THE AULD WIFE O' LAUDERDALE.

O wad ye come to Lauderdale,

Ye maun come east to Lauderdale;
An' pass your skill on Tammie's ail,
The sleepy auld man o' Lauderdale.

I wauk a' night, an' sleep get nane,
While he is snoring soun' an' leal;
I might as weel lie by a stane,
Or ony rotten auld fir dail:
I've weary nights in Lauderdale,
I sigh an' sab in Lauderdale;
Now ye'll hae medicine, I'se be bail,
To ease our waes in Lauderdale.

O ay, the doctor smiling said,

I think that I cou'd cure your ail;
But ye maun change auld Tammie's food,
To birsled pease, an' butter'd ale:
Birsled pease in Lauderdale,

Butter'd ale in Lauderdale;

Gie Tammie that at ilka meal,

"Twill cheer his auld heart in Lauderdale.

The auld wife now gaed cantie hame,
Sae gleg an' donsie o'er the dale;
And pray'd and wis'd that Tammie's teeth
Would maup the pease in Lauderdale:
Birsled pease in Lauderdale,

Quo' the snod auld wife o' Lauderdale;
I wis' and houp our Tammie's teeth
May crack the pease in Lauderdale.

149

Now a' ye wives baith far and near,
Whenever your men begin to fail;
Ye needna' youk, an' growl, an' ban,

Do like the carline in Lauderdale:
Butter'd ale in Lauderdale,

Birsled pease in Lauderdale;

A peck o' pease will cure your ail,

It cured the auld man's in Lauderdale.

The foregoing spirited and graphic Ballad is noted down from recitation, we never having met with the original in print. The penultimate stanza, for the sake of connection, is original, as the one which stood in its place had escaped the memory of our fair minstrel.

UP WI' THE WIDOW.

WELCOME, my Johnny, beardless an' bonny,
Ye're my conceit, though I'm courted by mony;
Come to the spence, my ain merry ploughman,
Make it your hame, ye'll be baith het an' fu', man:
Baith het an' fu', man, baith het an' fu', man,
Make it your hame, ye'll be baith het an' fu', man.

Gin ye be tentie, ye shall hae plenty,
Year after year, I hae dotted a renty,

Byres fu' o' horse an' kye, barns fu' o' grain, man,
Bukes fu' o' notes, an' a farm o' your ain man;

WHEN I WAS A YOUNG MAN.

At market or fair, man, ye may be there, man,
Buying or selling, wi' plenty to ware, man,
Dress'd like a laird, in the bravest an' warmest,
On a guide beast, you'll ride up wi' the foremost.

Taupie young lassies, keeking in glasses,
Wasting their siller on trinkets an' dresses,
Think wi' yoursel', Johnny tak wha ye may do,
Ye may do war than draw up wi' the widow,
Up wi' the widow, up wi' the widow,

Ye

may do war than draw up wi' the widow.

151

This cleverly descriptive Song of its class, was several years ago, noted down by us, from the singing of a lady. We never have seen it in print, among the numerous Song collections turned over in quest of it, nor ever since or before heard it sung; yet from the perfect manner in which we found it, we do not think it can be an old one, nor is the piece, for rustic humour, and painting, unworthy the pen of the Ettrick Shepherd himself.

WHEN I WAS YOUNG MAN.

WHEN I was a young man, O then, O then,
When I was a young man, O then,

I'd a horse for to ride,

With a sword by my side,

And the world it went rarely with me, then, O then,

O the world it went rarely with me, then.

I married a wife, O then, O then,

I married a wife, O then:

My saddle and my bridle

Turn'd to rocking a cradle,

And the world it went worse with me then, just then,

O the world it went worse with me then.

My wife she fell sick, O then, O then,
My wife she fell sick, O then,

She droop'd, and fell sick,

And a fever follow'd it,

So the world went poorly with me then, O then,
O the world it went poorly with me then.

My wife she did die, O then, just then
My poor wife did die, O then,

I tried for to sigh

As I found I could not cry,

Though the world went so ill with me then, just then, Though the world went so ill with me then.

I buried my wife, O then, O then,

I buried my wife, O then,

I laid her in her grave,

And return'd brisk and brave,

For the world was before me, just then, even then,

The world was now before me, again.

As homeward I hied me, O then, O then,

I chanced for to spy me, just then,

A young blooming lass,

Who was viewing in her glass,

What a beauty I thought her just then, even then,
So my heart follow'd after, just then.

I AM TOO YOUNG.

I married this maiden, O then, O then,
Old griefs were fast fading, just then,
But soon she turn'd a sot,

And lov'd her pipe and pot,

So I wish'd for my old wife, again, again, o I wish'd my old wife back again.

So I went to her grave, O then, O then,
Past follies were now in their wane,

I opened her coffin,

And saw my wife laughing.

153

Now the world went so rarely with me then, O then, As my old wife came home with me again.

However much the fastidious critic may be inclined to snarl upon perusing the above plainly told and probable tale (which is here taken down from recitation), we cannot help thinking that it possesses some little merits in its own way, and also that it is worthy of preservation. The ditty itself is old, whilst the melody is brisk and lively; the original tune, we think, is to be found in Ravenscroft's "Melismata," air 19th, "Country Rounds:"

"As I went by the way, holom, trolom,
There I met by the way, hazom," &c.

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I AM TOO YOUNG.

As I went out on a May morning,
A May morning it happened to be;
Then I was aware of a weel-far't lass,

Coming linkin over the lea to me;