By the oye, it is singular enough that the Scottish Muses were all Jacobites.-I have paid more attention to every description of Scots songs than perhaps any body living has done, and I do not recollect one single stanza, or even the title of the most trifling Scots air, which has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau or Brunswick; while there are hundreds satirizing them. This may be thought no panegyric on the Scots Poets, but I mean it as such. For myself, I would always take it as a compliment to have it said, that my heart ran before my head; and surely the gallant though unfortunate house of Stuart, the kings of our fathers for so many heroic ages, is a theme much more interesting than BURNS. My love was once a bonny lad, He was the flower of all his kin, The absence of his bonny face Has rent my tender heart in twain. I day nor night find no delight, In silent tears I still complain; And exclaim 'gainst those my rival foes, That ha'e ta'en from me my darling swain. Despair and anguish fills my breast, Since I have lost my blooming rose; His absence yields me no repose. There's naething strange in Nature's change, Since parents shew such cruelty; They caus'd my love from me to range, And knows not to what destiny. The pretty kids and tender lambs May cease to sport upon the plain; But I'll mourn and lament in deep discontent Kind Neptune, let me thee entreat, All joy and mirth at our return Shall then abound from Tweed to Tay; CHARLIE, HE'S MY DARLING' OLD VERSES. Tune" Charlie is my darling." 'Twas on a Monday morning, Richt early in the year, As he was walking up the street, Sae licht's he jumped up the stair, He set his Jenny on his knee, It's up yon heathy mountain, THE SOUTERS OF SELKIRK. Up with the souters of Selkirk, And down with the Earl of Home! And up wi' a' the brave lads, Wha sew the single-soled shoon! O! fye upon yellow and yellow, Up wi' the souters of Selkirk Up wi' the lingle and last! Up wi' the souters of Selkirk Lads that are trusty and leal; O! mitres are made for noddles, But feet they are made for shoon; †The person known in Scottish song and tradition by the epithet Clerk Dishington, was a notary who re. sided about the middle of the last century in Crail, and acted as the town-clerk of that ancient burgh. have been informed that he was a person of great local MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O. GALL.. Tune-"My only jo and dearie, O." THY cheek is o' the rose's hue, When we were bairnies on yon brae, Our joys fu' sweet and monie, O. I hae a wish I canna tine, 'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, 0; A wish that thou wert ever mine, And never mair to leave me, O; Nane o' her relations or friends could stay wi' her: The neebours and bairns are fain to flee frae her: And I my ainsell am forced to gie way till her: O gin I were fairly shot o' her! O gin I were fairly shot o' her! &c. She gangs aye sae braw, she's sae muckle pride in her; celebrity in his time, as an uncompromising humour-There's no a gudewife in the haill country-side ist. like her: • Richard Gall, the son of a dealer in old furniture in St. Mary's Wynd, Edinburgh, was brought up to the business of a printer, and died at an early age, about the beginning of the present century. Wi' dress and wi' drink, the deil wadna bide wi' When our gudewife had puddins to mak, FARE YE WEEL, MY AULD WIFE. AND fare ye weel, my auld wife; Fare ye weel, my auld wife; Sing bum, bum, bum. Fare ye weel, my auld wife, The maut 's abune the meal the nicht, And fare ye weel, my pike-staff; Sing bum, bee, berry, bum: Fare ye weel, my pike-staff; Sing bum, bum, bum. Fare ye weel, my pike-staff, GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. Ir fell about the Martinmas time, ⚫ From Herd's Collection, 1776.-A slightly differ. ent version is put by Sir Walter Scott into the mouth of Davie Gellatley, in the celebrated novel of Waverley "False love, and hast thou play'd me this, "Unless again, again, my love, As you with other maidens rove, And she boil'd them in the pan. And the barrin' o' our door weil, weil, weil, And the barrin' o' our door weil. The wind blew cauld frae south to north, Says our gudeman to our gudewife, My hand is in my hussyfe skep, An it shouldna be barr'd this hunner year, And the barrin', &c. They made a paction 'tween them twa, The first that spak the foremost word Then by there came twa gentlemen, And they could neither see house nor ha', And the barrin', &c. Now whether is this a rich man's house, But never a word wad ane o' them speak, And the barrin', &c. And first they ate the white puddins, And syne they ate the black; And muckle thocht our gudewife to hersell, But never a word she spak. And the barrin', &c. "gudeman" of this song was a person of the name of John Blunt, who lived of yore in Crawford-Muir. There are two tunes to which it is often sung. One of them is in most of the Collections of Scottish Tunes; HERE'S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT'S AWA. Tune-"Here's a health to them that's awa." HERE's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to them that's awa; Here's a health to them that were here shart syne, And canna be here the day. It's gude to be merry and wise; It's gude to be honest and true; It's gude to be aff wi' the auld love, Before ye be on wi' the new. HEY, CA' THROUGH. Tune" Hey, ca' through." Ur wi' the carles o' Dysart, And the lads o' Buckhaven, Hey, ca' through, ca' through, We hae tales to tell, Hey, ca' through, &c. We'll live a' our days; the other, though to appearance equally ancient, seems I LO’ED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE. to have been preserved by tradition alone, as we have never seen it in print. A third tune, to which we have heard this song sung, by only one person, an American student, we suspect to have been imported from his own country. "Logie o' Buchan" is stated by Mr. Peter Buchan of Peterhead, in his Gleanings of Scarce Old Ballads (1827), to have been the composition of Mr. George Halket, and to have been written by him while schoolmaster of Rathen, in Aberdeenshire, about the year 1736. "The poetry of this individual," says Mi. Buchan, "was chieffy Jacobitical, and long remained familiar amongst the peasantry in that quarter of the Country: One of the best known of these, at the present, is Wherry, Whigs, awa, man! In 1746, Mr. Halket wrote a dialogue betwixt George II. and the Devil, which falling into the hands of the Duke of Cumberland while on his march to Culloden, he offered one hundred pounds reward for the person or the head of its author. Mr. Halket died in 1756. "The Logie here mentioned, is in one of the adjoning parishes (Cramond) where Mr. Halket then sided; and the hero of the piece was a James Robrison, gardener at the place of Logie." CLUNIE. Tune-" My lodging is on the cold ground.” I LO❜ED ne'er a laddie but ane; He lo'ed ne'er a lassie but me; He's willing to mak me his ain; And his ain I am willing to be. He has coft me a rokelay o' blue, And a pair o' mittens o' green; The price was a kiss o' my mou'; And I paid him the debt yestreen. Let ithers brag weel o' their gear, Their land, and their lordly degree, I carena for ought but my dear, For he's ilka thing lordly to me: His words are sac sugar'd, sae sweet! His sense drives ilk fear far awa! I listen-poor fool! and I greet; Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'! · |