stern, nor bluff dragoon§. Up ! up ! and waur them fairly ! Ha teen, ^c. Ilka loyal heart and leal. Ye wha love auld Albyn's weal, Come, drive the rebels to the deil ! And do't again for Charlie i Ha teen, ^c. The tongue is an unruly thing, Whence imps o' hell in words tak wing ! See, James the Third and Eighth — The King t And — not forgettin' Charlie ! Ha teen, S^c. CHARLIE HE'S MY DARLING. 'TwAS on a Monday morning. Right early in the year. That Charlie came to our town* The young Chevalier. S70 Avb Charlie he's my darling, My darlingj my darling, Charlie he's my darling, The yovng Chevalier. As he was walking up the street^ The city for to view, O there he spied a bonny lass The window looking thro*. - An' Charlie, S^c. Sae light's he jimped up the stair^ And tirled at the pin ; And wha sae ready as hersel. To let the laddie in. An' Charlie, Sfc. He set his Jenny on his knee. All in his Highland dress ; For brawlie weel he ken'd the way To please a bonnie lass. An Charlie, Sfc. It's up yon hethery mountain. And down yon scroggy glen. We daurna gang a-milking. For Charlie and his men. An' Charlie, Sj-c, HIGHLAND LADDIE. The bonniest lad that e'er I saw, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; Wore a plaid and was fu' braw,. Bonnie Highland laddie. 371 On his head a bonnet blue, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. His royal heart was firm and true, Bonnie Highland laddie. Trumpets sound and cannons roar, Bonnie lassie. Law land lassie, And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, Bonnie Lawland lassie. Glory, honour, now invite, Bonnie lassie, Lawland lassie. For freedom and my king to fight, Bonnie Lawland lassie. The sun a backward course shall take, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie. Ere ought thy manly courage shake, Bonnie Highland laddie. Go, for yoursel procure renown, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie. And for your lawful king his crown, Bonnie Highland laddie ! BONNY LADDIE. W^har' ha'e ye been a' day. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie; Ha'e ye seen him that's far away. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie. On his head a bonnet blue, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. Tartan plaid, and Highland trew. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie. 372 When he drew his gude braid sword. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. Then he ga'e his royal word, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie — That frae the field he ne'er wou'd flee. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. But wi' his friends wad live or die. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. Geordie sits in Charlie's chair. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie ; De'il cock him gin he bide there. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie. I hope to see him mount the throne. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie; Weel ye ken it is his own. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie.^ Wearie fa* the Lawland lown. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie, Wha took frae him the British crown. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie : But weels me on the kelted clan. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie, Wha fought for him at Prestonpan, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. Ken ye the news I ha'e to tell. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie- Cumberland's awa' to hell ! Bonny laddie. Highland laddie : 373 When he cam' to the Stygian shore, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. The De'il himsel' wi' fright did roar ! Bonny laddie, Highland laddie : Then Charon grim came ont to him. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie — You're welcome here, ye devil's limb ! Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. He put on him a philabeg. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. And in his nose they ram'd a peg. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. How he did skip and he did roar ! Bonny laddie, Highland laddie ; The de'ils ne'er saw sic fun before. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. They took him neist to Satan's ha'. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. There to lig wi' his grand-papa. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. The De'il sat girnin' in the nook. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie, Rivin' sticks to roast the I>uke, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. They pat him neist upon a spit. Bonny laddie, Highland laddie. And roasted him baith head and feet, Bonnv laddie. Highland laddie. 2i ^4 Wi' scalden brunstane, next wi' fat. Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. They flamm'd his carcase well wi' that, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie. They eat him up baith stoop and roop, Bonnie laddie. Highland laddie ; And that's the gate they guided the Duke, Bonny laddie. Highland laddie. eULLODEN. [By Mr William Nicholson- of Kirkcudbright, author of a col- lection of " Poems descriptive of Rural Life and Manners," published at Edinburgh in 1810.1 Tune — / are ye sleepin, Maggie ? The heath-cock craw'd o'er muir an' dale. Red raise the sun, the sky was cloudy. While must'ring far, wi' distant yell. The north'ren bands march'd stern an* steady. ! Duncan, Donald's ready ! O ! Dvncan, Donald's ready ! Wi' sword an' targe he seeks the charge, An' frae his shouther Jiings the plaidy ! Nae mair we chase the fleet-foot roe. O'er down an' dale, o'er mountain flyin' ; But rush like tempests on the foe. Thro' mingled groans the war-note cry in', ! Duncan, Donald's ready, Sfc. 375 A prince is come to claim his ain, A stem o' Stuart, frien'less Charlie ; What Highlan* han' its blade wou'd hain. What Highlan' heart behiiit would tarry ? ! Duncan^ Donald's ready, S^c, I see our hardy clans appear, The sun back frae their blades is beamin'; The south'ren trump falls on my ear. Their banner'd lions proudly streamin*. Now, Donaldy Duncans ready ! , NoWy Donaldy Duncans ready ! - Within his hand he grasps his brand; Fierce is the fray, thejield is bluidy ! But lang shall Scotlan' rue the day. She saw her flag sae fiercely flyin'; CuUoden's hills were hills o' wae ; Her honour lost, her warriors dyin'. Duncan now nae mair is ready ! Duncan now nae mair is ready ! The brand is fa' en frae out his han*. His bonnet blue lies stain'd and bluidy Fair Flora's gane her love to seek ; Lang may she wait for his returnin' ; The midnight dews fa' on her cheek ; What han' shall dry her tears o' mournin' ? Duncan now nae mair is ready ^ S^^c. 376 BAULDY FRASER. [By Mr James Hogg, author of the " Queen's Wake," &c. and published by huiti in the " Forest Minstrel," a selection of songTy printed in 1810^] Tune — Whigs o' Fife. My name is Bauldy Fraser, man ; I'm puir an' auld, an' pale an' wan, I brak my shin, an* tint a han' Upon Culloden lee, man. Our Highlan' clans war bauld an' stout. An' thought to turn their faes about. But gat that day a desperate rout. An' owre the hills did flee, man. Sic hurly-burly ne'er was seen, Wi' cufFs, an' buffs, an' blindit een. While Highlan' swords, o' metal keen. War gleamin' grand to see, man. The cannons rowtit in our face. An' brak our banes, an' raive our claes ; 'Twas then we saw our ticklish case Atween the deil an* sea, man. Sure Charlie an' the brave Lochyell Had been that time beside theirsell. To plant us in the open fell In the artillery's e'e, man : For had we met wi' Cumberland By Athol braes or yonder strand. The bluid o' a" the savage band Had dy'd the German sea, man. * « Six weeks before the battle of Culloden, some officers proposed sending up meal to several places in the Highlands, and in particular 377 But down we drappit dadd for dadd ; I thought it sude hae put me mad. To see sae mony a Highlan' lad Lie bluth'rin on the brae^ man. towards Badenoch, that in the event of the Duke of CumberlMid's marching to Inverness, before the army was gathered, they might retreat for a few days, till tliey could assemble ; or, if a misfortune should happen by a defeat, there might be some provisions in those parts ; but this was reckoned a timorous advice, and was rejected as such ; though I have reason to think it was the opinion of almost all the Highland officers, who were not for precipitating any thing. There is no doubt to be made, but that the Higlilanders could have avoided fighting, till they had found their advantage by so doing ; They could have made a smnmer's campaign, without running the risque of any misfortune ; they could have marched through the hills to places in Banffshire, Aberdeenshire, the Mearns, Perth- shire, Lochaber, and Argyllshire, by ways that regular troops could not have followed ; and if they had ventured among the mountains, it must have been attended with great danger and difficulty ; tlieir convoys might have been cut off, and opportunities would have offer- ed to attack them with almost a certainty of success : and though the Highlanders had neither money nor magazines, they would not have starved in that season of the year, so long as there were sheep and cattle ; they covdd also have separated themselves in two or three different bodies, got meal for some days provision, met again at a place appointed, and might have fallen upon the enemy where they least expected ; they could have marched in three days what would have taken regular troops five ; nay, had thes6' taken the high roads (as often they would have been obliged, upon account of their carriages) it would have taken them ten or twelve days ; in short, they might have been so harrassed and fatigued, that they must have been in the greatest distress and difficulties, and at length probably been destroyed, at least much might have been expected by gaining of time; perhaps the Highlanders might have been enabled to have made an offensive, instead of a defensive war. This was the opinion of many of the officers who considered the consequences of losing a battle : they knew well, that few Highlanders would join heartily against them so long as they continued entire ; but would upon a defeat. But any proposition to postpone fighting was ill received, and was called discouraging the army.— .Z/or a liealth to them that were here short syne. But canna be here the day. Its gude to be merry and wise. Its gude to be honest and true. Its gude to be afF wi' the auld love Before ye be on wi' the new. 383 IT WAS a' for our RIGHTFU' KING. It was a' for our rightfu' King We left fair Scotland's strand; It was a' for our rightfu' King, We e'er saw Irish land, my dear. We e'er swtv Irish land. Now a* is done that men can do. And a' is done in vain : My love and native land fareweel. For I maun cross the main, my dear. For I maun, &c. He turn'd him right and round about Upon the Irish shore. And gae his bridle reins a shake. With, adieu for evermore, my dear. With, adieu, &c. The soger frae the wars returns. The sailor frae the main. But I hae parted frae my love. Never to meet again, my dear. Never to meet, &c. When day is gane, and night