II. Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, "Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, Since my last hope and last comfort is gone! Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair. ["Clarinda inspired these verses, and they are worthy of her merits, personal and mental. To his parting with that lady the Bard often recurred; in truth, he left Edinburgh with great reluctance; there he had pleased society, and there only could he hope for 'pension, post, or place.' When he quitted it he knew he was going to the stilts of the plough, and experience told him how little he could hope from niggardly economy and sharp bargaining. He was one of nature's gentlemen, and unfit for the details of the market, the couping of horses, and the keen and eager contest carried on between seller and buyer. An old peasant once said of him that he was owre kindhearted to be prosperous,' and added, 'he was ane of them that carry their corn to a falling market, and sell their hens on a rainy day! To this impediment in the way to wealth, he repeatedly alludes in his letters-no man ever knew himself better-all fell out in his own history as he feared it would."-CUNNINGHAM.] My Lady's Gown, there's Gairs upon't. Tune-Gregg's Pipes. CHORUS. My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't, I. My lord a-hunting he is gane, II. My lady's white, my lady's red, III. Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss, IV. Sae sweetly move her genty limbs, V. My lady's dink, my lady 's drest, My lady's gown, there 's gairs upon't, My lord thinks meikle mair upon't. The air [The idea of this song is believed to be old, and some of the words also; most of it, however, is the workmanship of Burns. to which it was written was the composition of James Gregg, a musician belonging to Ayr-shire, whose memory still lives in the west as an improver of the telescope, a mechanist, and a painter. He is still more pleasantly remembered by this tune, which is often called for when the dancers are on the floor "And all goes merry as a marriage bell."] Amang the Trees where humming Bees. Tune-The King of France, he rode a Race. * I. AMANG the trees, where humming bees At buds and flowers were hinging, O, Auld Caledon drew out her drone, And to her pipe was singing, O; 'Twas pibroch, sang, strathspey, or reels, She dirl❜d them aff fu' clearly, O, When there cam a yell o' foreign squeels, That dang her tapsalteerie, O. II. Their capon craws and queer ha ha's, They made our lugs grow eerie, O; The hungry bike did scrape and pike, "Till we were wae and weary, O; But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd A prisoner aughteen year awa, He fir'd a fiddler in the north That dang them tapsalteerie, O. ["Ritson says, when he was in Italy he was much interested by the chants sung by friars or priests; they bore some resemblance to the elder *The following is the commencement of this old song: The King o' France he rade a race, Scottish melodies. This resemblance has been noticed by some of our northern authorities, who surmise that Caledonia supplied Italy with many of her most exquisite melodies. This seems as well-founded as the legend that David Rizzio brought the best Scottish airs from Italy -a story that offends our Welch musicians, who declare that David's surname was Rice, not Rizzio, and that the airs with which he charmed the Queen of Scotland were genuine Welch ! "It has been thought that Burns had all that in his mind when he wrote this song: it seems quite as likely that he alludes to the influx of Italian music by operas and oratorios; and that the fiddler of the north, who was animated by the spirit of the royal poet and musician, was honest Neil Gow, whose vigorous genius maintained the glory of our national music in spite of 'Their capon craws, and queer ha ha's!'"' CUNNINGHAM.] The gowden Locks of Anna. Tune-Banks of Banna. I. YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine, II. Ye monarchs tak' the east and west, III. Awa', thou flaunting god o' day! POSTSCRIPT. IV. The Kirk and State may join, and tell To do such things I maunna : The Kirk and State may gae to h—ll, [A Dumfries maiden, with a light foot and a merry eye, was the heroine of this clever song. Burns thought so well of it himself that he recommended it as one of his best to Thomson; but the latter, aware, perhaps, of the free character of her of the gowden locks, was unwilto the charms of ladies of high degree and unling to give her a place among lyrics dedicated blemished reputation, and therefore excluded it, though pressed to publish it by the Poet. Imritated, perhaps, at Thomson's refusal, he wrote the additional Stanza, by way of Postscript, in defiance of his colder blooded critic. To those who are curious in such matters, it may be told that Anna's locks were sunny rather than golden, and that she was a handmaid at an inn, and accounted beautiful by the customers when wine made them tolerant in matters of taste.] wat pe what my Minnie did. O WAT ye what my minnie did, My minnie did, my minnie did, O wat ye what my minnie did, On Tysday 'teen to me, jo? She laid me in a saft bed, A saft bed, a saft bed, II. An' wat ye what the parson did, The parson did, the parson did, An' wat ye what the parson did, A' for a penny fee, jo? A mickle man, a strang man, He loos'd on me a lang man, That might hae worried me, jo. III. An' I