MAGGIE LAUDER.

that Lieutenant Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to Haddington after the

THIS old song, so pregnant with Scottish publication of the song, and sent a challenge to naivieté and energy, is much relished by all Skirvin to meet him at Haddington, and anranks, notwithstanding its broad wit and pal-swer for the unworthy manner in which he had pable allusions.-Its language is a precious mo- noticed him in his song. "Gang awa back," del of imitation: sly, sprightly, and forcibly ex- said the honest farmer," and tell Mr. Smith pressive. Maggie's tongue wags out the nick-that I hae na leisure to come to Haddington; names of Rob the Piper with all the careless but tell him to come here; and I'll tak a look lightsomeness of unrestrained gaiety. o' him; and if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no-I'll do as he did,-Tu rin awa."

WHA wad na be in love
Wi' bonny Maggie Lauder?
A piper met her gaun to Fife,

And speir'd what was't they ca'd her ;-
Right scornfully she answer'd him,
Begone, you hallanshaker!
Jog on your gate, you bladderskate,
My name is Maggie Lauder.

Maggie, quo' he, and by my bags,
I'm fidgin' fain to see thee;
Sit down by me, my bonny bird,
In troth I winna steer thee:
For I'm a piper to my trade,
My name is Rob the Ranter;
The lasses loup as they were daft,
When I blaw up my chanter.

Piper, quo' Meg, hae ye your bags?
Or is your drone in order?
If ye be Rob, I've heard o' you,
Live you upo' the border?

The lasses a', baith far and near,
Have heard o' Rob the Ranter;
I'll shake my foot wi' right gude will,
Gif you'll blaw up your chanter.

Then to his bags he flew wi' speed,
About the drone he twisted;
Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green,
For brawly could she frisk it.
Weel done! quo' he-play up! quo' she;
Weel bobb'd! quo' Rob the Ranter;
'Tis worth my while to play indeed,
When I hae sic a dancer.

Weel hae ye play'd your part, quo' Meg,
Your cheeks are like the crimson;
There's name in Scotland plays sae weel,
Since we lost Habbie Simpson.
I've liv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter;
Gin' ye should come to Enster Fair,
Speir ye for Maggie Lauder.

THE Chevalier, being void of fear,

Did march up Birsle brae, man,
And thro' Tranent, e'er he did stent,
As fast as he could gae, man:
While General Cope did taunt and mock,
Wi' mony a loud huzza, man;
But e'er next morn proclaim'd the cock,
We heard another craw, man.

The brave Lochiel, as I heard tel'

Led Camerons on in clouds, ma
The morning fair, and clear the air,

They loos'd with devilish thuds, man:
Down guns they threw, and swords they drew,
And soon did chace them aff, man;
On Seaton-Crafts they buft their chafts,
And gart them rin like daft, man.

The bluff dragoons swore blood and 'oons,
They'd make the rebels run, man ;
And yet they flee when them they see,

And winna fire a gun, man:

They turn'd their back, the foot they brake,
Such terror seiz'd them a', man;
Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks,
And some for fear did fa', map.

The volunteers prick'd up their ears,

And vow gin they were crouse, man;
But when the bairns saw't turn to earn'st,
They were not worth a louse, man;
Maist feck gade hame; O fy for shame!
They'd better stay'd awa', man,
Than wi' cockade to make parade,
And do nae good at a', man.

Menteith the great, when hersell sh-t,
Un'wares did ding him o'er, man;
Yet wad nae stand to bear a hand,
But aff fou fast did scour, man;
O'er Soutra hill, c'er he stood still,
Before he tasted meat, man:
Troth he may brag of his swift nag,
That bare him aff sae fleet, man.

TRANENT MUIR.

Tune-" Killicrankie."

"TRANENT-MUIR" was composed by a Mr. Skirvin, a very worthy respectable farmer, near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often,

The minister of Longformacus, a volunteer; who,

happening to come the night before the battle, upon Highland gelding, easing nature at Preston, threw him over, and carried his gun as a trophy to Cope's camp.

And Simpson keen, to clear the cen
Of rebels far in wrang, man,
Did never strive wi' pistols five,

But gallop'd with the thrang, man:
He turn'd his back, and in a crack
Was cleanly out of sight, man;
And thought it best; it was nae jest
Wi' Highlanders to fight, man.

'Mangst a' the gang naue bade the bang But twa, and ane was tane, man; For Campbell rade, but Myriet staid,

And sair he paid the kain, man ; Fell skelps he got, was war than shot Frae the sharp-edg'd claymore, man; Frae many a spout came running out His reeking-het red gore, man.