is come. And a' folk bound to sleep ; I think on him that's far awa, The lee-lang night and weep, my dear. The leC'lang, &c. 384 LASSIE LIE NEAR ME. Lang ha'e we parted been. Lassie, my dearie ; Now are we met again. Lassie, lie near me : Near me, near me. Lassie, lie near me ; Lang hast thou lain thy lane, Lassie, lie near me. Frae dread Culloden's field, Bluidy and dreary. Mourning my country's fate, Lanely and weary : Weary, weary, , Lanely and weary ; Become a sad banish'd wight. Far frae my dearie. L.oud, loud the wind did roar. Stormy and eerie. Far frae my native shore. Far frae my dearie : Near me, near me. Dangers stood near me; Now I've escap'd them a'. Lassie, lie near me. A* that I ha'e endur'd. Lassie, my dearie. Here in thine arms is cur'd. Lassie lie near me Near me, near me, I^assie, lie near me ; Lang hast thou lain thy lane, Lassie^ lie near me. 38^ TAKEWEEL TO AULD SCOTIA. [By Andrew Baiv, and first published in a small collection of songs, printed at Edinburgh in 1816.] Tune — Logan Water, Fareweel to Scotia's hills and dales. Her heath-clad moors an' flow'ry vales. Where thistles bloom, an' roses blaw. Perfuming Caledonia. Fareweel the lightsome knowes and braes. Where blythe I've spent my youthfu' days ; These happy scenes, I leave them a*. An' sail frae Caledonia. To India's distant shores I bend, Wi' fickle fortune to contend ; But whatsoe'er will me befa', I'll still love Caledonia. No worldly wealth, nor storms o' fate. Can e'er frae me eradicate That glorious name aboon them a'. My native Caledonia. Fareweel the burns that sweetly glide, Whar brier and breckan fringe ilk side ; Where cooling breezes saftly blaw. Refreshing Caledonia. Fareweel each fountain, glen, an' grove, Where warblers chaunt their notes o' love. Fareweel ilk shadow, bower, an' shaw That's seen in Caledonia. 2 K 386 Fareweel ye happy nymphs an' swains. That dwell in Scotia's blest domains. May freedom, peace, content an' a'. Still smile on Caledonia I Fareweel the lassie neist my heart. She grieves me sair that we sude part ; She's gude, she's fair without a flaw. The flower o' Caledonia. O Scotia ! maun I frae thee gang ? Wi' mournfu' voice I sing the sang. To say fareweel, the sat tears fa'. In love for Caledonia. Fareweel my cronies, time flies fleet; We maybe part nae mair to meet ; Fareweel my friends, my faes an' a' ; Fareweel sweet Caledonia. LOUDEN'S WOODS AND BRAES. [By Tannahill. It is figurative of the parting of Earl Moira and the Countess ot Loudon, shortly after their maniage.] Tune — Moira' s welcome to Scotland. Louden's bonny woods and braes, I maun leave them a', lassie ; Wha can thole whan Britain's faes Wad gie Britons law, lassie ? Wha wad shun the field o' danger ? Wha frae fame wad live a stranger ? Now, when Freedom bids avenge her, Wha wad shun her ca', lassie ? Louden's bonny banks and braes Hae seen our happy bridal days, And gentle Hope shall soothe thy waes^ When 1 am far awa, lassie. 387 Hark ! the swelling bugle sings. Yielding joy to thee, laddie. But the dolefu' bugle brings Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie ; Lanely I may climb the mountain, Lanely stray beside the fountain. Still the weary moments countin'. Far frae love and thee, laddie : O'er the gory fields of war, Where Vengeance drives her crimson car, Thou'lt may be fa' frae me afar. And nane to close thy ee, laddie. O resume thy wonted smile ! ^ O suppress thy fear, lassie ! Glorious honour crowns the toil That the sodger shares, lassie ! Heaven will shield thy faithfu' lover Till the vengeful strife be over. Then we'll meet, nae mair to sever. Till the day we die, lassie ; Midst our bonny woods and braes. We'll spend our peaceful happy days. As blythe's yon lightsome lamb that plays On Louden's flowery lea, lassie. CALEDONIA. [By William L t, Edinburgh.] Sair, sair was my heart, when I parted frae my Jean ; And sair, sair I sigh'd, while the tears stood in my een j For my daddy is but poor, and my fortune is sae sma'^ It gars me leave my native Caledonia. 388 When I think on days gane, and sae happy I hae been. While wand'ring wi' my deary, whare the primrose blaws unseen, I'm wae to leave my lassie, and my daddy's cot ava. Or to leave the healthfu' breeze of Caledonia. But wharever I wander, still happy be my Jean, Nae care disturb her bosom, whare peace has ever been; Then tho' ills on ills befa me, for her I'll bear them a', Tho' aft I'll heave a sigh for Caledonia. But should riches e'er be mine, and my Jeanie still be true, ^ Then blaw, ye fav'ring breezes,^ till my native land I view; Then 111 kneel on Scotia's shore, while the heartfelt tear shall fa'. And never leave my Jean nor Caledonia. HOW LANG AND DHEARY. Tune— Caw/d Kail in Aberdeen, How lang and dreary is the night When I am frae my dearie ! I restless lie frae e'en to morn, Tho' I were ne'er so weary : For oh her lonely nights are lang. And oh her dreams are eirie ; And oh her ividow'd heart is sair That's absent Jrae her dearie ' 389 When I think on the lightsome days I spent wi' thee, my dearie. And nov^ what seas between us roar. How can I be but eirie ! For oh, ^c. How slow ye move, ye dreary hours ; The joyless days, how dreary ! It was na sae ye glinted by Wlien r was wi' my dearie. For oh, S^c. CAPTAIN O'KAINE. [By Richard Gall — Vide p. 211.] Row saftly, thou stream, thro' the wild-spangl'd valley, O green be thy banks, ever bonny and fair ! Sing sweetly, ye birds, as ye wanton fu gaily. Yet strangers to sorrow, and strangers to care. The weary day lang '^ I list to your sang, . And waste ilka moment, sad, cheerless, alane : Each