No More Learning

When a child, an old woman sung it to
me, and I picked it up, every word, at first hearing.

"O Willy, weel I mind, I lent you my hand
To sing you a song which you did me command;
But my memory's so bad I had almost forgot
That you called it the gear and the blaithrie o't. --

I'll not sing about confusion, delusion or pride,
I'll sing about a laddie was for a virtuous bride;
For virtue is an ornament that time will never rot,
And preferable to gear and the blaithrie o't. --

Tho' my lassie hae nae scarlets or silks to put on,
We envy not the greatest that sits upon the throne;
I wad rather hae my lassie, tho' she cam in her smock,
Than a princess wi' the gear and the blaithrie o't. --

Tho' we hae nae horses or menzies at command,
We will toil on our foot, and we'll work wi' our hand;
And when wearied without rest, we'll find it sweet in any spot,
And we'll value not the gear and the blaithrie o't. --

If we hae ony babies, we'll count them as lent;
Hae we less, hae we mair, we will ay be content;
For they say they hae mair pleasure that wins bu groat,
Than the miser wi' his gear and the blaithrie o't--

I'll not meddle wi' th' affairs of the kirk or the queen;
They're nae matters for a sang, let them sink, let them swim;
On your kirk I'll ne'er encroach, but I'll hold it stil remote,
Sae tak this for the gear and the blaithrie o't. "

* * * * *


MAY EVE, OR KATE OF ABERDEEN.

"Kate of Aberdeen" is, I believe, the work of poor Cunningham the
player; of whom the following anecdote, though told before, deserves a
recital. A fat dignitary of the church coming past Cunningham one
_Sunday_, as the poor poet was busy plying a fishing-rod in some
stream near Durham, his native country, his reverence reprimanded
Cunningham very severely for such an occupation on such a day. The
poor poet, with that inoffensive gentleness of manners which was his
peculiar characteristic, replied, that he hoped God and his reverence
would forgive his seeming profanity of that sacred day, "_as he had no
dinner to eat, but what lay at the bottom of that pool_! " This, Mr.
Woods, the player, who knew Cunningham well, and esteemed him much,
assured me was true.

* * * * *


TWEED SIDE.

In Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, he tells us that about thirty of the
songs in that publication were the works of some young gentlemen of
his acquaintance; which songs are marked with the letters D. C.
&c. --Old Mr. Tytler of Woodhouselee, the worthy and able defender of
the beauteous Queen of Scots, told me that the songs marked C, in the
_Tea-table_, were the composition of a Mr. Crawfurd, of the house of
Achnames, who was afterwards unfortunately drowned coming from
France. --As Tytler was most intimately acquainted with Allan Ramsay, I
think the anecdote may be depended on. Of consequence, the beautiful
song of Tweed Side is Mr. Crawfurd's, and indeed does great honour to
his poetical talents. He was a Robert Crawfurd; the Mary he celebrates
was a Mary Stewart, of the Castle-Milk family, afterwards married to a
Mr. John Ritchie.

I have seen a song, calling itself the original Tweed Side, and said
to have been composed by a Lord Yester. It consisted of two stanzas,
of which I still recollect the first--

"When Maggy and I was acquaint,
I carried my noddle fu' hie;
Nae lintwhite on a' the green plain,
Nor gowdspink sae happy as me:
But I saw her sae fair and I lo'ed:
I woo'd, but I came nae great speed;
So now I maun wander abroad,
And lay my banes far frae the Tweed. "--

* * * * *


THE POSY.

It appears evident to me that Oswald composed his _Roslin Castle_ on
the modulation of this air. --In the second part of Oswald's, in the
three first bars, he has either hit on a wonderful similarity to, or
else he has entirely borrowed the three first bars of the old air; and
the close of both tunes is almost exactly the same. The old verses to
which it was sung, when I took down the notes from a country girl's
voice, had no great merit. --The following is a specimen:

"There was a pretty May, and a milkin she went;
Wi' her red rosy cheeks, and her coal black hair;
And she has met a young man a comin o'er the bent,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.

O where are ye goin, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, and thy coal black hair?
Unto the yowes a milkin, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.

What if I gang alang with thee, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, any thy coal-black hair;
Wad I be aught the warse o' that, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May. "

* * * * *


MARY'S DREAM.

