OH, WHAT A PARISH!

ADAM CRAWFORD.

Tune-" Bonnie Dundee."

O, what a parish, what a terrible parisk,
O, what a parish is that of Dunkell!
They hae hangit the minister, drouned the
precentor,

Dung down the steeple, and drucken the bell!

THOUGH the steeple was doun, the kirk was still stannin ;

They biggit a lum where the bell used to hang; A stel-pat they gat, and they brewed Hieland whisky:

On Sundays they drank it, and rantit and sang! O, what a parish, &c.

Oh, had you but seen how gracefu' it luikit, To see the crammed pews sae socially join! Macdonald, the piper, stuck up i' the poupit, He made the pipes skirl sweet music divine! O, what a parish, &c.

When the heart-cheerin spirit had mountit the garret,

To a ball on the green they a' did adjourn; Maids, wi' their coats kiltit, they skippit and

liltit;

When tired, they shook hands, and a hame did return.

O, what a parish, &c.

Wad the kirks in our Britain haud sic social meetings,

Nae warning they'd need frae a far-tinkling bell; For true love and friendship wad ca' them thegither,

Far better than roaring o' horrors o' hell.* O, what parish, &c.

OLD KING COUL.

OLD King Coul was a jolly old soul,
And a jolly old soul was he;

And old King Coul he had a brown bowl,
And they brought him in fiddlers three;
And every fiddler was a very good fiddler,
And a very good fiddler was he:
Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers

three:

And there's no a lass in a' Scotland,

Compared to our sweet Marjorie.

Old King Coul was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he;

Old King Coul was a jolly old soul,
And a jolly old soul was he;

Old King Coul, he had a brown bowl,

And they brought him in drummers three: Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, went the drummers; Twarra-rang, twarra rang, went the trumpeters;

Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers;

Ha-diddle, how-diddle, ha-diddle, how-diddle, went the pipers;

Fiddle-diddle, fiddle-diddle, went the fiddlers three:

And there's no a lass in a' the land,
Compared to sweet Marjorie.

POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE.

JOANNA BAILLIE.

Tune-" Todlin hame."

songs.

When he went to the weapon-shaw;
Upon the green nane durst him brag,
The fient a ane amang them a'.

And was not Willie weel worth gowd?
He wan the love o' grit and sma';
For, after he the bride had kiss'd,

He kiss'd the lasses haill-sale a'.

Sae merrily round the ring they row'd,
When by the hand he led them a';
And smack on smack ou them bestow'd,
By virtue of a standing law.

And was na Willie a great loun,

As shyre a lick as e'er was seen?
When he danced with the lasses round,
The bridegroom spier'd where he had been.
Quoth Willie, I've been at the ring;

Gae ca' the bride and maidens in,
Wi' bobbin', faith, my shanks are sair;

For Willie he dow do na mair.

Then rest ye, Willie, I'll gae out,

And for a wee fill up the ring;
But shame licht on his souple snout '
He wanted Willie's wanton fling.
Then straight he to the bride did fare,

Says, Weel's me on your bonny face:
With bobbin' Willie's shanks are sair,
And I am come to fill his place.
Bridegroom, says she, you'll spoil the dance,
And at the ring you'll aye be lag,
Unless like Willie ye advance;

Oh, Willie has a wanton leg!
For wi't he learns us a' to steer,
And foremost aye bears up the ring;

board;

But now they pass by me, and never a word.

So let it be,

For the worldly and slie

Wi' poverty keep nae companie.

If we want Willie's wanton fling.

WILLIE WAS A WANTON WAG.

WILLIAM WALKINGSHAW OF WALKINGSHAW.

Tune-" Willie was a wanton Wag."

WILLIE was a wanton wag,
The blythest lad that e'er I saw :
At bridals still he bore the brag,

And carried aye the gree awa.
His doublet was of Shetland shag,
And wow but Willie he was braw;
And at his shouthers hung a tag

That pleased the lasses best of a'.