sweet little treasure O' heart cheering pleasure. Far fled frae my bosom wi' Captain O'Kaine. Fu* aft on thy banks hae we pu'd the wild gowan. And twisted a ringlet beneath the hawthorn : Ah ! then each fond moment wi' pleasure was glowin ; Sweet days o' deKght, which can never return ! Now ever, waes me ! rhe tear fills mine ee. And sair is my heart wi' the rigour o* pain; Nae prospect returning To gladden life's morning, For green waves the willow o'er Captain O'Kaine. a k3 390 THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE. [By Burns, who in one of his wanderings in the woods along the banks of the Ayr, in 1 786, met a young lady, a celebrated beauty of the west of Scotland, of whose charms he was instantaneously enraptured. Her station in life prevented him from disclosing at that moment the passion he had conceived, but his mind in these matters disdained restraint, and on his return home he composed and sent the young lady the following song, inclosed in a letter, to which however, as might be expected, she returned no answer. — See Currie's Life of Burns. 1 JL WAS even — the dewy fields were green. On every blade the pearls hang ; The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean. And bore its fragrant sweets alang : In every glen the mavis sang, All Nature listening seemed the while^ Except where green- wood echoes rang, Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. ^ With careless step I onward strayed. My heart rejoiced in Nature^^ joy. When, musing in a lonely glade, A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy ; Her look was like the morning's eye. Her air like Nature's vernal smile. The lily's hue and rose's dye Bespoke the lass o' Ballochmyle. Fair is the morn in floAv'ry May, And sweet is night in Autumn mild; When roving through the garden gay, Or wandering in the lonely wild : 391 But woman. Nature's darling child ! There all her charms she does compile ; Even there her other works are foil'd By the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle. O had she been a country maid. And I the happy country swain,^ Tho' sheltered in the lowest shed That ever rose on Scotland's plain. Thro' weary winter's wind and rain. With joy, with rapture, I would toil. And nightly to my bosom strain The bonny lass o' Ballochmyle^ Then pride might climb the slippery steep. Where fame and honours lofty shine ; And thirst of gold might tempt the d^ep. Or downward seek the Indian mine ; Give me the cot below the pine. To tend the flocks, or till the soil. And every day have joys divine With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle. •V*'»^%/W^*^-»'* THE ABSENT LOVER. What ails this heart of mine? What ails this watry e'e ? What gars me ay turn cauld as death. When I tak leave o' thee? When thou art far awa, Thou'lt dearer grow to me ; But change o' fouk, and change o' place. May gar thy fancy jee. S9^ Then I'll sit down and moan, ~ Just by yon spreading tree. An' gin a leaf fa' in my lap, I'll ca't a word frae thee ! Syne I'll gang to the bower Which thou wi' roses tied, 'Twas there by mony a blushing bud: I strove my love to hide. I'll doat on ilka spot Whar I hae been wi' thee; I'll ca' to mind some fond love tale^ By ev'ry burn and tree. 'Tis hope that cheers the mind, Tho' lovers absent be ; An' when I think I see thee still, I think I'm still wi' thee. O MARY, TURN AWA. O Mary, turn awa That bonny face o' thine, And dinna, dinna shaw that breast, That never can be mine ! Can ought o' warld's gear. E'er cool my bosom's care? Na, na, for ilka look o' thine. It only feeds despair. Then, Mary, turn awa That bonny face o' thine; O dinna, dinna shaw that breast, That never can be mine ! 393 Wi' love's severest pangs My heart is laden sair, An' o'er my breast the grass maun grow^ Ere I am free frae care. WILLIE S RARE. IVillie's rare, and Willie's fair. And Willie's wondrous bonny, And Willie hecht to marry me. Gin e'er he married ony. Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid. This night I'll make it narrow ; For a' the live-lang winter-night I'll ly twin'd o' my marrow. O came you by yon water side ? Pu'd you the rose or lily ? Or came you by yon meadow green? Or saw ye my sweet Willie ? She sought him east, she sought him west. She sought him braid and narrow ; Syne in the cleaving of a craig, She found him drown'd in Yarrow. SWEET KITTY O' THE CLYDE. A BOAT danc'd on Clyde's bonny stream. When winds were rudely blowing. There sat what might the goddess seem Of the waves beneath her flowing ; 394 But, no ! a mortal fair was she. Surpassing a' beside; And youths a' speer'd her choice to be— Sweet Kitty of the Clyde. I saw the boatman spread a sail. And, while his daftness noting. The boat was upset by the gale, I saw sweet Kitty floating ; I plung'd into the silver wave, Wi' Cupid for my guide. And thought my heart weel lost to save Sweet Kitty o* the Clyde. But Kitty is a high-born fair, A lowly name I carry. Nor can wi' lordly thanes compare Who woo the maid to marry ; But she not scornfu' looks on me. And joy may yet betide. For hope dares flatter mine may be Sweet Kitty o' the Clyde. ftSiSi, 'lO ^^■v**/^*^*'*-*/^ THOU ART GANE AWA. 1 Hou art gane awa, thou art gane awa. Thou art gane awa frae me, Mary ! Nor friends nor 1 could make thee stay. Thou hast cheated them and me, Mary Until this hour 1 never thought That ought could alter thee, Mary ; Thou'rt still the mistress of my heart. Think what you will of me, Mary. 395 Whate'er he said, or might pretend. That staw that heart o' thine, Mary ; True love, I'm sure, was ne'er his end. Or nae