The Mary here alluded to is generally supposed to be Miss Mary
Macghie, daughter to the Laird of Airds, in Galloway. The poet was a
Mr. John Lowe, who likewise wrote another beautiful song, called
Pompey's Ghost. --I have seen a poetic epistle from him in North
America, where he now is, or lately was, to a lady in Scotland. --By
the strain of the verses, it appeared that they allude to some love
affair.

* * * * *


THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS.

BY MR. DUDGEON.

This Dudgeon is a respectable farmer's son in Berwickshire.

* * * * *


I WISH MY LOVE WERE IN A MIRE.

I never heard more of the words of this old song than the title.

* * * * *


ALLAN WATER.

This Allan Water, which the composer of the music has honoured with
the name of the air, I have been told is Allan Water, in Strathallan.

* * * * *


THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

This is one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots, or any other
language. --The two lines,

"And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak! "

as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything I
ever heard or read: and the lines,

"The present moment is our ain,
The neist we never saw,"--

are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days.
About the year 1771, or 72, it came first on the streets as a ballad;
and I suppose the composition of the song was not much anterior to
that period.

* * * * *


TARRY WOO.

This is a very pretty song; but I fancy that the first half stanza, as
well as the tune itself, are much older than the rest of the words.

* * * * *


GRAMACHREE.

The song of Gramachree was composed by a Mr. Poe, a counsellor at law
in Dublin. This anecdote I had from a gentleman who knew the lady, the
"Molly," who is the subject of the song, and to whom Mr. Poe sent the
first manuscript of his most beautiful verses. I do not remember any
single line that has more true pathos than

"How can she break that honest heart that wears her in its core! "

But as the song is Irish, it had nothing to do in this collection.

* * * * *


THE COLLIER'S BONNIE LASSIE.

The first half stanza is much older than the days of Ramsay. --The old
words began thus:

"The collier has a dochter, and, O, she's wonder bonnie!
A laird he was that sought her, rich baith in lands and money.
She wad na hae a laird, nor wad she be a lady,
But she wad hae a collier, the colour o' her daddie. "

* * * * *


MY AIN KIND DEARIE-O.

The old words of this song are omitted here, though much more
beautiful than these inserted; which were mostly composed by poor
Fergusson, in one of his merry humours. The old words began thus:

"I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O,
I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O,
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wat,
And I were ne'er sae weary, O;
I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O. "--

* * * * *


MARY SCOTT, THE FLOWER OF YARROW.

Mr. Robertson, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk,
says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from the
Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter was married
to a predecessor of the present Sir Francis Elliot, of Stobbs, and of
the late Lord Heathfield.

There is a circumstance in their contract of marriage that merits
attention, and it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times.
The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time after the
marriage; for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the
profits of the first Michaelmas moon!

* * * * *


DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.

I have been informed, that the tune of "Down the burn, Davie," was the
composition of David Maigh, keeper of the blood slough hounds,
belonging to the Laird of Riddel, in Tweeddale.

* * * * *


BLINK O'ER THE BURN, SWEET BETTIE.

The old words, all that I remember, are,--

"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
It is a cauld winter night:
It rains, it hails, it thunders,
The moon, she gies nae light:
It's a' for the sake o' sweet Betty,
That ever I tint my way;
Sweet, let me lie beyond thee
Until it be break o' day. --

O, Betty will bake my bread,
And Betty will brew my ale,
And Betty will be my love,
When I come over the dale:
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
Blink over the burn to me,
And while I hae life, dear lassie,
My ain sweet Betty thou's be. "

* * * * *


THE BLITHSOME BRIDAL.

I find the "Blithsome Bridal" in James Watson's collection of Scots
poems, printed at Edinburgh, in 1706. This collection, the publisher
says, is the first of its nature which has been published in our own
native Scots dialect--it is now extremely scarce.

* * * * *


JOHN HAY'S BONNIE LASSIE.

John Hay's "Bonnie Lassie" was daughter of John Hay, Earl or Marquis
of Tweeddale, and late Countess Dowager of Roxburgh. --She died at
Broomlands, near Kelso, some time between the years 1720 and 1740.

* * * * *


THE BONIE BRUCKET LASSIE.

