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Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride,

But saving a crown he had naething else beside; To make that crown a pound, my Jamie gade to sea,

And the crown and the pound were baith for me.

He hadna been gane a year and a day, When my father brak his arm, and my Jamie at the sea, [away; My mither she fell sick, and our cow was stown And auld Robin Gray came a courting to me.

My father coudna work, and my mither coudna spin, [win; I toil'd day and night, but their bread I coudna Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e, Said, "Jenny, for their sakes, O marry me."

My heart it said nae, for I look'd for Jamie back, [a wrack; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was The ship it was a wrack, why didna Jenny die, And why do I live to say, wae's me?

* [Pinkerton, after observing that none of the "Scotch amatory ballads are written by ladies;" and that the "profligacy of manners which always reigns before women can so utterly forget all sense of decency and propriety as to commence authors, is yet almost unknown in Scotland," adds, in a note, that "there is indeed, of very late years, one in significant exception to this rule; 'Auld Robin Gray, having got his silly psalm set to soporific music, is, to the credit of our taste, popular for the day. But after lulling some good-natured audiences asleep, he will soon fall asleep himself." Ritson, with a becoming boldness and indignation at the author of these ungracious and ungallant remarks, steps forward with his accustomed bantom-cock courage, and thus strikes at the hard forehead of Pinkerton. "Alas! this

I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When, sitting sae mournfully at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I coudna think [thee." 'Till he said, "I'm come back for to marry

it he,

O sair did we greet, and mickle did we say,
We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away;
I 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 I carena to spin,
I darena think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gudewife to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.] *

seem

Donald and Flora.

THIS is one of those fine Gaelic tunes, preserved from time immemorial in the Hebrides; they to be the ground-work of many of our finest Scots pastoral storal tunes. The words of this song were written to commemorate the unfortunate expedition of General Burgoyne in America, in 1777.

[This fine ballad is the composition of Hector Macneil, Esq., author of the celebrated poem, "Will and Jean," and other popular works. Hector Macneil was looked up to as Scotland's hope in song when Burns died; his poems flew over the north like wildfire, and half a dozen editions were bought up in a year. The Donald of the song was Captain Stewart, who fell at the battle of Saratoga, and Flora was a young lady of Athole, to whom he was betrothed.]

WHEN merry hearts were gay,
Careless of aught but play,
Poor Flora slipt away,
Sad'ning to Mora;†

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Loose flow'd her coal black hair, Quick heav'd her bosom bare, As thus to the troubled air

She vented her sorrow :

"Loud howls the northern blast, Bleak is the dreary waste; Haste thee, O! Donald, haste,

Haste to thy Flora!
Twice twelve long months are o'er,
Since, on a foreign shore,
You promis'd to fight no more,
But meet me in Mora.

"Where now is Donald dear?"
Maids cry with taunting sneer;
Say is he still sincere
To his lov'd Flora?"
Parents upbraid my moan,
Each heart is turn'd to stone;
Ah! Flora, thou'rt now alone,
Friendless in Mora!

"Come then, O come away!
Donald, no longer stay ;-
Where can my rover stray

From his lov'd Flora?
Ah! sure he ne'er can be
False to his vows and me-
O, Heaven! is not yonder he
Bounding o'er Mora?"

"Never, ah! wretched fair!
(Sigh'd the sad messenger,)
Never shall Donald mair

Meet his lov'd Flora!
Cold, cold beyond the main,
Donald, thy love, lies slain :
He sent me to sooth thy pain,
Weeping in Mora.

"Well fought our gallant men, Headed by brave Burgoyne, Our heroes were thrice led on

To British glory.
But ah! tho' our foes did flee,
Sad was the loss to thee,
While every fresh victory
Drown'd us in sorrow.

"Here, take this trusty blade,
(Donald expiring said,)
Give it to yon dear maid,
Weeping in Mora.

Tell her, oh Allan! tell,
Donald thus bravely fell,
And that in his last farewell

He thought on his Flora."

Mute stood the trembling fair,
Speechless with wild despair,
Then, striking her bosom bare,

Sigh'd out, Poor Flora!'
Oh! Donald! oh, well a day!
Was all the fond heart could say;
At length the sound died away
Feebly, in Mora.]

The Captive Ribband.

THIS air is called "Robie donna Gorach."

[The song of "The Captive Ribband" hus been generally imputed to Burns. Here are the words the reader may judge for himself they are adapted to a Gaelic air, called Ro donna Gorach, or Daft Robin. This air evidently a slight alteration of the fine old tr ple tune, entitled Earl Douglas's Lament.