sic love as mine, Mary. I spake sincere, nor flatter'd much, Nae selfish thoughts in me, Mary ; Ambition, wealth, nor naething such ; No, I lov'd only thee, Mary. Tho' you've been false, yet, while I live, FU lo'e nae maid but thee, Mary j Let friends forget, as 1 forgive Thy wrangs to them and me, Mary. So then, fareweel ! of this be sure. Since you've been false to me, Mary ; For a' the world I'd not endure Half what I've done for thee, Mary. THE BARD STRIKES HIS HARP. [By RicHAED Gall.] The bard strikes his harp the wild valleys amang, VVhare the tall aiken trees spreading leafy appear. While the murmuring breeze mingles sweet wi' his sang, And wafts the saft notes till they die on the ear ; But Mary, whase presence sic transport conveys, Whase beauties my moments o' pleasure control. On the strings o' my heart ever wantonly plays. And ilk languishing note is a sigh frae'my soul. Her breath is as sweet as the green-scented brier, That blossoms and blaws in the wild lanely glen ; When I ee her fair shape, which nae mortal can peer, A something o'erpow'rs me I dinna weel ken. 396 Her smiles are as sweet as the mild sunny rays. The bhnk o' her bonny black ee wha can thole ? On the strings o' my heart she bewitchingly plays. And ilk languishing note is a sigh frae my soul. THE HAWTHORN. [By I Hamilton, late teacher of music in Edinburgh.] One midsummer morning, all nature look'd gay, I met ray dear Jamie a-tedding the hay. Who said, my lovely treasure, come see where I dwell. Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale : That blooms in the valley, that blooms in the vale ; Seside the bonny hawthorn that blomns in the vale. He prais'd me, and said that his love was sincere. Not one on the green was so charming and fair ; I listen'd with pleasure to Jamie's tender tale. Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale. That blooms, S^c. O hark, bonny Bess, to the birds in yon grove. How delightfu' they sing, how inviting to love; The briers, deck'd wi' roses, perfume the fanning gale. Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale. That blooms, Sj-c. His looks were so pleasing, his words soft and kind. They told me the youth had no guile in his mind ; My heart, too, confess'd him the flower of all the dale. Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale. That blooms, ^c 397 I tried for to go, and oft said I could not stay. But he would not leave me, nor let me away ; Still pressing his suit, at last he did prevail. Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale. That blooms, Sfc. Now tell me, ye maidens, how I could refuse. His lips were so sweet, and so binding his vows ; We went and were married, and most cordially we dwell, Beside the bonny hawthorn that blooms in the vale. That blooms, S^^c. THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY. [By David Maljlet, the friend of Thomson, author of the ballad of " William and Margaret," and some plays and poems.] J. HE smiling morn, the breathing spring. Invite the tunefu' birds to sing ; And while they warble from each spray, Love melts the universal lay ; Let us, Amanda, timely wise, Like them improve the hour that flies. And in saft raptures waste the day Amang the birks of Invermay. For soon the winter of the year, And age, life's winter, will appear; At this thy lively bloom M^ll fade. As that will strip the verdant shade ; Our taste of pleasure then is o'er. The feather'd songsters please no more ; And when they droop and we decay. Adieu the birks of Invermay. 2 L 398 The lav'rocks now and lintwhltes sing. The rocks around wi* echoes ring. The mavis and the blackbird vye In tunefu' strains to glad the day ; The woods now wear their summer-suits. To mirth a' nature now invites; Let us be blythsome then, and gay Amang the birks of Invermay. Behold the hills and vales around With lowing herds and flocks abound ; The wanton kids and frisking lambs Gambol and dance about their dams ; The busy bees with humming noise. And a' the reptile kind rejoice ; Let us, like them, then sing and play About the birks of Invermay. Hark how the waters as they fa'. Loudly my love to gladness ca' ; The wanton waves sport in the beams. And fishes play throughout the streams ; The circling sun does now advance. And all the planets round him dance ; Let us as jovial be as they Amang the birks of Invermay. THE miller's daughter. I HAE been courting at a lass. These twenty days and mair ; Her father winna gi'e me her. She's sic a gleib of gear ; 399 But gin I had her where I wou'd^ Amang the hether here, I'd strive to win her kindness For a' the miller's care. For she's a bonny, sonsy lass. An armsfu*, I swear ; I wou'd marry her without a coat. Or e'er a plack o' gear ; For, trust me, when I saw her first. She ga'e me sic a wound. That a' the doctors i' the earth Can never mak me sound. For when she's absent frae my sight, I think upon her still. And when I sleep, or when I wake, She does my senses fill ; May Heaven guard the bonny lass, "That sweetens a' my life ; And shame fa' me gin e'er I seek Anither for my wife. MY SHEEP I NEGLECTED. [Written in 1743 by Sir Gilbert Elliot on the marriage of his mistress, Miss Forbes, with Ronald Crawford, Es(j.] Tune— iVfy Apron, deary. My sheep I neglected, I lost my sheep-hook. And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook, Nae mair for Amynta fresh garlands I wove. For ambition, I said, would soon cure me of love. 400 what had my youth with ambition to do ^ Why left 1 Amynta ? why broke I my vow ? O gi'e me my sheep, and my sheep-hook restore, I'll wander frae love and Amynta no more. Through regions remote in vain do I rove. And bid the wide ocean secure me from love ! O fool ! to imagine that ought can subdue A love so well founded^ a passion so true. what had my youth, &c. Alas ! 