The two first lines of this song are all of it that is old. The rest
of the song, as well as those songs in the Museum marked T. , are the
works of an obscure, tippling, but extraordinary body of the name of
Tytler, commonly known by the name of Balloon Tytler, from his having
projected a balloon; a mortal, who, though he drudges about Edinburgh
as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky-lighted hat, and
knee-buckles as unlike as George-by-the-grace-of-God, and
Solomon-the-son-of-David; yet that same unknown drunken mortal is
author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous Encyclopedia
Britannica, which he composed at half a guinea a week!

* * * * *


SAE MERRY AS WE TWA HA'E BEEN.

This song is beautiful. --The chorus in particular is truly pathetic. I
never could learn anything of its author.

CHORUS.

"Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been;
My heart is like for to break,
When I think on the days we ha'e seen. "

* * * * *


THE BANKS OF FORTH.

This air is Oswald's.

* * * * *


THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.

This is another beautiful song of Mr. Crawfurd's composition. In the
neighbourhood of Traquair, tradition still shows the old "Bush;"
which, when I saw it, in the year 1787, was composed of eight or nine
ragged birches. The Earl of Traquair has planted a clump of trees near
by, which he calls "The New Bush. "

* * * * *


CROMLET'S LILT.

The following interesting account of this plaintive dirge was
communicated to Mr. Riddel by Alexander Fraser Tytler, Esq. , of
Woodhouselee.

"In the latter end of the sixteenth century, the Chisolms were
proprietors of the estate of Cromlecks (now possessed by the
Drummonds). The eldest son of that family was very much attached to a
daughter of Sterling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name of Fair
Helen of Ardoch.

"At that time the opportunities of meeting betwixt the sexes were more
rare, consequently more sought after than now; and the Scottish
ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, were
thought sufficiently book-learned if they could make out the
Scriptures in their mother-tongue. Writing was entirely out of the
line of female education. At that period the most of our young men of
family sought a fortune, or found a grave, in France. Cromlus, when he
went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the management of his
correspondence with his mistress to a lay-brother of the monastery of
Dumblain, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cromleck, and near Ardoch.
This man, unfortunately, was deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He
artfully prepossessed her with stories to the disadvantage of Cromlus;
and, by misinterpreting or keeping up the letters and messages
intrusted to his care, he entirely irritated both. All connexion was
broken off betwixt them; Helen was inconsolable, and Cromlus has left
behind him, in the ballad called 'Cromlet's Lilt,' a proof of the
elegance of his genius, as well as the steadiness of his love.

"When the artful monk thought time had sufficiently softened Helen's
sorrow, he proposed himself as a lover: Helen was obdurate: but at
last, overcome by the persuasions of her brother, with whom she lived,
and who, having a family of thirty-one children, was probably very
well pleased to get her off his hands--she submitted, rather than
consented to the ceremony; but there her compliance ended; and, when
forcibly put into bed, she started quite frantic from it, screaming
out, that after three gentle taps on the wainscot, at the bed-head,
she heard Cromlus's voice, crying, 'Helen, Helen, mind me! ' Cromlus
soon after coming home, the treachery of the confidant was
discovered,--her marriage disannulled,--and Helen became Lady
Cromlecks. "

N. B. Marg. Murray, mother to these thirty-one children, was daughter
to Murray of Strewn, one of the seventeen sons of Tullybardine, and
whose youngest son, commonly called the Tutor of Ardoch, died in the
year 1715, aged 111 years.

* * * * *


MY DEARIE, IF THOU DIE.

Another beautiful song of Crawfurd's.

* * * * *


SHE ROSE AND LOOT ME IN.

The old set of this song, which is still to be found in printed
collections, is much prettier than this; but somebody, I believe it
was Ramsay, took it into his head to clear it of some seeming
indelicacies, and made it at once more chaste and more dull.

* * * * *


GO TO THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.

I am not sure if this old and charming air be of the South, as is
commonly said, or of the North of Scotland. There is a song,
apparently as ancient us "Ewe-bughts, Marion," which sings to the same
tune, and is evidently of the North. --It begins thus:

"The Lord o' Gordon had three dochters,
Mary, Marget, and Jean,
They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon,
But awa to Aberdeen. "

* * * * *


LEWIS GORDON.

