Yet, though he often sighed, he ne'er a word [Now ye peep like a powt; ye glumph and ye gaunt; Oh, Tammy, my man, are ye turned a saunt? Come, lowse your heart, ye man o' the muir; We tell our distress ere we look for a cure: There's laws for a wrang, and sa's for a sair; Sae, Tammy, my man, what wad ye hae mair? Oh! neebour, it neither was thresher nor thief, That deepened my ee, and lichtened my beef; But the word that makes me sae waefu' and wan, Is-Tam o' the Balloch's a married man! The auld wife beyont the fire, Her mill into some hole had fawn, Whatrecks, quoth she, let it be gawn, For I maun hae a young goodman Shall furnish me with snishing. The auld wife, &c. Her eldest dochter said right bauld, Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld, And if ye with a younker wald, He'll waste away your snishing. The youngest dochter ga'e a shout, Ye lied, ye limmers, cries auld mump, For I hae baith a tooth and stump, And will nae langer live in dump, By wanting of my snishing. The auld wife, &c. Thole ye, says Peg, that pawky slut, That you shall have a snishing. The auld ane did agree to that, The auld wife, &c. Braw sport it was to see her chow't, At last she ga'e a desperate squeez, She of the task began to tire, Ye auld wives, notice well this truth, Assoon as ye're past mark of mouth, Snishing, in its literal meaning, is snuff made of tobacco; but, in this song, it means sometimes con tentment, a husband, love, money, &c. Ne'er do what's only fit for youth,, Else, like this wife beyont the fire, BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY. O BESSY Bell and Mary Gray, They are twa bonny lassies, They bigg'd a bow'r on yon burn-brae, And theek'd it o'er wi' rashes. Fair Bessy Bell I loo'd yestreen, And thought I ne'er could alter; But Mary Gray's twa pawky een, They gar my fancy falter. Now Bessy's hair's like a lint tap; She smiles like a May morning, When Phoebus starts frae Thetis' lap, The hills with rays adorning : White is her neck, saft is her hand, Her waist and feet's fu' genty; With ilka grace she can command; Her lips, O wow! they're dainty. And Mary's locks are like a craw, Her een like diamonds glances; She's ay sae clean, redd up, and braw, She kills whene'er she dances: Blythe as a kid, with wit at will, She blooming, tight, and tall is; And guides her airs sae gracefu' still. O Jove, she's like thy Pallas. Dear Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, Ye unco sair oppress us; To ane by law we're stented; BONNY BARBARA ALLAN. Ir was in and about the Martinmas time, When the green leaves were a-falling, That Sir John Græme in the west country Fell in love with Barbara Allan. He sent his man down through the town, To the place where she was dwelling, O haste, and come to my master dear, Gin ye be Barbara Allan. Ohooly, hooly rose she up, To the place where he was lying, And when she drew the curtain by, Tho' your heart's blood were a-spilling. O dinna ye mind, young man, said she, He turn'd his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealing; Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allan. And slowly, slowly raise she up, She had not gane a mile but twa, O mother, mother, make my bed, O make it saft and narrow, Since my love dy'd for me to-day, I'll die for him to-morrow. ETTRICK BANKS. ON Ettrick banks, in a summer's night, I met my lassie braw and tight, Came wading, barefoot, a' her lane: My heart grew light, I ran, I flang My arms about her lily neck, And kiss'd and clapp'd her there fou lang; My words they were na mony, feck. I said, my lassie, will ye go To the highland hills, the Earse to learn? I'd baith gi'e thee a cow and ew, When ye come to the brigg of Earn. At Leith, auld meal comes in, ne'er fash, And herrings at the Broomy Law; Chear up your heart, my bonny lass, There's gear to win we never saw. All day when we have wrought enough, When winter, frosts, and snaw begin, Soon as the sun gaes west the loch, At night when you sit down to spin, I'll screw my pipes and play a spring : And thus the weary night will end, Till the tender kid and lamb-time bring Our pleasant summer back again Byne when the trees are in their bloom, That make the kindly hearts their sport, THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY.. DAVID MALLET. Tune-"The Birks of Invermay." Like them, improve the hour that flies; For soon the winter of the year, How happy, he cried, my moments once flew, Ere Chloe's bright charms first flash'd in my view! Those eyes then wi' pleasure the dawn could survey; Nor smiled the fair morning mair cheerful than Now scenes of distress please only my sight; Through changes in vain relief I pursue, But see the pale moon, all clouded, retires; THE BRUME O' THE COWDEN. Tune" The Brume o' the Cowdenknowes." How blyth, ilk morn, was I to see My swain come ower the hill! Oh, the brume, the bonnie, bonnie brume! I wanted neither yowe nor lamb, He tuned his pipe, and play'd sae sweet, While thus we spent our time, by turns, Invermay is a small woody glen, watered by the rivulet May, which there joins the river Earn. It is about ave miles above the bridge of Earn, and nearly nine from Perth. The seat of Mr. Belsches, the prietor of this poetical region, and who takes from it pro. his territorial designation, stands at the bottom of the glen. Both sides of the little vale are completely wood. ed, chiefly with birches; and it is altogether, in point of natural loveliness, a scene worthy of the attention of the amatory muse. The course of the May is so sunk among rocks, that it cannot be seen, but it can easily be traced in its progress by another sense. The peculiar sound which it makes in rushing through one particular part of its narrow, rugged, and tortuous with great effect, in St. Cecilia's Hall, at Edinburgh, The celebrated Tenducci used to sing this song, channel, has occasioned the descriptive appellation of about fifty years ago. Mr. Tytler, who was a great pa the Humble-Bumble to be attached to that quarter of tron of that obsolete place of amusement, says, in his the vale. Invermay may be at once and correctly de- Dissertation on Scottish Music, "Who could hear scribed as the fairest possible little miniature specimen with insensibility, or without being moved in the highof cascade scenery. est degree, Tenducci sing, I'll never leave thee, or, The song appeared in the 4th volume of the Tea-The Braes o' Ballendean. The air was composed by Table Miscellany. Oswald. But should my cankert daddie gat Me tak him 'gainst my inclination, 1 warn the fumbler to beware That antlers dinna claim their station. Hout awa! I winna hae him! Na, forsooth, I winna hae him! I'm flee'd to crack the haly band, Sae lawty says, I shou'd na hae him. THE WEE THING. MACNEIL. Tune-"Bonnie Dundee." SAW ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing? Saw ye my true love down on yon lea? Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin'? Sought she the burnie whar flow'rs the hawtree? Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milkwhite; Dark is the blue o' her saft-rolling e; Red red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses : Whar could my wee thing wander frae me ?--- I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing, Nor saw I your true love down on yon lea; But I met my bonnie thing late in the gloamin, Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw tree. Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milk-white; Dark was the blue o' her saft-rolling ee; Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses; Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me!- It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing, It was na my true love ye met by the tree: Proud is her leal heart! and modest her nature She never loed onie till ance she loed me. Her name it is Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary; Aft has she, sat, when a bairn, on my knee : Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer, Young bragger, she ne'er would gie kisses to thee! It was, then, your Mary; she's frae CastleCary; It was, then, your true love I met by the tree: Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature, Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me.→→→ Sair gloom'd his dark brow-blood-red his cheek grew Wild flash'd the fire frae his red-rolling ee! |