He was a man without a clag;

His heart was frank, without a flaw; And aye whatever Willie said,

It still was hadden as a law.

THE AULD MAN'S MEAR'S DEAD.

Tune-" The auld man's mear's dead."

The auld man's mear's dead;
The puir body's mear's dead;
The auld man's mear's dead,
A mile aboon Dundee.

THERE was hay to ca', and lint to lead,
A hunder hotts o' muck to spread,
And peats and truffs and a' to lead-
And yet the jaud to dee!
The auld man's, &c.

She had the fiercie and the fleuk,
The wheezloch and the wanton yeuk;
On ilka knee she had a breuk-
What ail'd the beast to dee?
The auld man's, &c.

From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724. As it is there signed by the initials of the author, there arises a presumption that he was alive, and a friend of Ramsay, at the period of the publication of that work.

Yet the doctors they do a' agree,
That whisky's no the drink for me.
Saul quoth Neil, 'twill spoil my glee,
Should they part me and whisky, O.

Though I can baith get wine and ale,
And find my head and fingers hale,
I'll be content, though legs should fail,
To play farewell to whisky, O
But still I think on auld lang syne,
When Paradise our friends did tyne,
Because something ran in their mind,

Forbid like Highland whisky, O.

Come, a' ve powers o' music, come;
I find my heart grows unco glum;
My fiddle-strings will no play bum,

To say, Fareweel to whisky, O.
Yet I'll take my fiddle in my hand,
And screw the pegs up while they'll stand,
To make a lamentation grand,

On gude auld Highland whisky, O.

THE LAMMIE.

HECTOR MACNEILL.

Tune-" Whar hae ye been a' day.”

WHAR hae ye been a' day,

My boy Tammy?

I've been by burn and flow'ry orae,
Meadow green and mountain grey,
Courting o' this young thing,

Just come frae her mammy.

And whar gat ye that young thing,
My boy Tammy?

I got her down in yonder howe,
Smiling on a bonnie knowe,
Herding ae wee lamb and ewe,

For her poor mammy.

What said ye to the bonnie bairn,
My boy Tammy?

I praised her een, sae lovely blue,
Her dimpled cheek and cherry mou ;-
I pree'd it aft, as ye may trow!-

She said she'd tell her mammy.

I held her to my beating heart,

My young, my smiling lammie!
I hae a house, it cost me dear,
I've wealth o' plenishen and gear;
Ye'se get it a', were't ten times mair,
Gin ye will leave your mammy.
The smile gaed aff her bonnie face-

I maunna leave my mammy.
She's gien me meat, she's gien me claise,
She's been my comfort a' my days:
My father's death brought monie waes—
I canna leave my mammy.

We'll tak her hame and mak her fain,

My ain kind-hearted lammie.
We'll gie her meat, we'll gie her claise,
We'll be her comfort a' her days.
The wee thing gies her hand, and says-
There! gang and ask my mammy.

Has she been to the kirk wi' thee,
My boy Tammy?

She has been to the kirk wi' me,
And the tear was in her ee:
For O! she's but a young thing,
Just come frae her mammy.

THE WEE WIFIKIE.

DR. A. GEDDES.

Tune" The wee bit Wifikie."

THERE was a wee bit wifikie was comin' frae

the fair,

Had got a wee bit drappikie, that bred her muckle care;

It gaed about the wifie's heart, and she began to spew.

O! quo' the wifikie, I wish I binna fou.

I wish I binna fou, I wish I binna fou,
O! quo' the wifikie, I wish I binna fou.

If Johnnie find me barley-sick, I'm sure he'll claw my skin;

But I'll lie doun and tak a nap before that I gae in.

Sittin' at the dyke-side, and takin' o' her nap, By cam a packman laddie, wi' a little pack.

Wi' a little pack, quo she, wi' a little pack, By cam a packman laddie, wi' a little pack. He's clippit a' her gowden locks, sae bonnie and sae lang;

He's ta'en her purse and a' her placks, and fast awa he ran :

And when the wife wakened, her head was

like a bee,