This air is a proof how one of our Scots tunes comes to be composed
out of another. I have one of the earliest copies of the song, and it
has prefixed,

"Tune of Tarry Woo. "--

Of which tune a different set has insensibly varied into a different
air. --To a Scots critic, the pathos of the line,

"'Tho' his back be at the wa',"

--must be very striking. It needs not a Jacobite prejudice to be
affected with this song.

The supposed author of "Lewis Gordon" was a Mr. Geddes, priest, at
Shenval, in the Ainzie.

* * * * *


O HONE A RIE.

Dr. Blacklock informed me that this song was composed on the infamous
massacre of Glencoe.

* * * * *


I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE.

This is another of Crawfurd's songs, but I do not think in his
happiest manner. --What an absurdity, to join such names as _Adonis_
and _Mary_ together!

* * * * *


CORN RIGS ARE BONIE.

All the old words that ever I could meet to this air were the
following, which seem to have been an old chorus:

"O corn rigs and rye rigs,
O corn rigs are bonie;
And where'er you meet a bonie lass,
Preen up her cockernony. "

* * * * *


THE MUCKING OF GEORDIE'S BYRE.

The chorus of this song is old; the rest is the work of Balloon
Tytler.

* * * * *


BIDE YE YET.

There is a beautiful song to this tune, beginning,

"Alas, my son, you little know,"--

which is the composition of Miss Jenny Graham, of Dumfries.

* * * * *


WAUKIN O' THE FAULD.

There are two stanzas still sung to this tune, which I take to be the
original song whence Ramsay composed his beautiful song of that name
in the Gentle Shepherd. --It begins

"O will ye speak at our town,
As ye come frae the fauld. "

I regret that, as in many of our old songs, the delicacy of this old
fragment is not equal to its wit and humour.

* * * * *


TRANENT-MUIR.

"Tranent-Muir," was composed by a Mr. Skirving, a very worthy
respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often,
that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to
Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to
Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner
in which he had noticed him in his song. "Gang away back," said the
honest farmer, "and tell Mr. Smith that I hae nae leisure to come to
Haddington; but tell him to come here, and I'll tak a look o' him, and
if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no, I'll do as
he did--_I'll rin awa. "_--

* * * * *


TO THE WEAVERS GIN YE GO.

The chorus of this song is old, the rest of it is mine. Here, once for
all, let me apologize for many silly compositions of mine in this
work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; in the hurry of other
avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together anything
near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass. He must be an excellent
poet indeed whose every performance is excellent.

* * * * *


POLWARTH ON THE GREEN.

The author of "Polwarth on the Green" is Capt. John Drummond M'Gregor,
of the family of Bochaldie.

* * * * *


STREPHON AND LYDIA.

The following account of this song I had from Dr. Blacklock.

The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the song were perhaps the
loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known by
the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the "Gentle Jean," celebrated
somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's poems. --Having frequently met at
public places, they had formed a reciprocal attachment, which their
friends thought dangerous, as their resources were by no means
adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To elude the bad
consequences of such a connexion, Strephon was sent abroad with a
commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's expedition to Carthagena.

The author of this song was William Wallace, Esq. of Cairnhill, in
Ayrshire.

* * * * *


I'M O'ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET.

The chorus of this song is old. The rest of it, such as it is, is
mine.

* * * * *


M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.

M'Pherson, a daring robber, in the beginning of this century, was
condemned to be hanged at the assizes of Inverness. He is said, when
under sentence of death, to have composed this tune, which he called
his own lament or farewell.

Gow has published a variation of this fine tune as his own
composition, which he calls "The Princess Augusta. "

* * * * *


MY JO, JANET.

Johnson, the publisher, with a foolish delicacy, refused to insert the
last stanza of this humorous ballad.

* * * * *


THE SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.

The words by a Mr. R. Scott, from the town or neighbourhood of Biggar.

* * * * *


THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.

I composed these stanzas standing under the falls of Aberfeldy, at or
near Moness.

* * * * *


THE HIGHLAND LASSIE O.

