I had nae a plack in my pouca
That night I was a bride;
My gown was linsy-woolsy,
And ne'er a sark ava,
And ye hae ribbons and buskins

Mair than ane or twa.'

Woo'd and married, &c.

"What's the matter?" quo' Willie, "Tho' we be scant o' claiths,

We'll creep the nearer thegither,
And we'll smoor a' the fleas;
Simmer is coming on,

And we'll get teats o' woo;

And we'll get a lass o' our ain,
And she'll spin claiths anew."
Woo'd and married, &c.

TIBBIE DUNBAR.

Tune-" Johnny M'Gill."

THIS tune is said to be the composition of John M'Gill, fiddler, in Girvan. He called it after his own name.-BURNS.

O, WILT thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar ; O, wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar;

Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

I carena thy daddie, his lands and his money,
I carena thy kin, sae high and sae lordly:
But say thou wilt hae me for better for waur,
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dun-
bar!

THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOUSE.

Sandilands, Weir, and Oliphant, (one of them resided at Gosford, and the others in the neighbourhood), were occasionally visited by their royal and gallant admirer, which gave rise to the following satirical advice to his Majesty, from Sir David Lindsay, of the Mount, Lord Lyon.

Sow not your seed on Sandylands,
Spend not your strength in Weir,
And ride not on an Elephant,
For spoiling o' your gear.-BURNS.

THE pawky auld carle came o'er the lee, Wi' many good e'ens and days to me, Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie,

Will ye lodge a silly poor man! The night was cauld, the carle was wat, And down ayont the ingle he sat ; My daughter's shoulders he 'gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang.

O THIS is no mine ain house,

My ain house, my ain house;
This is no mine ain house,
I ken by the biggin o't.

There's bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
Are my door-cheeks, are my door-cheeks;
There's bread and cheese are my door-cheeks;
And pan-cakes the riggin o't.

This is no my ain wean,

My ain wean, my ain wean;
This is no my ain wean,
I ken by the greetie o't.

I'll tak the curchie aff my head,
Aff my head, aff my head;
I'll tak the curchie aff my head,

And row't about the feetie o't.

As first when I saw this country,
How blyth and merry wad I be !

And I wad never think lang.
He grew canty, and she grew fain;
But little did her auld minny ken
What thir slee twa togither were say'n,
When wooing they were sae thrang.

And O! quo' he, ann ye were as black As e'er the crown of my dady's hat, 'Tis I wad lay thee by my back,

And awa' wi' me thou shou'd gang. And O! quo' she, ann I were as white, As e'er the snaw lay on the dike, I'd clead me braw, and lady like,

And awa' with thee I'd gang.

Between the twa was made a plot ; They raise awee before the cock, And wilily they shot the lock,

And fast to the bent are they gane.

THE GABERLUNZIE-MAN. THE Gaberlunzie-Man is supposed to commemorate an intrigue of James the Fifth. Mr. Callander of Craigforth, published some years ago, an edition of Christ's Kirk on the Green, and the Gaberlunzie-Man, with notes critical and historical. James the Fifth is said to have been fond of Gosford, in Aberlady Parish, and that it was suspected by his cotemporaries, that in his frequent excursions to that part of the country he had other purposes in view besides golfing and archery. Three favourite ladies,|

And at her leisure put on her claise; Syne to the servant's bed she gaes, To speer for the silly poor man.

The servant gade where the daughter lay,
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife gan say,
She's aff with the Gaberlunzie-man.

O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And haste ye find these traytors again;
For she's be burnt, and he's be slain,

The wearifu' Gaberlunzie-man.
Some rade upo' horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood, and out o' her wit:
She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit,
But ay she curs'd and she ban'd.

Mean time far hind out o'er the lea,
Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see,
The twa, with kindly sport and glee,

Cut frae a new cheese a whang:
The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith,
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith;
Quo' she, to leave thee I will be laith,
My winsome Gaberlunzie-man.

O kend my minny I were wi' you,
Illsardly wad she crook her mou,
Sie a poor man she'd never trow,

After the Gaberlunzie-man.
My dear, quo' he, ye're yet o'er young,
And ha' nae lear'd the beggar's tongue,
To follow me frae town to town,

And carry the Gaberlunzie on.

Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread,
And spindles and whorles for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed,

To carry the Gaberlunzie-0.
I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout o'er my eye,
A cripple or blind they will ca' me,
While we shall be merry and sing.

When Charlie look'd the letter upon,
He drew his sword the scabbard from,
Come follow me, my merry merry men,
And we'll meet wi' Coup i' the morning.
Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Now, Jonnie, be as good as your word,
Come let us try both fire and sword,
And dinna rin awa' like a frighted bird,
That's chas'd frae it's nest in the morning.
Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

When Jonnie Coup he heard of this,
He thought it wadna be amiss
To hae a horse in readiness,
To flie awa' i' the morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Fy now Jonnie get up and rin,
The Highland bagpipes makes a din,
It's best to sleep in a hale skin,
For 'twill be a bluddie morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

When Jonnie Coup to Berwick came,
They spear'd at him, where's a' your men,
The deil confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a' i' the morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Now, Jonnie, trouth ye was na blate,
To come wi' the news your ain defeat,
And leave your men in sic a strait,
So early in the morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Ah! faith, co' Jonnie, I got a fleg,
With their claymores and philabegs,
If I face them again, deil break my legs,
So I wish you a good morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

The servant gade where the daughter lay,
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife gan say,
She's aff with the Gaberlunzie-man.

O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And haste ye find these traytors again;
For she's be burnt, and he's be slain,

The wearifu' Gaberlunzie-man.
Some rade upo' horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood, and out o' her wit:
She cou'd na gang, nor yet cou'd she sit,
But ay she curs'd and she ban'd.

Mean time far hind out o'er the lea,
Fu' snug in a glen, where nane cou'd see,
The twa, with kindly sport and glee,

Cut frae a new cheese a whang:
The priving was good, it pleas'd them baith,
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith;
Quo' she, to leave thee I will be laith,
My winsome Gaberlunzie-man.

O kend my minny I were wi' you,
Illsardly wad she crook her mou,
Sie a poor man she'd never trow,

After the Gaberlunzie-man.
My dear, quo' he, ye're yet o'er young,
And ha' nae lear'd the beggar's tongue,
To follow me frae town to town,

And carry the Gaberlunzie on.

Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread,
And spindles and whorles for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed,

To carry the Gaberlunzie-0.
I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout o'er my eye,
A cripple or blind they will ca' me,
While we shall be merry and sing.

When Charlie look'd the letter upon,
He drew his sword the scabbard from,
Come follow me, my merry merry men,
And we'll meet wi' Coup i' the morning.
Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Now, Jonnie, be as good as your word,
Come let us try both fire and sword,
And dinna rin awa' like a frighted bird,
That's chas'd frae it's nest in the morning.
Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

When Jonnie Coup he heard of this,
He thought it wadna be amiss
To hae a horse in readiness,
To flie awa' i' the morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

Fy now Jonnie get up and rin,
The Highland bagpipes makes a din,
It's best to sleep in a hale skin,
For 'twill be a bladdie morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, &c.

When Jonnie Coup to Berwick came,
They spear'd at him, where's a' your men,
The dei confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a'i the morning,

Hey Jennie Comp, ye.

Now, Joanie, trouth ye was na blate,
To come wi' the news o' your in defeat,
And leave your men in se a strait,
So early in the morning.

Hey Jonnie Comp, &c.

Ah! faith, co' Jonnie, I got a feg,
With their claymores and plates,
If I face them again, dei break my legs
So I wish you a good morning.

Hey Jonnie Coup, te

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