I'll lay me there and tak my rest: United still her heart and mine; POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE. JOANNA BAILLIE. TUNE-Todlin hame. WHEN white was my o'erlay as foam o' the linn, And my friends were free: But poverty parts gude companie. How swift pass'd the minutes and hours of delight! Woe is me, And can it then be, That poverty parts sic companie ! We met at the fair, we met at the kirk, At Martinmas flee; And poverty parts sweet companie. At bridal and infare I've braced me wi' pride; And loud was the laughter gay fellows among, Are jesting and glee, When poverty parts gude companie. Wherever I gaed the blythe lasses smiled sweet, For the worldly and slie Wi' poverty keep nae companie.* 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 : He was a man without a clag; His heart was frank, without a flaw; It still was hadden as a law. I have thought it advisable to degrade the final stanza of this excellent song to the bottom of the page, from a conviction, in which nine out of ten readers will join me, that it can only spoil the fine effect of its prede cessors. It is as follows: But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart; Ilka day see How poverty parts good companie. His boots they were made of the jag, And was not Willie weel worth gowd? And was na Willie a great loun, As shyre a lick as e'er was seen? For Willie he dow do na mair. Then rest ye, Willie, I'll gae out, Bridegroom, says she, you'll spoil the dance, And foremost aye bears up the ring; We will find nae sic dancin' here, If we want Willie's wanton fling.* 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. 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; There was hay to ca', and lint to lead, She had the fiercie and the fleuk, She was lang-tooth'd and blench-lippit, And yet the jaud to dee !* *The late Rev. Mr C- minister of the parish of Borthwick, near Edinburgh, (who was so enthusiastically fond of singing Scottish songs, that he used to hang his watch round the candle on Sunday evenings, and wait anxiously till the conjunction of the hands at 12 o'clock permitted him to break out in one of his favourite ditties,) was noted for the admirable manner in which he sung" Bonny Dundee," "Waly, waly, up yon bank," "The Auld Man's Mear's dead," with many other old Scottish ditties. One day, happening to meet with some friends at a tavern in Dalkeith, he was solicited to favour the company with the latter humorous ditty; which he was accordingly singing with his usual effect and brilliancy, when the woman who kept the house thrust her head in at the door, and added, at the conclusion of one of the choruses, "Od, the auld man's mear's dead, sure eneuch. Your horse, minister, has hanged itsell at my door." Such was really the fact. The minister, on going into the house, had tied his horse by a rope to a hook, or ring, near the door, and as he was induced to stay much longer than he intended, the poor animal, either through exhaustion, or a sudden fit of disease, fell down, and was strangled. He was so much mortified by this unhappy accident, the coincidence of which with the subject of his song was not a little striking, that, all his life after, he could never be persuaded to sing "The Auld Man's Mear's dead" again. THE BAIGRIE O'T.* TUNE-The Blathrie o't. WHEN I think on this warld's pelf, I sich and look doun on my thread-bare coat; Johnnie was the lad that held the pleuch, But now he has gowd and gear eneuch; I mind weil the day when he was na worth a groat— Jenny was the lassie that muckit the byre, Yet a' this shall never danton me, Sae lang as I keep my fancy free; While I've but a penny to pay the t'other pot, THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND. MRS GRANT. TUNE-The Blue Bells of Scotland. O WHERE, and O where, does your Highland laddie dwell? Owhere, and Owhere, does your Highland laddie dwell? He dwells in merry Scotland, where the blue-bells sweetly smell, And oh, in my heart I love my laddie well. Shame fa' the gear and the baigrie o't," says Kelly," is spoken when a young handsome girl marries an old man on account of his wealth." The phrase, however, seems here used in a still more illiberal sense. From Herd's Collection, 1776. |