DEAR Myra, the captive Ribband's mine,
'Twas all my faithful love could gain;
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?

Go, bid the hero who has run

Thro' fields of death to gather fame,
Go, bid him lay his laurels down,
And all his well-earn'd praise disclaim.

The ribband shall its freedom lose,
Lose all the bliss it had with you,
And share the fate I would impose
On thee, wert thou my captive too.

It shall upon my bosom live,
Or clasp me in a close embrace;
And at its fortune if you grieve,
Retrieve its doom and take its place.]

The Bridal o't.

THIS song is the work of a Mr. Alexander Ross, late schoolmaster at Lochlee; and auther of a beautiful Scots poem, called "The Fortunate Shepherdess."

* ["The reader will be pleased to find," says Cromek, "from the following communication to the editor, by Mrs. Murray, of Bath (authoress of 'Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch,'), that Mr. Ross was one of the very few writers that practised what they taught.

""I knew a good deal of Mr. Ross, author of 'The Fortunate Shepherdess, but it was many years ago:-I still remember him with respect, as a man of most amiable character. His genius and talents speak for themselves in the above-mentioned beautiful little poem, and one cannot help regretting that such abilities were only born to blush unseen, and waste their sweetness on the desert air;' for in

truth his humble abode was little better than a desert, thouch not inhabited by savages; nothing on earth being less sav than a mere uncultivated Highlander. I speak from the en perience of many years of the early part of my life, which had the happiness of spending in the North Highlands Scotland, the country of Honest men and bonny lasses"

"Mr. Ross was also author of two excellent songs, ca 'What ails the Lasses at me?' and 'The Rock and the wor pickle tow.' They are printed in the Museum immediate after 'The Bridal o't.' He was born about the year 1 His father was a farmer in the parish of Kincardine O'Ne Aberdeen-shire. His first settleinent was at Birs, as parochia schoolmaster, about the year 1733. He removed to Lochlee, Forfar-shire, where he died in May, 1783, after residing fifty years in the centre of the Grampians, almost secluded from the converse of men and books. Mr. Ross's grandson, the Rev. Alexander Thomson, gives the following account of him in a letter to Mr. Campbell, author of 'An Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland, dated Lintrethen, 14th June, 1798.- He (Ross) was a plain man, had the character of being a good schoolmaster, was very religious, which appeared by his behaviour as much as by his profession. He

[THEY say that Jockey'll speed weel o't, They say that Jockey'll speed weel o't,

For he grows brawer ilka day-
I hope we'll hae a bridal o't:
For yesternight, nae farder gane,
The backhouse at the side wa' o't,
He there wi' Meg was mirden seen-
I hope we'll hae a bridal o't.

An we had but a bridal o't,
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 merry times,

And young folks like the coming o't, And scribblers they bang up their rhymes, And pipers they the bumming o't.

The lasses like a bridal o't,

The lasses like a bridal o't,
Their braws maun be in rank and file,
Altho' that they should guide ill o't:
The boddom o' the kist is then
Turn'd up unto the inmost o't,
The end that held the kecks 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 comes is fidgin fain,
And ilka day's a clashing o't:
He'll sell 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 the fiddlers o't,
Can smell a bridal unco' far,
And like to be the middlers o't;
Fan* thick and threefold they convene,
Ilk ane envies the tither o't,
And wishes nane but him alane
May ever see anither o't.

Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
For dancing they gae to the green,
And aiblins to the beating o't:
He dances best that dances fast,
And loups at ilka reesing o't,
And claps his hands frae hough to hough,
And furls about the feezings o't.]

Todlen Kame.

THIS is perhaps the first bottle song that ever was composed. The author's name is unknown.

[WHEN I've a saxpence under my thumb,
Then I'll get credit in ilka town:
But ay when I'm poor they bid me gae by;
O! poverty parts good company.
Todlen hame, todlen hame,

Coudna my love come todlen hame?

Fair fa' the goodwife, and send her good sale, She gi'es us white bannocks to drink her ale, Syne if her tippeny chance to be sma', We'll 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-feet; [dry:
And ay when we waken'd, we drank them
What think ye of my wee kimmer and I?
Todlen but, 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 wi' a flee, That 'tis a blyth sight to the bairns and me, When todlen hame, todlen hame, [hame.] When round as a neep ye come todlen

The Shepherd's Preference.

THIS song is Dr. Blacklock's. -I don't know how it came by the name, but the oldest appellation of the air was, "Whistle and I'll come to you my lad."

It has little affinity to the tune commonly known by that name.