'tis o'er late at thy fate to repine ; Poor shepherd ! Amynta nae mair can be thine : Thy tears are a' fruitless, thy wishes are vain, The moments neglected return not again. what had my youth, &c. JAMIE O' THE GLEN. AuLD Rob tlie laird o' muckle land. To woo me was nae very blate. But spite o' a' his gear, he fand He came to woo a day o'er late. A lad sae blyth, saefull o' glee. My heart did never never ken, And nane can gie sic Joy to jne, As Jamie o' the glen. My minny grat like daft and rar'd. To gar me wi' her will comply ; But still I wadna hae the laird Wi' a' his ousen, sheep, and kye. A lad sae blyth, S^r. 401 Ah what are silks and sattins bra ? What's a' his warldly gear to me ? They're daft that cast themselves awa Where iiae content or luve can be. A lad sae blyth, S^c. I cou'd na bide the silly clash Cam hourly frae the gawky laird ; And sae to stop his gab and fash Wi' Jamie to the kirk repair'd. A lad sae hlyth, SfC. Now ilka simmer's day sae lang. And winter's clad wi' frost and snaw, A tunefu* lilt and bonny sang Ay keep dull care and strife awa. A lad sae blyth, S^c. THE LASS THAT WINNA SIT DOWN. Vv HAT think ye o' the scornfu' quine '111 no sit down by me ; I'll see the day that she'll repine. Unless she does agree. O she did hoot, and toot, and flout, 'Cause I bade her sit down ; But the next time that e'er I do't, I'll be whip't like a loon. WV a tirry, Sfc. And yet she is a charming quine, She's just o'er meikle spice ; I'll see the day that she'll be mine. For I'm nae very nice. 2 L 3 402 I loot the lassie tak* her will. An' stand upo' her shanks. The day may come when I will spoil Her bonny saucy pranks. TVr my tirry, 8^c, I laid my head upo' my loof, I did na' care a strae, I ken'd fow weel that in a joof Stand lang she wad nae sac. At last a blythesome lass did cry. Come, Sandy, gi'es a sang ; now, Meg dorts, I'll fairly try Your heart strings for to twang. Wi a tirry, Sfc. The lassie's pride it cou'd na' last, I sang wi* meikle glee. Until at last she fairly cast Upo' me a sheep's ee. Aha ! thinks I, my bonnie lass, Hae ye laid by your pride. You're bonnier now than e'er you was> And ye sail be my bride. Wi' your tirry , ^x. 1 ga'e the lass a lovin' squint. That made her blush sae red, I saw she fairly took the hint. Which made my heart fou glad. The bonnie lass is a' mine ain. For we twa did agree ; Now ilka night she's unco fain. For to lie doun wi' me, Wi' her tirry, S^c. 403 O GIN MY LOVE WERE YON RED ROSE. [To this beautiful old fragment, Burns often tried to add a stanza, and at length succeeded in producing" the two following, which he proposed should be the beginning of the song ;— . " O were ray love yon lilac fair Wi' purple blossoms to the spring ; And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing : " How I wad mourn when it was torn By autumn wild and winter rude ! But I wad sing on wanton wing. When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd."] Tune — Hughie Graham, O GIN my love were yon red rose. That grows upon the castle wa' ! And I ray sell a drap o' dew. Into her bonnie breast to fa'. Oh ! there beyond expression blest, I'd feast on beauty a* the night ; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest. Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light. I CARE NAE FOR YOUR EEN SAE BLUE, I CARE nae for your een sae blue. Unless your heart to me is true. Nor yet that dimpled cheek o' thine. Till every smile ye hae be mine. % 404 D'ye think I'll roose your shape an* air. Or ca' you bonie, sweet, an' fair. Unless ye can to me impart A look which say ye hae my heart. I care nae for your witching tongue. Which pleases a' an' pierces some. Until I hear that tongue declare Nane but mysell your heart shall share. An' gin that saft an' melting ee. Doth beam on me an' only me. My fate is seal'd, then I am thine> An' let me die when I repine. I'LL AY CA* IN BY YON TOWN. [By Buiivs.] Tll ay ca' in by yon town, And by yofi garden green again ,* /'// ay ca' in by yon town, And see my bonny Jean again. There's nane sail ken, there's nane sail guess. What brings me back the gate again. But she my fairest faithfu' lass. And stownlins we sail meet again. She'll wander by the aiken tree. When trystin-time draws near again; And when her lovely form I see, O haith, she's doubly dear again ! /'// ay ca', Sfc. 405 GO TO BERWICK JOHNNY. Go to Berwick Johnny, Bring her frae the border. Yon sweet bonnie lassie. Let her gae nae farder. English louns will twine ye O' the lovely treasure. But we'll let them ken, A sword wi' them we'll measure. Go to Berwick Johnny, An' regain your honour. Drive them o'er the Tweed, An' shaw our Scottish banner. I am Rab the King, An' ye are Jock my brither. But before we lose her. We'll a* there thegither. O', ARE YE SLEEPIN', MAGGIE ? [By Tannaiiill.] O, ARE ye sleeping Maggie? 0, are ye sleeping Maggie ? Let me in ^ for loud the linn Is roarin' o'er ike warlock craigie ! Mirk and rainy is the night. No a starn in a' the carey. Lightnings gleam athwart the lifl, And winds drive on wi' winter's fury. 406 Fearfu* soughs the boor- tree bank. The rifted wood roars wild and dreary. Loud the iron yate does clank. And cry o' howlets maks me eerie. O, are ye sleejpin', Sfc. Aboon my breath I daurna speak. For fear I rise your waukrife daddy : Cauld's the blast upon my cheek, O rise, rise, my bonny lady. 0, are ye sleepin', S^c, She op't the door, she let him in. He cuist aside his dreepin pladdie : Blaw your warst, ye rain and win'. Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye. Now since ye're wauken, Maggie^ Norv since ye're wauken, Maggie, What care I for howlets" cry, For boor-tree bank, or warlock craigie. ^^%.^/^%/%>/%%^y/^ HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATEE. Altho' my back be at the wa*. And though he be the fautor. Although my back be at the wa*. Yet here's his health in water. O wae gae by his wanton sides, Sae brawly's he could flatter ; Till for his sake I'm shghted sair. And dree the kintra clatter : But though my back be at the wa*, Yet here's his health in water. 407 MY LOVE HAS FORSAKEN ME. My love has forsaken me. Know ye for why ? Because he has flocks and herdSj And none have I. Whether I get hirrij whether I get him. Whether I get him or no ; J care not three fai'dins Whether I get him or no. But the rot may come amongst them;, And they may all die ; And then he'll be forsaken. Ay, as weel as I. Whether I get him, ^x. Meeting is a pleasure. And parting's a grief, And an inconstant lover Is worse than a thief. Whether I get him, S^c. A thief will but rob me. Take all that I have ; But an incpnstant lover Will bring me to my grave. Whether I get him, S^c. The grave it will rot me, And bring me to dus ; An inconstant lover No woman should trust. Whether I get him, <^c. 408 A» BODY'S LIKE TO BE MARRIED. [By Hajiilton.] As Jenny sat down wi' her wheel by the fire. And thought of the time that was fast fleein' by, She said to hersel', wi' a heavy heigh-hee, O, a' body's like to be married but me ! She said to hersel, ^c. My youthfu companions are a' worn awa'. And tho' I've had wooers mysel' ane or twa. Yet a lad to my mind I ne'er yet could see ; O, a' body's like to be married but me ! Yet a lad, Sfc. There's Lowrie, tlie lawyer, wad ha'e me fu' fain. Who has baith a house and a yard o' his ain ; But before I'd gang to it, I rather wad die; A wee stumpin' body ! hell never get rae ! But before, 8^c. There's Dickie, my cousin, frae Lun'on come dowii^ Wi* fine yellow buckskins that dazzled the town; But, poor deevil, he got ne'er a blink o' my ee : O, a' body's like to be married but me ! But, poor deevil, S^c. But I saw a lad by yon saughy-bum side, Wha weel wad deserve ony queen for his bride ; Gin I had my will, soon his ain I wad be : O, a' body's like to be married but me ! Gin I had my rviil, Sec, 409 I gied him a look, as a kind lassie shou'd ; My friends, if they kend it, wad surely rin wud; For tho' bonny and good, he's no worth a bawbee O, a' body's like to be married but me ! For tlio' bonny, Sfc. *Tis hard to tak shelter behint a laigh dike ; 'Tis hard for to tak ane we never can like ; 'Tis hard for to leave ane we fain wad be wi' ; Yet it's harder that a' should be married but me. 'Tis hard for to leave, Sfc. %/wvvw*-v-kw I WONDEU V/HEN I'LL BE MARRY'D. My father has forty good ^shillings, ha! ha! good shillings ! And never a daughter but I ; My mother she is right willing, ha! ha! right willing ! That I shall have all when they die. And I wonder when I'll he marry d, ha I ha ! he marry d ! My beauty begins to decay ; IV s time to catch ha'd o somebody, ha ! ha ! some* body I 'Before it be a' run away. My shoes they are at the mending. My buckles they are in the chest ; My stockings are ready for sending: Then I'll be as braw as the rest. And I wonder, S^x. My father will buy me a ladle. At my wedding we'll hae a good sang ; For my uncle will buy me a cradle. To rock my child in when it's young. And I wonder, c5'c. 2 M 410 AULB KING COUL. Our auid King Coul was a jolly auld soul. And a jolly auld soul was he ; Our auld King Coul fill'd a jolly brown bowl. And he ca'd for his fiddlers three : Every fiddler had a fine fiddle. And a very fine fiddle had he— Fidell-didell, fidell-didell. Quo' the fiddlers three ; There's no a lass in a' Scotland Like our sweet Marjorie. Our auld King Coul was a jolly auld sovt], And a jolly auld soul was he ; Our auld King Coul fill'd a jolly brown bowl. And he ca'd for his pipers three : Every piper had fine pipes. And very fine pipes had he— Ha didell, ho didell, quo' the pipers ; Fidell-fadell, fidell-fadell, quo' the fiddlers three; There's no a lass in a' Scotland Like our sweet Marjorie. Our auld King Coul was a jolly auld soul. And a jolly auld soul was he ; Our avdd King Coul fill'd a jolly brown bowl. And he ca'd for his harpers three : Ev'ry harper had a fine harp. And a very fine harp had he— ~ Twingle twangle, twingle twangle, quo' the harpers ; Ha didell, ho didell, quo' the pipers ; Fidell-fadell, fidell-fadell, quo* the fiddlers three ; There's no a lass in a' Scotland Like our sweet Marjorie. 4U Our auld King Coul was a jolly auld soul. And a jolly auld soul was he ; Our auld King Coul fill'd a jolly brown bowl, And he ca'd for his trumpeters three : Ev'ry trumpeter had a fine trumpet. And a very fine trumpet had he— Twara-rang, twara-rang, quo' tlie trumpeters ; Twingle twangle, twingle twangle, quo' the harpers; Ha didell, ho didell, quo' the pipers ; Fidell-fadell, fidell-fadell, quo' the fiddlers three ; There's no a lass in a' Scotland , Like our sweet Marjorie. Our auld King Coul was a jolly auld soul. And a jolly auld soul was he ; Our auld King Coul fiU'd a jolly brown bowl. And he ca'd for his drummers three : Ev'ry drummer had a fine drum. And a very fine drum had he — Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, quo' the driunmers ; Twara-rang, twara-rang, quo' the trumpeters ; Twingle twangle, twingle twangle, quo' the harpers ; Ha didell, ho didell, quo' the pipers ; Fidell-fadell, fidell-fadell, quo' the fiddlers tliree; There's no a lass in a' Scotland Like our sweet Marjorie. Tune — Andro and his cutty gun. Sly THE y blythCy aroun' the nappy ^ Let us join in social glee; While we're here we'll hae a drappy^ Scotia's sons hae ay beenjree. 