Ah no! her form's too heav'nly fair, Her love the gods above must share; While mortals with despair explore her, And at distance due adore her. O lovely maid! my doubts beguile, Revive and bless me with a smile : Alas! if not, you'll soon debar a Sighing swain the banks of Yarrow. Be hush, ye fears, I'll not despair; My Mary's tender as she's fair; Then I'll go tell her all mine anguish, She is too good to let me languish : With success crown'd, I'll not envy The folks who dwell above the sky; When Mary Scott's become my marrow, We'll make a paradise in Yarrow. THE HIGHLAND QUEEN. THE Highland Queen, music and poetry, was composed by a Mr. M'Vicar, purser of the Solbay man of war.-This I had from Dr. Blacklock.-BURNS. Tune-"The Highland Queen.", No more my song shall be, ye swains, To celebrate, to celebrate, In her sweet innocence you'll find A matchless shape and lovely mein No sordid wish or trifling joy The brightest nymph that trips the green How blest the youth, whose gentle fate THE MUCKIN' O' GEORDIE'S BYRE. THE chorus of this song is old.The rest is the work of Balloon Tytler.—BURNS. Tune-"The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre." It was ne'er my father's will, The mouse is a merry beast, It was ne'er my father's will, Nor yet my mither's desire, That e'er I should fyle my fingers Wi' muckin' o' Geordie's byre. MACPHERSON'S FAREWELL, ALSO KNOWN AS MACPHERSON'S RANT. He was a daring robber in the beginning of this (eighteenth) century-was condemned to be hanged at Inverness. He is said, when under sentence of death, to have composed this tune, which he called his own Lainent, or Farewell. Gow has published a variation of this fine tune, as his own composition, which he calls "The Princess Augusta."-BURNS. I've spent my time in rioting, Debauch'd my health and strength: To hang upon a tree. To hang upon a tree, a tree, That cursed unhappy death; Like to a wolf to worried be, And choaked in the breath: My very heart would surely break When this I think upon, Did not my courage singular Bid pensive thoughts begone. A singularly learned but unhappy person. He lived at too early a stage of the world: before there was toleration in Britain, which he was obliged to quit (1793) because of his democratical writings: when he took refuge at Salem as a newspaper editor. He also lived before there were Temperance Societies any where. No man on earth, tnat draweth breath, The Egyptian band I did command, His soldiers in the war. Being feared by all, both great and small, I liv'd most joyfullie: Oh, curse upon this fate o' mine, As for my life I do not care, If justice would take place, But Peter Brown, that notour loon, Both law and justice buried are, The guilty pass unpunished, The Laird o' Graunt, that Highland Saunt, His mighty majestie, He pleads the cause of Peter Brown, The destiny of my life contrived, As for my life, it is but short, Therefore, good people all, take heed, Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; Cold blaws the wind frae east to west, Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast, UP IN THE MORNING EARLY CAULD blaws the wind frae north to south, The sheep are courin' in the heuch: Loud roars the blast amang the woods, Now up in the mornin's no for me, To sit a' nicht wad better agree Than rise in the mornin' early. GALA WATER. How happy am I, When my soldier is by, I HAVE heard a concluding verse sung to While he kisses and blesses his Annie, O! these words-it is, AN' ay she came at e'enin fa', Amang the yellow broom, sae eerie, To seek the snood o' silk she tint ; She fan na it, but gat her dearie.-BURNS. The original song of Gala-water was thus recited by a resident in that very pastoral district. BONNIE lass of Gala-water; Braw, braw lass of Gala-water! I would wade the stream sae deep, Braw, braw lads of Gala-water; Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brow, Sae bonnie blue her een, my dearie; Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou', I often kiss her till I'm wearie. O'er yon bank, and o'er yon brae, O'er yon moss amang the heather; I'll kilt my coat ahoon my knee, And follow my love thro' the water. Down amang the broom, the broom, Down amang the broom, my dearie; The lassie lost her silken snood, 'Tis a soldier alone can delight me, O, I'll fear no war's alarms, My love is a handsome laddie, O, Yet I'll buy him one this