And Madge that was buckled to Steenie, Fy let us all, &c. And there will be Judan Maclawrie, And blinkin daft Barbra Macleg.' * The line omitted describes in a humorous but most gross manner a misfortune, the consequence of fashionable schooling, that happened to poor "Kirsh wi' the lily-white leg." The conduct of this polished lady is a well-timed satire on the prevalence of Southern refinement over "old use and wont." The modern way of educating country girls is seldom attended with more delicate effects. Pushed into the effeminate and seductive scenes of a ladies' boarding-school, their rustic uncouthness is tinged with politer dress and politer language. They are called home by their parents ere the loose chaff of vulgarity be winnowed from them, and are but like a statue half relieved from the quarry block. They are a kind of awkward, mulish nondescript. Their half-formed notions of refinement unfit them for the useful homely drudgery of a rustic life, and in their clumsy And there will be happer-ars'd Nansy, And there will be girn-again Gibbie, The lad that was skipper himsel. And there will be fadges and brachen, clumsy attempts at gentility, they are as ridiculous as the ass imitating the spaniel in the fable: So that their "ganging to the South for manners," and "supping boarding-school brose," have become proverbial among the reflecting peasantry of Scotland, for laxity of morals, and Repentance-stool qualifications.-Ed. And there will be partans and buckies, And singed sheep-heads, and a haggize, And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks, With skink to sup till ye rive; And rosts to rost on a brander, Of flouks that were taken alive. Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dilse, and tangles, Then fy let us all to the bridal, O CAN YE LABOUR LEA, YOUNG MAN. THIS song has long been known among the inhabitants of Nithsdale and Galloway, where it is a great favourite. The first verse should be restored to its original state. I feed a lad at Roodsmass, Wi' siller pennies three e; When he came home at Martinmass, He could nae labour lea. O canna ye labour lea, young lad, Indeed, quo' he, my hand's out- This old way is the truest, for the terms, Roodmass is the hiring fair, and Hallowmass the first of the half year. I feed a man at Martinmass, He could na labor lea. |