412 Our auld forbears, when owre their yill. And cantie bickers roun' did ca'. Forsooth, they cried, anither gill. For sweer't we are to gang awa. Bhjthe, 4^c. Some heartie cock would then hae sang An auld Scotch sonnet afF wi' glee. Syne pledg'd his cog — the chorus rang, Auld Scotia and her sons are free. Blythe, S^c, Thus cracks, and jokes, and sangs gaed roun*. Till morn the screens o' light did draw. Yet driech to rise, the carls roun' Cry'd, Deuch-an-dhorus, then awa. Blythe, S^^c. The landlord then the nappy brings. An' toasts fu' happy a' may be. Syne tooras the cog — the choru* rings, Auld Scotia's sons shall ay be free. Blythe, tj-c. Then like our dads o' auld langsyne. Let social glee unite us a'. Ay blythe to meet, our mou's to weet. But ay as sweer't to gang awa. Blythe, S^c, A COGIE OF ALE. A COG IE of ale, and a pickle ait meal. And a dainty wee drappy of whiskyj Was our forefathers dose to swiel down their brose And liiak' them blythe, cheery, an' frisky. 413 Then hey.for the cogie, and hey for the ale, And hey for the whisky, and hey for the meal ; When mix'd «' the gethcr they do unco rveel. To mak' a chield cheery and brisk ay. As I view our Scots lads, in their kilts and cockades^ A' blooming and fresh as a rose, man ; I think wi' myseir, O ! the meal and the ale. And the fruits of our Scottish kail-brose, man. Then hey for the cogie, &c. When our brave Highland blades, \vi' their claymores and plaids. In the field, drive like sheep, a' our foes, man ; Their courage and power, spring frae this, to be siu'e. They're the noble effects of the brose, man. Then hey for the cogie, &c. But your spindle-shanked sparks, wha but ill set their sarks. And your pale-visag'd milksops, and beaus, man, I think when I see them, 'twere kindness to gi'e them, A cogie of ale and of brose, man. . • Then hey for the cogie, &c. MEDLEY. Tune — Calder Fair, Was ne'er in Scotland heard or seen Sic dancin' and deray, • As at Patie's weddin' on the green To bonny Mary Gray. Busk ye, busk ye bonny bride. Quo' the wife ayont the fire. And lea' the rock and wee pickle tow. And the muckin' o' Geordie's byre. 1 414 Syne four-and- twenty fiddlers cam,' Wi' piper Rob the ranter. He made them fain to follow him Whan he blew up his chamiter. Fye let us to the bridal a'. Cried bonny blue-ey'd Nelly, For I'll dance, whistle o'er the lave o't there^ Wi' the glee'd Earl o' Kellie. Then bonny Jean frae Aberdeen Cam' thro' the haughs o' Bogie ; And Johnny Fa cam in sae braw, Wi dainty Katharine Ogie. x\nd wanderin' Willie cam' frae 'mang The birks of Invermay ; And Jenny Nettles took the road Wi' poor auld Robin Gray. And honest auld John Andersoa Cam' tottrin' down the hill ; And dainty Davie he brought in The lass o' Pattie's mill. Poor Duncan Gray sigh'd out and in. And made an unco bother. An' spake o* loupin' o'er a linn If he gat na Maggie Lauder, Sweet Marion frae the ewe-bughts cam', A gauger cam' frae Fife, But the rantin' rovin' Highlandman Had maistly ta'en his life. Hersel' was Highland shentleman. The breeks she didna like, man ; She didna like the gauger loun. Nor yet the turnimspike man. n 41, Frae up amang the cliffy rocks Cam' Robin x\dair ; And Sandy o'er the lea has left The bush aboon Traquair. The tailor cam' to clout the claisc, Wi' fleas he fill'd the ha -, But by my saul they gat the rout Frae Donald and Maggie Macraw. At dinner now they dit their mou' Wi mony a reekin' cogie ; There was cauld kail frae Aberdeen, And bannocks frae Strathbogie ; And there was brose and butter too. And meikle store o' lang kail ; Ye might hae crack'd a louse on Maggie's wame, She supp'd sae mony pan-kail. A ewie wi' a crooked horn. The haggles in a pat ; The kail brose o' auld Scotland too. And herrins laid in sa't. And Willie brew'd a peck o' ma't That set them a' a-roarin' ; The fiddlers rubb'd their fiddle-sticks. An' ga'e them Tullochgorum. Syne Highland folk and Lawland folk They danc'd wi' meikle pride ; And merrily danc'd the Quaker's wife Wi' the lads frae Erroch-side. Poor Johnny's grey-breeks burst the steeks, And rave up to the gavel ; And Jeanie Diver bade them play The catie rade the padel. d 416 And Tibbie Fowler o' the glen. For lack o' good folk, pu'd at her ; Fint a ane wad she dance wi' But the lads frae Galla water. But Andrew, wi' his cuttie gun. He gae her pride a fa' ; The lassie tint her silken snood Amang the pease straw. The auld Stewarts bade the fiddlers play The sow's tail to Geordie ; And the Border bowmen knock'd them down For saying sic a wordie. Then Lewis Gordon started up, Wi' Highland Harry bra man ; And Donald McDonald fought like fire, Wi' knees and elbows an' a' man. The laddie wi' the white cockade He made an unco play ; But Johnny Cope he tint a' hope, I trow he got a fley. He didna like the lang claymore. Nor philabegs ava, man ; So aff he ran wi' might and main. Sighing, I'm wearin' awa, man. But W^illie was a wanton wag. He bore the gree awa' ; And Berwick Johnny skirl'd sae loud. Up Willie, war them a'. When wild war's deadly blast was blawn. And peace return'd to a'. The jiipers a' play'd up, Gude night. And joy be wi' ye a'. FINIS. Gilchrist & Heriot, Printers, I.eitlu m r r f c GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKELEY i BDDDa7DDlE