This was a composition of mine in very early life, before I was known
at all in the world. My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted, charming
young creature as ever blessed a man with generous love.
After a
pretty long tract of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met by
appointment on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot by the
banks of Ayr, where we spent the day in taking a farewell before she
should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters among her
friends for our projected change of life. At the close of autumn
following she crossed the sea to meet me at Greenock, where she had
scarce landed when she was seized with a malignant fever, which
hurried my dear girl to the grave in a few days, before I could even
hear of her last illness.

* * * * *


FIFE, AND A' THE LANDS ABOUT IT.

This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He, as well as I, often gave Johnson
verses, trifling enough perhaps, but they served as a vehicle to the
music.

* * * * *


WERE NA MY HEART LIGHT I WAD DIE.

Lord Hailes, in the notes to his collection of ancient Scots poems,
says that this song was the composition of a Lady Grissel Baillie,
daughter of the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie,
of Jerviswood.

* * * * *


THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.

This song is the composition of Balloon Tytler.

* * * * *


STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.

This air in the composition of one of the worthiest and best-hearted
men living--Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edinburgh. As he and I
were both sprouts of Jacobitism we agreed to dedicate the words and
air to that cause.

To tell the matter-of-fact, except when my passions were heated by
some accidental cause, my Jacobitism was merely by way of _vive la
bagatelle. _

* * * * *


UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.

The chorus of this is old; the two stanzas are mine.

* * * * *


THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.

Dr. Blacklock told me that Smollet, who was at the bottom a great
Jacobite, composed these beautiful and pathetic verses on the infamous
depredations of the Duke of Cumberland after the battle of Culloden.

* * * * *


WHAT WILL I DO GIN MY HOGGIE DIE.

Dr. Walker, who was minister at Moffat in 1772, and is now (1791)
Professor of Natural History in the University of Edinburgh, told the
following anecdote concerning this air. --He said, that some gentlemen,
riding a few years ago through Liddesdale, stopped at a hamlet
consisting of a few houses, called Moss Platt, when they were struck
with this tune, which an old woman, spinning on a rock at her door,
was singing. All she could tell concerning it was, that she was taught
it when a child, and it was called "What will I do gin my Hoggie die? "
No person, except a few females at Moss Platt, knew this fine old
tune, which in all probability would have been lost had not one of the
gentlemen, who happened to have a flute with him, taken it down.

* * * * *


I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE SPRINGING.

These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen, and are among the
oldest of my printed pieces.

* * * * *


AH! THE POOR SHEPHERD'S MOURNFUL FATE.

Tune--"Gallashiels. "

The old title, "Sour Plums o' Gallashiels," probably was the beginning
of a song to this air, which is now lost.

The tune of Gallashiels was composed about the beginning of the
present century by the Laird of Gallashiel's piper.

* * * * *


THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.

These verses were composed on a charming girl, a Miss Charlotte
Hamilton, who is now married to James M'Kitrick Adair, Esq. ,
physician. She is sister to my worthy friend Gavin Hamilton, of
Mauchline, and was born on the banks of the Ayr, but was, at the time
I wrote these lines, residing at Herveyston, in Clackmannanshire, on
the romantic banks of the little river Devon. I first heard the air
from a lady in Inverness, and got the notes taken down for this work.

* * * * *


MILL, MILL O.

The original, or at least a song evidently prior to Ramsay's is still
extant. --It runs thus,

CHORUS.

"The mill, mill O, and the kill, kill O,
And the coggin o' Peggy's wheel, O,
The sack and the sieve, and a' she did leave,
And danc'd the miller's reel O. --

As I came down yon waterside,
And by yon shellin-hill O,
There I spied a bonie bonie lass,
And a lass that I lov'd right well O. "

* * * * *


WE RAN AND THEY RAN.

The author of "We ran and they ran"--was a Rev. Mr. Murdoch M'Lennan,
minister at Crathie, Dee-side.

* * * * *


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,
Or wherefore need I kame my hair,
Sin my fause luve has me forsook,
And sys, he'll never luve me mair. "

* * * * *


DUNCAN GRAY.

Dr. Blacklock informed me that he had often heard the tradition, that
this air was composed by a carman in Glasgow.

* * * * *


DUMBARTON DRUMS.

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 tune
or song that one can say has taken its origin from any place or
transaction in that part of Scotland. --The oldest Ayrshire reel, is
Stewarton Lasses, which was made by the father of the present Sir
Walter Montgomery Cunningham, alias Lord Lysle; since which period
there has indeed been local music in that country in great
plenty. --Johnie Faa is the only old song which I could ever trace as
belonging to the extensive county of Ayr.