[IN May, when the daisies appear on thegreen, And flow'rs in the field and the forest are [up sprung, Where lilies bloom'd bonnie, and hawthorns A pensive young shepherd oft whistled and sung. [flow'rs, But neither the shades nor the sweets of the Nor the blackbirds that warbled in blossoming bowers;

seen;

was an excellent Latin scholar, and wrote with considerable accuracy, till the days of old age and infirmity, when he composed a poem, entitled 'The Orphan,' and attempted to publish it at Aberdeen, with some other little performances, which, on account of their inaccuracy, of which the worthy author was not so sensible as he would have formerly been, he was advised by Dr. Beattie, one of his best friends, not to publish." '"]

* Fan, when the dialect of Angus.

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["The songs of Skinner deserve to the full the eulogiums of Burns. Our ancestors tolerated strains of a length that would weary out the patience of their descendants in singing. But then amusements in those days were few, and he who could sing a long song, or recite a long story, was of some account: at present we have so multiplied our enjoyments that he who would sing John of Badenyond, or one of Robin Hood's Ballads, would be looked upon as one who desired to rob us of variety in pleasure." CUNNINGHAM.

WHEN 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 morn in May.
No care had I, nor fear of want,

But rambled up and down,

And for a beau I might have pass'd
In country or in town;

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'.

* [The words of Burns's celebrated Dirge "Man was made to Mourn," were composed to this tune.]

Now in the days of youthful prime,
A mistress I must find,

For love, they say, gives one an air,
And ev'n improves the mind:
On Phillis fair, above the rest,
Kind fortune fix'd my eyes;
Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
And she became my choice:
To Cupid then with hearty pray'r,
I offer'd many a vow;

And danc'd, and sung, and sigh'd, and swore,
As other lovers do:

But, when at last I breath'd my flame,
I found her cold as stone;
I left the jilt, 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 lover's 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:
A strait soon came, my friend I try'd;
He heard, and spurn'd my moan;
I hi'd me home, and pleas'd myself
With John o' Badenyon'.

I thought I should be wiser next,
And would a patriot turn,
Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes,
And cry up Parson Horne.
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 e'er a month or two had past,
I found myself betray'd,
'Twas self and party after all,
For all the stir they made;
At last I saw these factious knaves
Insult the very throne,

I curs'd them a', and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon'.

And now, ye youngsters every where
Who want to make a show,
Take heed in time, nor vainly hope
For happiness below;

What you may fancy pleasure here
Is but an empty name,

For girls and friends, and books, and so,
You'll find them all the same.
Then be advis'd, and warning take

From such a man as me,

I'm neither Pope, nor Cardinal,

Nor one of high degree:

You'll find displeasure everywhere ;

Then do as I have done,

E'en tune your pipe, and please yourself

With John o' Badenyon'.]

A Waukrife Minnie.*

I PICKED up this old song and tune from a country girl in Nithsdale. - I never met with it elsewhere in Scotland :

"WHARE are you gaun, my bonnie lass?
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?"
She answer'd me right saucilie-
An errand for my minnie.

"O whare live ye, my bonnie lass?
O whare live ye, my hinnie?"-
By yon burn-side, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi' my minnie.

But I foor up the glen at e'en,
To see my bonnie lassie;

And lang before the grey morn cam,
She was na hauf sae saucie.

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 mickle hazle rung

She made her a weel pay'd dochter.

"O fare thee weel, my bonnie lass!
O fare thee weel, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay and a bonnie lass,
But thou hast a waukrife minnie."†

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["I have frequently heard this song sung in Nithsdale-and sung too with many variations. I am of opinion, nevertheless, that a large portion of it is the work of Burns himself. That several of the verses have been amended by him I have not the least doubt. It may gratify some to know that he lessened the indelicacy without impairing the wit of the song: his omissions too are on the same side: the concluding verse may be quoted-I have no wish to restore it

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THIS FIRST of SONGS is the master-piece of my old friend SKINNER. He was passing the day, at the town of Cullen, I think it was [he should have said Ellon], in a friend's house, whose name was Montgomery. Mrs. Montgomery observing, en passant, that the beautiful reel of Tullochgorum wanted words, she begged them of Mr. Skinner, who gratified her wishes, and the wishes of every lover of Scottish song, in this most excellent ballad.

These particulars I had from the author's son, Bishop Skinner, at Aberdeen.

I.

COME gie's a sang, Montgomery cry'd,
And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies'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-morum.

Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night in mirth and glee,
And cheerful sing, alang wi' me,

The Reel o' Tullochgorum.

II.

O, Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps up 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 mak' a happy quorum,
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' Tullochgorum.

III.

What needs there be sae great a fraise,
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ?
I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys

For half a hunder score o' em.
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,

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