year; But the ladies or the king; For ev'ry other care is but slavery, O. Then I'll be the captain's lady, O; But I'll follow with the drum, When on my soldier's knee, And he kisses and blesses his Annie, O' FOR LACK OF GOLD. THE Country girls in Ayrshire, instead of the line DUMBARTON DRUMS. say, She me forsook for a great duke, For Athole's duke she me forsook; which I take to be the original reading. THIS is the last of the West Highland airs; and from it, over the whole tract of country to the confines of Tweedside, there is hardly a These words were composed by the late Dr. tune or song that one can say has taken its origin from any place or transaction in that part of Austin, physician at Edinburgh. He had Scotland. The oldest Ayrshire reel, is Stew-courted a lady, to whom he was shortly to arton Lasses, which was made by the father of have been married: but the Duke of Athole the present Sir Walter Montgomery Cunning- having seen her, became so much in love with ham, alias Lord Lyle; since which period there her, that he made proposals of marriage, which has indeed been local music in that country in were accepted of, and she jilted the Doctor.-great plenty. Johnie Faa is the only old song which I could ever trace as belonging to the extensive county of Ayr.-BURNS. The poet has fallen under a mistake here :— the drums here celebrated were not those of the town, or garrison of Dumbarton; but of the regiment commanded by Lord Dumbarton-a cavalier of the house of Douglas-who signalized himself on the Jacobite side in 1695.—The old song was as follows: DUMBARTON's drums beat bonny, O, BURNS. DR. AUSTIN. Tune-" For Lack of Gold." FOR lack of gold she has left me, O; Jean, daughter of John Drummond, of Megginch, Esq. WALY, WALY. IN the west country I have heard a different edition of the second stanza.-Instead of the four lines, beginning with," When cockle shells." &c. the other way ran thus: O WHEREFORE need I busk my head, O WALY waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly by yon burn-side, Where I and my love were wont to gae. I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trustie trie; But first it bow'd, and syne it brake, And sae my true love did lyghtlie me. O waly waly gin love be bonnie A little time while it is new ; And fades awa' like morning-dew. And says he'll never loe me mair. The sheits shall neir be fyl'd by me : Saint Anton's well sall be my drink, Since my true love has forsaken me. Marti'mas wind, whan wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves aff the trie? Mair fond of her charms, with my son in her O gentle death, whan wilt thou cum? arms, A ferlying speer'd how she fell-O ; For of my life I am wearie. Wi' the tear in her eye, quoth she, let me die, 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Sweet Sir, gin I can tell-O. The remaining two stanzas, though pretty enough, partake rather too much of the rude simplicity of the Olden time" to be admitted here.-Ed. Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie ; 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my love's heart grown cauld to me. Whan we came in by Glasgowe town, We were a comely sight to see; My love was clad i' th' black velvet, And I mysell in cramasie. But had I wist before I kisst, That love had been sae ill to win, I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd, And I mysell were dead and gone, TODLEN HAME. There's Johnie Smith has got a wife My cogie, Sirs, &c.—BURNS. CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN. THERE'S cauld kail in Aberdeen, THIS is, perhaps, the first bottle song that Gie me a lass baith clean and tight, ever was composed -BURNS. To dance the Reel of Bogie. 129 In cotillons the French excel; Come, lads, and view your partners well, Now ilka lad has got a lass, Now a' the lads hae done their best, Come now, my lads, and tak your glass, In wishing health to every lass THIS song is by the Duke of Gordon.-The To dance the Reel of Bogie. verses are, THERE'S cauid kail in Aberdeen, And castocks in Strabogie; When ilka lad maun hae his lass, Then fye, gie me my cogie. My cogie, Sirs, my cogie, Sirs, I cannot want my cogie: I wadna gie my three-girr'd stoup For a' the quenes on Bogie. WE RAN AND THEY RAN. THE author of We ran and they ran, and they ran and we ran, &c. was the late Rev Murdoch M Lennan, minister at Crathie, De side.-BURNS. |