* * * * *


CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.

This song is by the Duke of Gordon. --The old verses are,

"There's cauld kail in Aberdeen,
And castocks in Strathbogie;
When ilka lad maun hae his lass,
Then fye, gie me my coggie.

CHORUS.

My coggie, Sirs, my coggie, Sirs,
I cannot want my coggie;
I wadna gie my three-girr'd cap
For e'er a quene on Bogie. --

There's Johnie Smith has got a wife,
That scrimps him o' his coggie,
If she were mine, upon my life
I wad douk her in a bogie. "

* * * * *


FOR LAKE OF GOLD.

The country girls in Ayrshire, instead of the line--

"She me forsook for a great duke,"

say

"For Athole's duke she me forsook;"

which I take to be the original reading.

These were composed by the late Dr. Austin, physician at
Edinburgh. --He had courted a lady, to whom he was shortly to have been
married; but the Duke of Athole having seen her, became so much in
love with her, that he made proposals of marriage, which were accepted
of, and she jilted the doctor.

* * * * *


HERE'S A HEALTH TO MY TRUE LOVE, &c.

This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He told me that tradition gives the air
to our James IV. of Scotland.

* * * * *


HEY TUTTI TAITI.

I Have met the tradition universally over Scotland, and particularly
about Stirling, in the neighbourhood of the scene, that this air was
Robert Bruce's march at the battle of Bannockburn.

* * * * *


RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING.

I Composed these verses on Miss Isabella M'Leod, of Raza, alluding to
her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy
death of her sister's husband, the late Earl of Loudon; who shot
himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered,
owing to the deranged state of his finances.

* * * * *


TAK YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YE.

A part of this old song, according to the English set of it, is quoted
in Shakspeare.

* * * * *


YE GODS, WAS STREPHON'S PICTURE BLEST?

Tune--"Fourteenth of October. "

The title of this air shows that it alludes to the famous king
Crispian, the patron of the honourable corporation of shoemakers. --St.
Crispian's day falls on the fourteenth of October old style, as the
old proverb tells:

"On the fourteenth of October
Was ne'er a sutor sober. "

* * * * *


SINCE ROBB'D OF ALL THAT CHARM'D MY VIEWS.

The old name of this air is, "the Blossom o' the Raspberry. " The song
is Dr. Blacklock's.

* * * * *


YOUNG DAMON.

This air is by Oswald.

* * * * *


KIRK WAD LET ME BE.

Tradition in the western parts of Scotland tells that this old song,
of which there are still three stanzas extant, once saved a
covenanting clergyman out of a scrape. It was a little prior to the
revolution, a period when being a Scots covenanter was being a felon,
that one of their clergy, who was at that very time hunted by the
merciless soldiery, fell in, by accident, with a party of the
military. The soldiers were not exactly acquainted with the person of
the reverend gentleman of whom they were in search; but from
suspicious circumstances, they fancied that they had got one of that
cloth and opprobrious persuasion among them in the person of this
stranger. "Mass John" to extricate himself, assumed a freedom of
manners, very unlike the gloomy strictness of his sect; and among
other convivial exhibitions, sung (and some traditions say, composed
on the spur of the occasion) "Kirk wad let me be," with such effect,
that the soldiers swore he was a d----d honest fellow, and that it
was impossible _he_ could belong to those hellish conventicles; and so
gave him his liberty.

The first stanza of this song, a little altered, is a favourite kind
of dramatic interlude acted at country weddings, in the south-west
parts of the kingdom. A young fellow is dressed up like an old beggar;
a peruke, commonly made of carded tow, represents hoary locks; an old
bonnet; a ragged plaid, or surtout, bound with a straw rope for a
girdle; a pair of old shoes, with straw ropes twisted round his
ankles, as is done by shepherds in snowy weather: his face they
disguise as like wretched old age as they can: in this plight he is
brought into the wedding-house, frequently to the astonishment of
strangers, who are not in the secret, and begins to sing--

"O, I am a silly auld man,
My name it is auld Glenae," &c.