was but a young thing, I wat the kirk was in the wyte, * Without. I'll count my health my greatest wealth, Sae long as I'll enjoy it : I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, IV. But far off fowls hae feathers fair, Tho' they seem fair, still have a care, But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, My dear, I'll come and see thee; For the man that lo'es his mistress weel [This was a song of the Poet's youthful days; he trimmed it up a little for the Museum, and adapted it to the beautiful Strathspey tune called "Laggan Burn." There is more of the man in his early verses, and more sentiment in his later ones. In the manuscript of the music, there is the following note to Johnson in the hand-writing of Clarke: "This song must have a verse more or a verse less. The music intended for it was so miserably bad that I rejected it; but luckily there was a tune called Laggan Burn' on the opposite side, which will answer very well by adding a verse, or curtailing one. I know that Burns will rather do the former than the latter.— [P.S. When I wrote the above, I did not observe that there was another verse on the opposite page."] The Farewell. Tune-It was a' for our rightfu' King. I. It was a' for our rightfu' king, We e'er saw Irish land, my dear, II. Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain; My love and native land farewell, For I maun cross the main, my dear, III. He turned him right, and round about, IV. The sodger frae the wars returns, 432 THE SONGS AND BALLADS OF BURNS. V. When day is gane, and night is come, And a' folk bound to sleep; I think on him that's far awa', The lee-lang night, and weep, my dear, The lee-lang night, and weep.* [Hogg, in his notes to the Jacobite Reliques, says this song was written by Captain Ogilvie, who was killed on the banks of the Rhine, in the year 1695. Sir Walter Scott, in the last edition of his works, refers to his beautiful song, 66 A weary lot is thine," in the third canto of Rokeby, and says "The last verse is taken from the fragment of an old Scottish ballad, of which I only recollected two verses when the first edition of Rokeby was published. Mr. Thomas Sheridan kindly pointed out to me an entire copy of this beautiful song, which seems to express the fortunes of some follower of the Stuart family." The song, as copied by Scott, is nearly word for word with that of Burns in the fifth volume of the Musical Museum: it is, nevertheless, probable that the Poet rather beautified or amended some ancient strain which he had discovered than wrote it wholly from his own heart and fancy.-CUNNINGHAM.] O steer her up. Tune-O steer her up, and haud her gaun. I. O STEER her up and haud her gaun- An' gin she winna tak' a man, *We here subjoin part of the old song which was the prototype of the above. The cold winter it is past and gone, And I am one the king's life-guards, And I must go fight for my king, my dear; Now since to the wars you must go, I would not for ten thousand worlds I will do more for my true love I'll cut my hair and roll me bare, And mourn till the day I die, my dear, So farewell mother and father dear, My kith and kin also, My sweet and bonny Mally Stewart, You're the cause of all my wo, my dear, First shore her wi' a kindly kiss, And ca' anither gill, jo, And gin she tak' the thing amiss, E'en let her flyte her fill, jo. II. O steer her up, and be na blate, [Allan Ramsay found a wild old song of this name and measure, and, adopting the first four lines, penned a drinking ditty, which may be found in the Tea Table Miscellany. The second verse will be sample sufficient: "See that shining glass of claret, How invitingly it looks; Take it aff, and let's hae mair o't Pox on fighting, trade, and books: Burns took the first four lines of the old strain, and eked them out in his own way.] ape my Wife she dang me. Tune-My wife she dang me.t I. O AYE my wife she dang me, An' aft my wife did bang me, She took the slippers off her feet, For seven lang years and mair, my dear, And it was aye the o'ercome o' her tale, He has given the bridle reins a shake, When Burns wrote the above humorous lyric, he had probably in his recollection the old words to which the air was originally united. I was twenty years a bachelor, But I never could contented be, Until I got a wife. But I hadna lang married been Till she began to bang me, And ne'er dang out my very een, And sware she would gae hang me. Ae day I at a wedding was, And dancing on the green; "The bonnie lass o' Livingstone, An' a dimplit chin, an' a dimplit chin; wha is she that lo'es me. Tune-Morag. I. O WHA is she that lo'es me, As dews o' simmer weeping, CHORUS. O that's the lassie o' my heart, II. If thou shalt meet a lassie, In grace and beauty charming, That e'en thy chosen lassie, Erewhile thy breast sae warming, Had ne'er sic powers alarming; O that's, &c. III. If thou hadst heard her talking, But her by thee is slighted, IV. If thou hast met this fair one; But her, thou hast deserted, But I soon tipped her the wink, And said, nae mair ye'se bang me, I'll drink nae mair o' your sour drink For fear at last ye hang me. ib. [VAR. The Robin came to the Wren's nest.-Poet's MS. Of earth and air, of earth and air. [VAR. In a copy of this song in Burns's handwriting, the first line reads thus: O wat ye wha that lo'es me. which agrees with the version in Thomson's collection.] |