THE LAST TIME I CAME O'ER THE | The Weaver and his Shuttle, O, whit though sung much quicker, is every note the very tune. MUIR. RAMSAY found the first line of this song, which had been preserved as the title of the charming air, and then composed the rest of the verses to suit that line. This has always a finer effect than composing English words, or words with an idea foreign to the spirit of the old title. Where old titles of songs convey any idea at all, it will generally be found to be quite in the spirit of the air.-BURNS. THE last time I came o'er the muir, I left my love behind me: Ye pow'rs! what pain do I endure, Beneath the cooling shade we lay, Gazing and chastely sporting; We kiss'd and promis'd time away, Till night spread her black curtain: I pitied all beneath the skies, Ev'n kings, when she was nigh me; In raptures I beheld her eyes, Which could but ill deny me. Should I be call'd where cannons roar, Where mortal steel may wound me; Or cast upon some foreign shore, Where dangers may surround me; Yet hopes again to see my love, To feast on glowing kisses, In all my soul there's not one place Their waves the Alps shall cover; On Greenland's ice shall roses grow, Before I cease to love her. The next time I gang o'er the muir, Now to conclude,-his gray breeks, That show themsells upo' the knee! I shall hae them prepared, Stained. JOHNNY'S GRAY BREEKS. THOUGH this has certainly every evidence of ging a Scottisn air, yet there is a well-known ne and song in the North of Ireland, called, MAY EVF OR KATE OF ABERDEEN. | Ayrshire.-The following anecdote I had from the present Sir William Cunningham, of Robertland, who had it from the last John, Earl of Loudon.-The then Earl of Loudon, father to Earl John, before mentioned, had Ramsay at Loudon, and one day walking together by the banks of Irvine water, near New-Mills, at a place yet called Patie's Mill, they were struck with the appearance of a beautiful country girl. His lordship observed, that she would be a fine theme for a song.-Allan lagged behind in returning to Loudon Castle, and at dinner produoed this identical song.-BURNS. KATE of Aberdeen, is, I believe, the work of poor Cunningham the player; of whom the following anecdote, though told before, deserves a recital. A fat dignitary of the church coming past Cunningham one Sunday as the poor poet was busy plying a fishing-rod in some stream near Durham, his native country, his reverence reprimanded Cunningham very severely for such an occupation on such a day. The poor poet, with that inoffensive gentleness of manners which was his peculiar characteristic, replied, that he hoped God and his reverence would forgive his seeming profanity of that sacred day, "as he had no dinner to eat, but what lay at the bottom of that pool!" This, Mr. Woods, the player, who knew Cunningham well, and esteemed him much, assured me was true.-BURNS. THE silver moon's enamour'd beam, Steals softly through the night, To beds of state go balmy sleep, ('Tis where you've seldom been), May's vigil while the shepherds keep With Kate of Aberdeen! Upon the green the virgins wait, Strike up the tabor's boldest notes, We'll rouse the nodding grove; The nested birds shall raise their throats, And see the matin lark mistakes, Fond bird! 'tis not the morning breaks, Now lightsome o'er the level mead, For see the rosy May draws nigh, And hark, the happy shepherds cry, THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL. THE lass of Patie's mill, So bonny, blythe, and gay, She stole my heart away. Her arms white, round, and smooth, To press 'em with his hand : Without the help of art, Like flowers which grace the wild, I wish'd her for my bride. O had I all that wealth, HOPETON'S high mountains • fill, I'd promise and fulfil, That none but bonny she, The lass of Patie's mill Shou'd share the same wi' me. THE TURNIMSPIKE. THERE is a stanza of this excellent song for local humour, omitted in this set,—where I have placed the asterisms. HERSELL pe highlanë shentleman, In Sinclair's Statistical Account of Scotland, this song is localized (a verb I must use for want Thirty-three miles south-west of Edinburgh, of another to express my idea) somewhere in the where the Earl of Hopeton's mines are. Burns had placed the asterisms between the 9th North of Scotland, and likewise is claimed by, and 10th verses. The verse is here restored, And many alterations seen Amang te lawland whig, man. Fal, &c, First when her to the tawlands came, Naiosel 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. But for whereas these cursed preeks, 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 but gaen upo' the crund, And they gie me a paper, 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, But I'll awa to the Highland hills, Fal, &c. HIGHLAND LADDIE. As this was a favourite theme with our later Scottish 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 