He is asked to drink, and by and bye to dance, which after some
uncouth excuses he is prevailed on to do, the fiddler playing the
tune, which here is commonly called "Auld Glenae;" in short he is all
the time so plied with liquor that he is understood to get
intoxicated, and with all the ridiculous gesticulations of an old
drunken beggar, he dances and staggers until he falls on the floor;
yet still in all his riot, nay, in his rolling and tumbling on the
floor, with some or other drunken motion of his body, he beats time to
the music, till at last he is supposed to be carried out dead drunk.

* * * * *


MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.

I composed these verses out of compliment to a Mrs. M'Lachlan, whose
husband is an officer in the East Indies.

* * * * *


BLYTHE WAS SHE.

I composed these verses while I stayed at Ochtertyre with Sir William
Murray. --The lady, who was also at Ochtertyre at the same time, was
the well-known toast, Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lentrose; she was
called, and very justly, "The Flower of Strathmore. "

* * * * *


JOHNNIE FAA, OR THE GYPSIE LADDIE.

The people in Ayrshire begin this song--

"The gypsies cam to my Lord Cassilis' yett. "--

They have a great many more stanzas in this song than I ever yet saw
in any printed copy. --The castle is still remaining at Maybole, where
his lordship shut up his wayward spouse, and kept her for life.

* * * * *


TO DAUNTON ME.

The two following old stanzas to this tune have some merit:

"To daunton me, to daunton me,
O ken ye what it is that'll daunton me? --
There's eighty-eight and eighty-nine,
And a' that I hae borne sinsyne,
There's cess and press and Presbytrie,
I think it will do meikle for to daunton me.

But to wanton me, to wanton me,
O ken ye what it is that wad wanton me--
To see gude corn upon the rigs,
And banishment amang the Whigs,
And right restor'd where right sud be,
I think it would do meikle for to wanton me. "

* * * * *


THE BONNIE LASS MADE THE BED TO ME.

"The Bonnie Lass made the Bed to me," was composed on an amour of
Charles II. when skulking in the North, about Aberdeen, in the time of
the usurpation. He formed _une petite affaire_ with a daughter of the
house of Portletham, who was the "lass that made the bed to him:"--two
verses of it are,

"I kiss'd her lips sae rosy red,
While the tear stood blinkin in her e'e;
I said, My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye ay shall make the bed to me.

She took her mither's holland sheets,
And made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me. "

* * * * *


ABSENCE.

A song in the manner of Shenstone.

This song and air are both by Dr. Blacklock.

* * * * *


I HAD A HORSE AND I HAD NAE MAIR.

This story is founded on fact. A John Hunter, ancestor to a very
respectable farming family, who live in a place in the parish, I
think, of Galston, called Bar-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 feed
himself to a _Highland_ Laird," for that is the expression of all the
oral editions of the song I ever heard. --The present Mr. Hunter, who
told me the anecdote, is the great-grandchild of our hero.

* * * * *


UP AND WARN A' WILLIE.

This edition of the song I got from Tom Niel, of facetious fame, in
Edinburgh. The expression "Up and warn a' Willie," alludes to the
Crantara, or warning of a Highland clan to arms. Not understanding
this, the Lowlanders in the west and south say, "Up and _waur_ them
a'," &c.

* * * * *


A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.

This song I composed on Miss Jenny Cruikshank, only child of my worthy
friend Mr. William Cruikshank, of the High-School, Edinburgh. This air
is by a David Sillar, quondam merchant, and now schoolmaster in
Irvine. He is the _Davie_ to whom I address my printed poetical
epistle in the measure of the Cherry and the Slae.

* * * * *


AULD ROB MORRIS.

It is remark-worthy that the song of "Holy and Fairly," in all the old
editions of it, is called "The Drunken Wife o' Galloway," which
localizes it to that country.

* * * * *


RATTLIN, ROARIN WILLIE.

The last stanza of this song is mine; it was composed out of
compliment to one of the worthiest fellows in the world, William
Dunbar, Esq. , writer to the signet, Edinburgh, and Colonel of the
Crochallan Corps, a club of wits who took that title at the time of
raising the fencible regiments.

* * * * *


WHERE BRAVING ANGRY WINTER STORMS.

This song I composed on one of the most accomplished of women, Miss
Peggy Chalmers, that was, now Mrs. Lewis Hay, of Forbes and Co. 's
bank, Edinburgh.

