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All day the amorous youths convene,
Joyous they sport and play before her ;
In blissful dreams they still adore her.
Among the crowd Amyntor came,
He look'd, he lov'd, he bow'd to Annie;
His words were few, his wishes many.
Kind shepherd, why should I deceive ye?
Young Damon came with Cupid's art,
His wiles, his smiles, his charms beguiling,
Cease, poor Amyntor, cease bewailing.
On yonder plain the nymphs are many:
And leave to Damon his own Annie.
I have a strong belief that the name of this song should be “ Annan Water;" a fine ballad of that name will be found in this work, with many
marks of an tiquity about it, and possessing the line, "O, my love Annie's very bonnie.” Burns was informed that the honour belonged to Allan Water, in Strathallan ; but what I have said seems nearly decisive of the question. Annan Water is no vulgar stream: it is noticed by Collins in his admirable Ode on the Superstitions of Scotland, in the lays of Sir Walter Scott, and it runs smooth in many a lesser song. The banks, which in many places are very romantic, were in ancient times so thickly clothed with wood, that it was the vaunt of a Halliday, a warlike laird of Corehead, that he could let his deer-dog into the wood at his own door, and it would never run off the land of a Halliday, nor be seen for wood till it came out at the firth of Solwaya fair inheritance. This is one of Crawford's songs. It offers violence to propriety in seeking to unite Amyntor in wedlock with Annie-but after she could fall in love with Damon, she was capable of any foolish thing.
I had a horse, and I had nae mair, ?::}
I gat him frae my daddy ;
heart was sair,
Outwittens of my daddy,
Wha had a bonnie lady.
21 !, I wrote a letter, and thus began;
And I wad blithely be the man
She read the letter and she leugh
cu Ye needna been sae blate, man,
Outwittens of ony body,
And kiss'd his bonnie lady.
Then she pat siller in my purse ;
We drank wine in a cogie ;
And wow, but I was vogie !
Since I came frae my daddy;
When I was wi' his lady.
Then she put me behint a chair,
And happ'd me wi' a plaidie ;
But I was like to swarf wi' fear,
I gaed when I was ready:
To see his bonnie lady.
Burns in his notes says, “ A John Hunter, ancestor to a very respectable farming family who live at Barrmill, in the parish of Galston in Ayrshire, was the luckless hero who · 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 fee'd 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." This note was written in 1795, twenty years after the publication of the song by David Herd. It seems rprising that such a song failed to obtain an earlier place in some of our collections, for it is an original and clever production.
THE YELLOW-HAIR'D LADDIE.
In April, when primroses paint the sweet plain,
There, under the shade of an old sacred thorn,
The shepherd thus sung, Though young Maya be fair,
That Madie in all the gay bloom of her youth,
That mamma's fine daughter with all her great dow'r,