huckling-comb

patching

knock with

mistress

sorrow, earnings

shroud

O MERRY HAE I BEEN

O, merry hae I been teethin' a heckle,
An' merry hae I been shapin' a spoon;
O, merry hae I been cloutin' a kettle,

An' kissin' my Katie when a' was done.
O, a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing,
O, a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
An' a' the lang night am as happy's a king.

Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins

O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave:
Bless'd be the hour she cool'd in her linens,

And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave.

Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,

An' come to my arms, an' kiss me again!
Drucken or sober, here's to thee, Katie!

And bless'd be the day I did it again.

Had I the Wyte is, we may hope, also purely imaginative drama; it is certainly vividly imagined and carried through with a delightful mixture of sympathy and humorous detachment.

blame

highroad lane

HAD I THE WYTE?

Had I the wyte, had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte? she bade me!
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side,

And up the loan she shaw'd me;

jovially

lively tune

trouble

Macpherson's Farewell, made famous by Carlyle's appreciation, is a glorified version of the "Dying Words" of a condemned bandit, such as were familiar in broadsides after every notorious execution. Part of the refrain is old. One may imagine The Highland Balou the lullaby of Macpherson's child.

MACPHERSON'S FAREWELL

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,

The wretch's destinie!

Macpherson's time will not be long

On yonder gallows tree.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He played a spring and danced it round,
Below the gallows tree.

Oh, what is death but parting breath?

On mony a bloody plain

I've dared his face, and in his place

I scorn him yet again!

Untie these bands from off my hands,

And bring to me my sword,

And there's no a man in all Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.

I've lived a life of sturt and strife;

I die by treacherie :

It burns my heart I must depart

And not avengèd be.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,

And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,

The wretch that dares not die!

THE HIGHLAND BALOU

Hee balou! my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o' the great Clanronald;
Brawlie kens our wanton chief
Wha got my young Highland thief.

Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie!
An thou live, thou'll steal a naigie:
Travel the country thro' and thro',
And bring hame a Carlisle cow.

Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the border,
Weel, my babie, may thou furder:
Herry the louns o' the laigh countree,
Syne to the Highlands hame to me.

Distinct from either of the foregoing groups are several songs in narrative form, told as a rule from the point of view of an onlooker, but hardly inferior to the others in vitality. In them the personal or dramatic emotion is replaced by a keen sense of the humor of the situation.

Lullaby

Finely knows

Blessings on,
throat
If, little nag

succeed
Harry, rascals,
low

Then