But Gardner brave did still behave
Like to a hero bright, man;
His courage true, like him were few,
That still despised flight, man;
For king and laws, and country's cause,
In honour's bed he lay, man;
His life, but not his courage, fled,

While he had breath to draw, man.

And Major Bowle, that worthy soul,
Was brought down to the ground, man;
His horse being shot, it was his lot

For to get mony a wound, man:
Lieutenant Smith, of Irish birth,

Frae whom he call'd for aid, man, Being full of dread, lap o'er his head,

And wadna be gainsaid, man.

He made sic haste, sae spur'd his beast,
"Twas little there he saw, man;
To Berwick rade, and safely said,

The Scots were rebels a', man;
But let that end, for well 'tis kend

His use and wont to lie, man;
The Teague is naught, he never faught,
When he had room to flee, man.

And Caddell drest, amang the rest,

With gun and good claymore, man,
On gelding grey he rode that way,
With pistols set before, man;
The cause was good, he'd spend his blood,
Before that he would yield, man;
But the night before he left the cor,

Aud never fac'd the field, man.

But gallant Roger, like a soger,

Stood and bravely fought, man;
I'm wae to tell, at last he fell,

But mae down wi' him brought, man:
At point of death, wi' his last breath,
(Some standing round in ring, man),
On's back lying flat, he wav'd his hat,
And cry'd, God save the king, man.

Some Highland rogues, like hungry dogs,
Neglecting to pursue, man,
About they fac'd, and in great haste
Upon the booty flew, man;
And they, as gain, for all their pain,

Are deck'd wi spoils of war, man;
Fow bald can tell how her nainsell
Was ne'er sae pra before, man.

At the thorn-tree, which you may see
Bewest the meadow-mill, man;
There mony slain lay on the plain,

The clans pursuing still, man.
Sic uneo' hacks, and deadly whacks,
I never saw the like, man;
Lost hands and heads cost them their deads,
That fell near Preston-dyke, man.

That afternoon, when a' was done,

I gaed to see the fray, man;
But had I wist what after past,

I'd better staid away, man:
On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands,
They pick'd my pockets bare, man;
But I wish ne'er to drie sic fear,
For a' the sum and mair, man.

Another volunteer Presbyterian minister, who said he would convince the rebels of their error by the dint of his pistols; having, for that purpose, two in his pockets, two in his holsters, and one in his belt.

Mr. Myrie was a student of physic, from Jamaica; he entered as a volunteer in Cope's army, and was miserably mangled by the broadsword.

STREPHON AND LYDIA.

Tune-" The Gordon's had the Guiding o't." THE following account of this song I had from Dr. Blacklock.

i. c. He suffered severely in the cause. James Gardiner, Colonel of a regiment of horse. This gentleman's conduct, however celebrated, does song were perhaps the loveliest couple of their The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the not seem to have proceeded so much from the gene rous ardour of a noble and heroic mind, as from a time. The gentleman was commonly known spirit of religious enthusiasm, and a bigoted reliance by the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was on the Presbyterian doctrine of predestination, which the Gentle Jean, celebrated somewhere in Mr.

rendered it a matter of perfect indifference whether he

axe.

left the field or remained in it. Being deserted by his Hamilton of Bangour's poems.-Having fretroop, he was killed by a Highlander, with a Lochaber quently met at public places, they had formed Colonel Gardiner having, when a gay young man, a reciprocal attachment, which their friends at Paris, made an assignation with a lady, was, as he thought dangerous, as their resources were by pointment, but thoroughly reclaimed from all such life. To elude the bad consequences of such a pretended, not only deterred from keeping his ap. no means adequate to their tastes and habits of thoughts in future, by an apparition. See his Life by connection, Strephon was sent abroad with a

Doddridge.

THE chorus of this song is old.-The rest of Pace upo' your spinning-wheel,

WERE NA MY HEART LIGHT I WAD DIE.

LORD HAILES, in the notes to his collection of ancient Scots poems, says that this song was the composition of a Lady Grissel Baillie, daughter of the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie, of Jerviswood.-BURNS.

THERE was anes a May, and she loo'd na men, She biggit her bonny bow'r down in yon glen; But now she cries dool! and a well-a-day! Come down the green gate, and come here away.

When bonny young Johny came o'er the sea,
He said he saw naithing sae lovely as me;
He hecht me baith rings and mony braw things;
And were na my heart light I wad die.

The wife took a dwam, and lay down to die; She main'd and she grain'd out of dolour and pain,

Till he vow'd he never wad see me again,
She main'd &c.

• The hand of Burns is visible here. The 1st and 4th verses only are the original ones.