I HAE been at Crookie-den, My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; Viewing Willie and his men, My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. There our faes that burnt and slew, My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; There, at last, they gat their due, My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. Satan sits in his black neuk, My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; One of my reasons 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 bonnie. Another Higland Laddie is also in the Mu seum, vel. v. which I take to be Ramsay's original, as he has borrowed the chorus "O my bonnie Highland lad, &c." It consists of three stanzas, besides the chorus; and has humour in its composition-it is an excellent but somewhat licentious song.-It begins, As I cam o'er Cairney-Mount, And down amang the blooming heather, &c. This air, and the common Highland Laddie, seem only to be different sets. Another Highland Laddie, also in the Museum, vol. v. is the tune of several Jacobite frag ments. One of these old songs to it, only exists, as far as I know, in these four lines Whare hae ye been a' day. Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie? Down the back o' Bell's brae, Courtin Maggie, courtin Maggie. ♦ A cant name for Hell. Another of this name is Dr. Arne's beautiful air, | And how the lass called, the new Highland Laddie. THE BLAITHRIE O'T. THE following is a set of this song, which forgot, May the shame fa' Jockie was the laddie. But now he's got gowd ana 110 was the earliest song I remember to have got by May the shame fa' the gear and the blaithrie q't I heart. When a child, an old woman sung it to me, and I picked it up, every word, at first hearing. Tho' my lassie hae nae scarlets or silks to put on, We envy not the greatest that sits upon the throne; I wad rather hae my lassie, tho' she cam in her smock, Than a princess wi' the gear and the blaithrie o't. Tho' we hae nae horses or menzie at command, And when wearied without rest, we'll find it If we hae ony babies, we'll count them as lent ; but a groat, Than the miser wi' his gear and the blaithrie o't. I'll not meddle wi' th' affairs o' the kirk or the queen; They're nae matters for a sang, let them sink let them swim, On your kirk I'll ne'er encroach, but I'll hold it still remote, Sae tak this for the gear and the blaithrie o't. THE BLAITHRIE O'T. WHEN I think on this warld's pelf, Jenny was the lassie that mucked the byre, The Highlanders' Prayer at Sheriff-Muir. "OLd be thou with us; but, if thou be not with us, be not against us ; but leave it between the red coats and us!" TWEEDSIDE. IN Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, he tells cation were the works of some young gentlemen us that about thirty of the songs in that publiwith the letters D. C., &c.-Old Mr. Tytler, of his acquaintance; which songs are marked of Woodhouselee, the worthy and able defender the songs marked C, in the Tea-table, were the of the beauteous Queen of Scots, told me that composition of a Mr. Crawford, of the house of Achinames, who was afterwards unfortunately drowned coming from France.-As Tytler was I think the anecdote may be depended on. most intimately acquainted with Allan Ramsay, consequence, the beautiful song of Tweedside is to his poetical talents. He was a Robert CrawMr. Crawford's, and indeed does great honour of the Castlemilk family, afterwards married to ford; the Mary he celebrates, was Mary Stuart, a Mr. John Belches. WHAT beauties does Flora disclose! How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed! Both nature and fancy exceed. Not all the gay flowers of the field, Such beauty and pleasure does yield. The warblers are heard in the grove, The linnet, the lark, and the thrush, Of of an old Scottish song, spoken when a young hand Shame fall the gear and the blad'ry o't, is the turn some girl marries an old man, upon the account of hi wealth-Kelly's Scots Proverbs, WHEN Maggy and I was acquaint, The last stanza runs thus :-ED. Saut tears did my passion express, An' the women loo sic a man less. Her heart it was frozen and cauld, Her pride had my ruin decreed; Therefore I will wander abroad, And lay my banes far frae the Tweed. THE BOATIE ROWS. The author of the Boatie Rows, was a Mr. Ewen of Aberdeen. It is a charming display of womanly affection mingling with the concerns and occupations of life. It is nearly equal to There's nae luck about the house. O WEEL may the boatie row, The boatie rows indeed; And weel may the boatie row That wins the bairns bread. I cust my line in Largo bay, There was three to boil, and three to fry The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot of a' O weel may the boatie row, And cleads us a' frae head to feet, The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed; When Jamie vow'd he would be mine, |