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Without the help of art,

Like flowers which grace the wild,
She did her sweets impart,

Whene'er she spoke or smil❜d.
Her looks they were so mild,
Free from affected pride,
She me to love beguil'd;

I wish'd her for my bride.

O had I all that wealth,

HOPETON's high mountains* fill,
Insur'd lang life and health,

And pleasure at my will;

I'd promise and fulfil,

That none but bonny she,

The lass of Patie's mill

Shou'd share the same wi' me.


Thirty-three miles south-west of Edinburgh, where the Eart of Hopeton's mines of gold and lead are.


THERE is a stanza of this excellent song for local humour, omitted in this set, where I have placed the asterisms.*

Hersell pe highland shentleman,
Pe auld as Pothwell Prig, man;
And mony alterations seen

Amang te lawland whig, man.

Fal, &c.

First when her to the lawlands came,
Nainsell was driving cows, man;

There was nae laws about him's nerse,
About the preeks or trews, man.

Nainsell did wear the philabeg,

The plaid prick't on her shouder;
The guid claymore hung pe her pelt,
De pistol sharg'd wi' pouder.

* Burns had placed the asterisms between the 9th and 10th

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But for whereas these cursed preeks,
Wherewith mans nerse be locket,
O hon! that e'er she saw the day!
For a' her houghs be prokit.

Every ting in de highlands now
Pe turn'd to alteration;

The sodger dwall at our door-sheek,
And tat's te great vexation.

Scotland be turn't a Ningland now,
An' laws pring on de cager;
Nainsell wad durk him for his deeds,
But oh! she fear te sodger.

Anither law came after dat,

Me never saw de like, man;

They mak a lang road on de crund,
And ca' him Turnimspike, man.

An' wow! she pe a ponny road,

Like Louden corn-rigs, man;
Where twa carts may gang on her,
An' no preak ithers legs, man.

They sharge a penny for ilka horse,
(In troth, they'll no pe sheaper);
For nought put gaen upo' the crund,
And they gie me a paper.


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They tak the horse then py te head,
And tere tey mak her stan, man ;
Me tell tem, me hae seen te day,
Tey had na sic comman', man.


Nae doubt, Nainsell maun traw his purse,
pay tem what him likes, man;
I'll see a shudgment on his toor;
Tat filthy Turnimspike, man.

But I'll awa to the Highland hills,
Where te'il a ane dare turn her,
And no come near your Turnimspike,
Unless it pe to purn her.

Fal, &c.


As this was a favorite theme with our later Scotish muses, there are several airs and songs of that name. That which I take to be the oldest, is to be found in the Musical Museum, beginning, I hae been at Crookie-den.*-One reason for my thinking

* I hae been at Crookie-den,*

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ;
Viewing Willie and his men,

My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.

* A vulgar cant name for Hell.


so is, that Oswald has it in his collection by the name of The auld Highland Laddie.—It is also known by the name of Jinglan Johnie, which is a well-known song of four or five stanzas, and seems to be an earlier song than Jacobite times. As a proof of this, it is little known to the peasantry by the name of Highland Laddie; while every body knows Jinglan Johnie. The song begins,

Jinglan John, the meickle man,

He met wi' a lass was blythe and bonie.

Another Highland Laddie is also in the Museum, vol. v. which I take to be Ramsay's original, as he has borrowed the chorus "O my bonie Highland lad,

There our faes that burnt and slew,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie;
There, at last, they gat their due,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.
Satan sits in his black neuk,

My bonie laddie, Highland laddie;
Breaking sticks to roast the Duke,
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie:

The bluidy monster gae a yell,

My bonie laddie, Highland laddie;
And loud the laugh gaed round a' hell!
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie.

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