* * * * *


TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.

This song I composed about the age of seventeen.

* * * * *


NANCY'S GHOST.

This song is by Dr. Blacklock.

* * * * *


TUNE YOUR FIDDLES, ETC.

This song was composed by the Rev. John Skinner, nonjuror clergyman at
Linshart, near Peterhead. He is likewise author of "Tullochgorum,"
"Ewie wi' the crooked Horn," "John o' Badenyond," &c. , and what is of
still more consequence, he is one of the worthiest of mankind. He is
the author of an ecclesiastical history of Scotland. The air is by Mr.
Marshall, butler to the Duke of Gordon; the first composer of
strathspeys of the age. I have been told by somebody, who had it of
Marshall himself, that he took the idea of his three most celebrated
pieces, "The Marquis of Huntley's Reel," his "Farewell," and "Miss
Admiral Gordon's Reel," from the old air, "The German Lairdie. "

* * * * *


GILL MORICE.

This plaintive ballad ought to have been called Child Maurice, and not
Gil Maurice. In its present dress, it has gained immortal honour from
Mr. Home's taking from it the ground-work of his fine tragedy of
Douglas. But I am of opinion that the present ballad is a modern
composition; perhaps not much above the age of the middle of the last
century; at least I should be glad to see or hear of a copy of the
present words prior to 1650. That it was taken from an old ballad,
called "Child Maurice," now lost, I am inclined to believe; but the
present one may be classed with "Hardyknute," "Kenneth," "Duncan, the
Laird of Woodhouselie," "Lord Livingston," "Binnorie," "The Death of
Monteith," and many other modern productions, which have been
swallowed by many readers as ancient fragments of old poems. This
beautiful plaintive tune was composed by Mr. M'Gibbon, the selector of
a collection of Scots tunes. R. B.

In addition to the observations on Gil Morice, I add, that of the songs
which Captain Riddel mentions, "Kenneth" and "Duncan" are juvenile
compositions of Mr. M'Kenzie, "The Man of Feeling. "--M'Kenzie's father
showed them in MS. to Dr. Blacklock, as the productions of his son, from
which the Doctor rightly prognosticated that the young poet would make,
in his more advanced years, a respectable figure in the world of
letters.

This I had from Blacklock.

* * * * *


TIBBIE DUNBAR.

This tune is said to be the composition of John M'Gill, fiddler, in
Girvan. He called it after his own name.

* * * * *


WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN.

This song was the work of a very worthy facetious old fellow, John
Lapraik, late of Dalfram, near Muirkirk; which little property he was
obliged to sell in consequence of some connexion as security for some
persons concerned in that villanous bubble THE AYR BANK. He
has often told me that he composed this song one day when his wife had
been fretting o'er their misfortunes.

* * * * *


MY HARRY WAS A GALLANT GAY.

Tune--"Highlander's Lament. "

The oldest title I ever heard to this air, was, "The Highland Watch's
Farewell to Ireland. " The chorus I picked up from an old woman in
Dumblane; the rest of the song is mine.

* * * * *


THE HIGHLAND CHARACTER.

This tune was the composition of Gen. Reid, and called by him "The
Highland, or 42d Regiment's March. " The words are by Sir Harry
Erskine.

* * * * *


LEADER-HAUGHS AND YARROW.

There is in several collections, the old song of "Leader-Haughs and
Yarrow. " It seems to have been the work of one of our itinerant
minstrels, as he calls himself, at the conclusion of his song,
"Minstrel Burn. "

* * * * *


THE TAILOR FELL THRO' THE BED, THIMBLE AN' A'.

This air is the march of the corporation of tailors. The second and
fourth stanzas are mine.

* * * * *


BEWARE O' BONNIE ANN.

I composed this song out of compliment to Miss Ann Masterton, the
daughter of my friend Allan Masterton, the author of the air of
Strathallan's Lament, and two or three others in this work.

* * * * *


THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOUSE.

The first half stanza is old, the rest is Ramsay's. The old words
are--

"This is no mine ain house,
My ain house, my ain house;
This is no mine ain house,
I ken by the biggin o't.

Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
My door-cheeks, my door-cheeks;
Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
And pancakes the riggin o't.