HALLOWEEN.

She turns the key, wi' cannie thraw,
An' owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gies a ca',

Syne bauldly in she enters;
A ratton rattl'd up the wa',

An' she cry'd, Lord preserve her!
An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a',
An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervour,
Fu' fast that night.

They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice;
They hecht him some fine braw ane;
It chanc'd the stack he faddom't thrice
Was timmer-propt for thrawin :
He taks a swirlie, auld moss-oak,
For some black, grousome Carlin ;
An' loot a winze, an' drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin

Aff's nieves that night.

A wanton widow Leezie was,

As cantie as a kittlin;

But Och! that night, amang the shaws,
She gat a fearfu' settlin!
She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn,
An' owre the hill gaed scrievin,
Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn, t
To dip her left sark-sleeve in,

Was bent that night.

Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
As thro' the glen it wimpl't;
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;

Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazel,
Unseen that night.

Amang the brachens on the brae,
Between her an' the moon,
The Deil, or else an outler Quey,
Gat up an' gae a croon :
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav'rock height she jumpit,
But mist a fit, an' in the pool
Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,

Wi' a plunge that night.

In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The luggies three are ranged;
And ev'ry time great care is taen,
To see them duly changed:
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys
Sin' Mar's-year did desire,
Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heav'd them on the fire

In wrath that night.

Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks,
I wat they did na weary;
And unco tales, an' funnie jokes,

Their sports were cheap and cheary;
Till butter'd So'ns, § wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a-steerin ;
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
They parted aff careerin

Fu' blythe that night.

open both doors, taking them off the hinges, if possible; for there is danger, that the being, about to appear, may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then take that instrument used in winnowing the corn, which, in our country dialect, we call a wecht; and go through all the attitudes of letting down corn against the wind. Repeat it three times; and the third time an apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other, having both the figure in question, and the appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life. R. B. Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a Bear-stack, and fathom it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. R. B.

You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring or rivulet, where Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang three lairds' lands meet,' and dip your left shirt sleeve. your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it. R. B.

Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty : blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony, a maid: if in the foul, a widow if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times; and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered. R. B.

§ Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper. R. B.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS

A CANTATA.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie bird,

Bedim cauld Boreas' blast:
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,

In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night, at e'en, a merry core
O' randie, gangrel bodies,
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies:
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The verra girdle rang.

AIR.

First, niest the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae and blankets warm,
She blinket on her sodger;
An' aye he gies the towsie drab
The tither skelpin' kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab,
Just like an aumous dish;

Ilk smack still, did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whip,
Then staggering, and swaggering
He roar'd this ditty up-

TUNE- Soldier's Joy.'

I AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

My 'prentiship I pass'd where my leader breath'd his last,
When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram ;
I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was play'd,
And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries,
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb:
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

And now, tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg,
And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum,
I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet,
As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks,
Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a home;
When the t'other bag I sell, and the t'other bottle tell,
I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of the drum,

But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch,
So the sword I forsook for the sake of the church;
He ventur'd the soul, I risked the body,
'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie.

Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot,
The regiment at large for a husband I got;
From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,
I asked no more but a sodger laddie.

Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair,
Till I met my old boy at a Cunningham fair;
His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy,
My heart it rejoic'd at my sodger laddie.

Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

And now I have liv'd-I know not how long,
And still I can join in a cup or a song;

But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady,
Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie.

Poor Merry Andrew, in the neuk

RECITATIVO.

Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler hizzie; They mind't na wha the chorus teuk, Between themselves they were sae bizzy;

Sing, Lal de lal, &c

At length, wi' drink and courting dizzy,
He stoitered up an' made a face;
Then turn'd, an' laid a smack on Grizzy,
Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave grimace.

E