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E'en time itself despairs to cure
Those pangs to ev'ry feeling due : Ungenerous youth I thy boast how poor,
To win a heart and break it too.
No cold approach, no alter'd mien,
Just what would make suspicion start; No pause
the dire extremes between, He made me blest—and broke my heart.* From hope, the wretched's anchor, torn ;
Neglected and neglecting all ; Friendless, forsaken, and forlorn ;
The tears I shed must ever fall.
THE SOUTERS O' SELKIRK.
TUNE-The Souters of Selkirk.
with the souters o' Selkirk,
That wear the single-soled shoon!
Fye upon yellow and yellow,
And fye upon yellow and green ;
wi' the true blue and scarlet,
up wi' the souters o' Selkirk,
The quatrain ending here was supplied by Burns, to make the stanzas suit the music. This beautiful poem first appeared in Johnson's Musical Museum, Part IV, 1792.
wi' the lads o' the Forest,
O, MAY, THY MORN.
O, MAY, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
As the mirk nicht o’ December ;
* The first and third verse of this strange rant are from Johnson's Musi. cal Museum, (vol. v, circa 1798.] The second verse is supplied from a copy published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. There are various ways of accounting for the origin and occasion of the song ; but it seems proba. ble that the writer of the Statistical Account of the parish of Selkirk is right, when he says that it refers to a match at foot-ball which took place at some remote period between the Hume and Philiphaugh families, and in which the shoemakers of Selkirk acted a conspicuous part. The colours execrated in the second verse are those of the Earl of Hume's livery.
The following is an expanded version of the song from Mr Allan Cunningham's Collection :
Up with the souters of Selkirk,
And down with the Earl of Home!
Wha sew the single-soled shoon!
And fye upon yellow and green;
And up wi' the single-soled shoon !
Up wi' the lingle and last !
And glory wi' them that are past.
Lads that are trusty and leal ;
And down wi' the Merse to the deil!
O! mitres are made for noddles,
But feet they are made for shoon;
As light is true to the moon.
Wha sings as he draws his thread
As lang there's water in Tweed.
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber :
But I will aye remember ;
But I will aye remember.
And here's to them that, like oursell,
Can push about the jorum :
May a'that's gude watch o’er them!
The dearest o' the quorum ;
The dearest o' the quorum.
CHARLIE, HE'S MY DARLING.
Tune-Charlie is my darling.,
'Twas on a Monday morning,
Richt early in the year, ,
My darling, my darling;
The young Chevalier.
As he was walking up the street,
The city for to view,
The window looking through.
Sae licht's he jumped up the stair,
And tirled at the pin ;
To let the laddie in !
He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress;
It's up yon heathy mountain,
And down yon scroggy glen,
For Charlie and his men.
STEER HER UP AND HAUD HER GAUN.
TUNE-Steer her up and haud her gaun.
O STEER her
and haud her gaun;
E'en let her tak her will, jo.
Cast thy cares of love away;
'Tis daffin langer to delay.
See that shining glass of claret,
How invitingly it looks!
Pox on fighting, trade, and books !
* From Johnson's Musical Museum, vol. V, circa 1798.
Let's have pleasure, while we're able;
Bring us in the meikle bowl ;
And let wind and weather gowl.
Call the drawer; let him fill it
Fou as ever it can hold :
'Tis mair precious far than gold.
Bacchus will begin to prove,
Drinking better is than love.*
CLOUT THE CALDRON.+
TUNE-Clout the Caldron.
Have ye any pots or pans,
Or any broken chandlers? I
And newly come frae Flanders,
Disbanded, we've a bad run;
* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.
+ " A tradition is mentioned in The Bee,' that the second Bishop Chisholm of Dunblane used to say, that if he were going to be hanged, nothing would soothe his mind so much by the way, as to hear • Clout the Caldron' played. “ I have met with another tradition, that the old song to this tune
• Hae ye ony pots or pans,
Or ony broken chandlers ? was composed on one of the Kenmure family, in the earlier times, and alluded to an amour he had, while under hiding, in the disguise of an itinerant tinker. The air is also known by the name of The blacksmith and his apron,' which, from the rhythm, seems to have been a line of some old song to the tune."-Burns, apud Cromek's Select Scottish Songs, I, 11. Candlesticks.