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While water wimples to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie,
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e’e,
Ye shall be



The song is partly old and partly new; what is old is very old, what is new was written by a gentleman of the name of Pagan. The last verse is very sweet and sincere. To render the song more consistent I have omitted one verse, in which the heroine is made to express her apprehensions of a moonlight walk by the river side, though she had been before on the banks of the same stream, and “rowed sweetly" in her shepherd's plaid. It is a very pleasant pastoral, and was once very popular. Its truth can be felt by all who have led out their flocks to pasture by the green, braes, on the heathy hills, and by the running streams. Burns says, song

is in the true old Scottish taste, yet I do not know that either air or words were ever in print before." It has a border sound; and the line,

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wi' you, my shepherd lad,

is Annandale or Eskdale, and, I believe, good Yarrow.


Come gie's a sang, Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them?
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Let Whig and Tory all agree

To drop their whigmegmorum.
Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night with mirth and glee,
And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me

The reel of Tullochgorum.


Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry,
Blithe and merry we's be a',

And mak’a cheerfu' quorum.
Blithe and merry we's be a',
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',

The reel of Tullochgorum.

There needs na be sae great a phraize,
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ;
I wadna' gie our ain strathspeys

For half a hundred score o 'em. They're douff and dowie at the best, Douff and dowie, douff and dowie, They're douff and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum. They're douff and dowie at the best, Their allegros, and a' the rest, They canna please a Highland taste

Compared wi' Tullochgorum.

Let warldly minds themselves oppress Wi' fear of want, and double cess, And silly sauls themselves distress

Wi' keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum? Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, And canna rise to shake a fit

At the reel of Tullochgorum?

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May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest-hearted


friend, And calm and quiet be his end,

And a' that's good watch o'er him!

May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o'em!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by any vicious blot ;

he never want a groat
That's fond of Tullochgorum.

But for the discontented fool
Who wants to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul

And discontent devour him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
May dool and sorrow be his chance,

And honest souls abhor him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
And a' the ills that come frae France,
Whae'er he be that winna dance

The reel of Tullochgorum!

The Reverend John Skinner wrote this song; and Burns speaks of it with a rapture which I hope was real, for I would rather suppose that his judgment was for once infirm, than imagine him insincere. His words are and they are exceedingly characteristic

Accept in plain dull prose my most sincere thanks for the best poetical compliment I ever received. I assure you, Sir, as a poet, you have conjured up an airy demon of vanity in my fancy which the best abilities in your other capacity will be ill able to lay. I regretand while I live shall regret that when I was north I had not the pleasure of paying a younger brother's dutiful respect to the author of the best Scotchi song ever Scotland saw, " Tullochgorum's my delight.” The world may think slightly of the craft of song-making, if they please; but as Job says, 'Othat mine adversary had written a book! Let them try.”

Tullochgorum is indeed a lively clever song, but I would never have edited this collection had I thought with Burns, that it is the best Scotch song Scotland

I may say with the king in my favourite ballad, I trust I have within


realm Five hundred good as he.

ever saw.

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When I upon thy bosom lean,

And fondly clasp thee a' my ain,,,
I glory in the sacred ties

That made us ane, wha ance were twain.
A mutual flame inspires us baith,

The tender look, the melting kiss :
Evin years shall ne'er destroy our love,

But only gie us change o' bliss.

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