MY WIFE SHE DANG ME. On peace and rest my mind was bent, And, fool I was, I married; But never an honest man's intent Sae cursedly miscarried! For aye my wife she dang me, Gude sooth, she'll soon o'ergang ye! Nae fairer face looks to the sun, Nae foot's mair gladsome in the dance,- And aye my wife she dang me, Gude faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye! There is some comfort still in hope,- Gude faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye! VOL. III. D I found two of these verses in the Musical Museum; the chorus is old, the rest of the song is modern. An old song of the same name was once well known, and some fragments are not yet forgotten; though I know of no relics of ancient song which merit oblivion more. MY LOVE SHE LIVES IN LAUDERDALE. My love she lives in Lauderdale, I played at her bower window, There's no a lad in Lauderdale, Nor yet in a' the land, That witched the maidens' feet like me, Or drew sic a bow-hand: My gude bow-hand has lost its craft, And tint the charm for ever; And I maun rin frae Lauderdale, When first I came to Lauderdale, "Twas at the Lammas-term, I drew a bow-a nobler bow There is an old popular ditty, exceedingly lively and very coarse, bearing the same name with this song, and containing many lines in common, which may be known to some of my less fastidious readers. In sobering down the levities of the old lyric, I have sought to preserve some of its freedom and animation; and though I have changed the meaning, I hope I have preserved all that any one would think worthy of preservation. I shall not say where I found the original song-it was in very wild company. THE BRAES OF BRANKSOME. As I came in by Teviot-side, A And by the braes of Branksome, Her hair a shining wavy brown; In straightness nane surpass'd her;" Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek, Ae little coat, and bodice white, By which a burnie trotted; A thousand beauties of desert Before had scarce alarm'd me, Till this dear artless struck my heart, Who smil'd, and said, Without a priest, I had nae heart to do her harm, Of her's pled, I shou'd grant her. There plighting her my faith and trouth, The popular song of "The Braes of Branksome" first appeared under the name of "The Generous Gentleman” in Allan Ramsay's collection, accompanied by instructions to sing it to the tune of "The Bonnie Lass of Branksome." The name of the tune seems part of an old song, of which I regret the loss, since I imagine it commemorated the beauty of one of the ladies of Branksome, whose reputation for loveliness is of old standing. How much or how little of the ancient strain found its way into this modern composition it is now impossible to know, but the song wants no old associations to render it attractive: it is a general favourite. The freedom |