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TUNE-Symon Brodie,

SYMON Brodie had a cow :

The cow was lost, and he couldna find her :

Let Mahomet drink wine,

And Mercury drink nectar ;
Set thou thy foot to mine,
We'll hold our ale's as fine

As Oliver's * Protector. The reader will find Burns's own opinion of this favourite war-song, in the following letter, which was written by him, at Dumfries, on the 5th of December 1793, to a country gentleman of Perthshire, who was residing there in command of a party of Fencibles. I am indebted for this very interesting document, which is here printed with all the literal peculiarities of the original, to Mr Stewart of Dalguise. It is perhaps one of the most characteristic letters Burns ever wrote:

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“ Heated as I was with wine yesternight, I was perhaps rather seemingly impertinent in my anxious wish to be honoured with your acquaintance. You will forgive it: 'twas the impulse of heartfelt respect. He is the father of the Scotch County Reform, and is a man who does honour to the business, at the same time that the business does honour to him !' said my worthy friend Glenriddel, to somebody by me, who was talking of your coming to this country with your corps. Ther, I replied, I have a woman's longing to take him by the hand, and say to him, Sir, í honour you as a man to whom the interests of humanity are dear, and as a Patriot to whom the Rights of your Country are sacred.

“ In times such as these, sir, when our Commoners are barely able, by the glimmer of their own twilight understandings, to scrawl a frank; and when Lords are -what gentlemen would be ashamed to be; to wliom shall a sinking country call for help? To the independant country gentleman ! To him who has too deep a stake in his country, not to be in earnest for her welfare; and who, in the honest pride of man, can view with equal contempt, the insolence of office, and the allurements of corruption.

“I mentioned to you a Scots ode or song I had lately composed, and which, I think, has some merit. Allow me to enclose it. When I fall in with you at the Theatre, I shall be glad to have your opinion of it. Accept of it, sir; as a very humble, but most sincere tribute of respect, from a man, who, dear as he prizes Poetic Fame, yet holds dearer an Independant Mind.

« I have the honor to be,

" Sir,

“ Your very humble servt.


- Tuesday morning."

* “ A Bailie and Apothecary in Peterhead; a boon companion, not only for Crambe, but also refers to his father's keeping a brewery."-Note by the Collector.

When he had done what man could do,
The cow cam hame, and her tail behind her.

Honest auld Symon Brodie,
Stupid auld doitit bodie !

I'll awa to the North countrie,
And see my ain dear Symon Brodie.

Symon Brodie bad a wife,

And, wow ! but she was braw and bonnie ; She took the dish-clout aff the buik, And preen'd it to her cockernonie.

Honest auld Symon Brodie, &c.*



TUNE-Craigieburn Wood.
Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,

And blythe awakes the morrow ;
But a' the pride o' spring's return

Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
I see the flowers and spreading trees,

I hear the wild birds singing,
But what a wearie wight can please,

And care his bosom wringing ?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,

Yet dare na for your anger ;
But secret love will break

my heart,
If I conceal it langer.
If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shalt love anither,

* From Herd's Collection, 1776.

When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,

Around my grave they'll wither. *



Tune-Up in the Air.
Now the sun's gane out o' sight,
Beet the ingle, and snuff the light.
In glens the fairies skip and dance ;
And witches wallop o'er to France.
Up in the air,


mare !
And I see her yet, and I see her yet!

On my

The wind's drifting hail and snaw
Ower frozen haggs, like a foot-ba;
Nae starns keek through the azure slit ;
'Tis canld, and mirk as ony pit.

The man in the moon

Is carousing aboon;
D'ye see, d'ye see, d’ye see him yet?
Take your glass to clear your een.
'Tis the elixir heals the spleen;
Baith wit and mirth it will inspire,
And gently beets the lover's fire.

Up in the air,

It drives away care ;
Hae wi' you, hae wi' you, hae wi' you, lads, yet !

* The heroine of this song was a Miss Lorimer, who resided at Craigieburn, near Moffat, in Annandale, and who was the Chloris of so many other songs of Burns. It refers to a passion which Mr Gillespie, an inti. mate friend of the poet, entertained for Miss Lorimer. The lady afterwards married a Mr Whelpdale. The woods of Craigieburn and Dumcrieff, the last of which contained the seat of his respected editor, Dr Cur. rie, were at one time favourite haunts of the poet.

Steek the doors ; keep out the frost;
Come, Willie, gie's about your toast !
Fill it, lads, and tilt it out,
And let us hae a blythesome bout.

Up wi't ! there, there!

Dinna cheat, but drink fair.
Huzza, huzza, and huzza, lads, yet I *


TUNE-Through the Wood, Laddie.
O, SANDY, why leave thus thy Nelly to mourn ?

Thy presence could ease me,

When naething can please me;
Now dowie I sigh on the bank o' the burn,
Or through the wood, laddie, until thou return.

Though woods now are bonnie, and mornings are clear,

Wbile lavrocks are singing,

And primroses springing;
Yet nane o' them pleases my eye or my ear,
When through the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.

That I am forsaken, some spare not to tell ;

I'm fash'd wi' their scornin'
Baith e'enin' and mornin';

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724. There is an old ballad (of which, however, I have been unable to procure a copy) that appears to have given the poet the first hint of this composition. It represents a tyrannical uncle pursuing a young gentleman, his nephew, who had just been paying his addresses to his cousin, the daughter of the said uncle. The youthful lover has had the good sense to leave behind a servant, or companion, with instructions to mislead the vengeful man, in case he should come up and inquire which way the fugitive had gone. When the uncle comes up, this individual answers to his inquiries, that the person he was in quest of

" is up in the air On his bonpie gray mare,

And I see him, and I see him, and I see him yet." The effect of which bamboozling is such as to permit the lover's escape.

Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When through the wood, laddie, I wander mysell.

Then stay, my dear Sandy, nae langer away ;

But, quick as an arrow,

Haste here to thy marrow, Wha's living in languor till that happy day, When through the wood, laddie, thegither we'll gae.*


TUNE-Bide ye yet.

Oh,'had I a house and a cantie wee fire,
A bonnie wee wifie to praise and admire,
A bonnie wee yardie beside a wee burn,
Fareweel to the bodies that yammer and mourn.

And bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,
Ye little ken what may betide me yet;
Some bonnie wee bodie may fa' to my lot,
And I'll aye be cantie wi' thinkin' o't.

When I


a-field and come bame at e'en, I'll find my wee wifie fu' neat and fu' clean ; And a bonnie wee bairnie upon her knee, That 'll cry Papa, or Daddie, to me.

I carena a button for sacks fu' o' cash ;
Let wizen'd auld bachelors think on sic trash :
Gie me my dear lassie to sit on iny
A kiss o' her mou' is worth thousands to me.

knee ;

And if there ever should happen to be
A difference atween my wee wifie and me;

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

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