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I'll lay me there and tak my rest :
And, if that aught disturb my dear,
And beg her not to drop a tear.
United still her heart and mine;
That's twined till death shall them disjoin.
POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE.
WHEN white was my o'erlay as foam o' the linn,
Kind was she,
friends were free:
Woe is me,
And can it then be,
We met at the fair, we met at the kirk,
Leaves frae the tree
At bridal and infare I've braced me wi' pride;
And loud was the laughter gay fellows among,
Dowie to dree
When poverty parts gude companie.
So let it be,
WILLIE WAS A WANTON WAG.
WILLIAM WALKINGSHAW OF WALKINGSHAW.
TUNE-Willie was a wanton Wag.
The blythest lad that e'er I saw :
And wow but Willie he was braw;
That pleased the lasses best of a'.
He was a man without a clag ;
His heart was frank, without a flaw;
whatever Willie said,
* 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 predecessors. It is as follows:
But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart;
Cruelly though we
His boots they were made of the jag,
When he went to the weapon-shaw;
The fient a ane amang them a'.
And was not Willie weel worth gowd ?
He wan the love o' grit and sma';
He kiss'd the lasses baill-sale a'.
When by the hand he led them a';
By virtue of a standing law.
And was na Willie a great loun,
As shyre a lick as e'er was seen ?
The bridegroom spier'd where he had been.
Wi' bobbin', faith, my shanks are sair ;
For Willie he dow do na mair.
Then rest ye, Willie, I'll gae out,
And for a wee fill up the ring ;
He wanted Willie's wanton fling
Says, Weel's me on your bonny face !
And I am come to fill his place.
Bridegroom, says she, you'll spoil the dance,
And at the ring you'll aye be lag,
Oh, Willie has a wanton leg !
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;
A mile aboon Dundee.
There was hay to ca', and lint to lead,
And yet the jaud to dee!
She had the fiercie and the fleuk,
What ail'd the beast to dee?
She was lang-tooth'd and blench-lippit,
And yet the jaud to dee 1*
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,
Johnnie was the lad that held the pleuch,
eneuch; I mind weil the day when he was na worth a groat And the shame fa' the gear and the baigrie o't !
Jenny was the lassie that muckit the byre,
in her silken attire ;
Yet a' this shall never danton me,
THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND.
TUNE- The Blue Bells of Scotland.
O WHERE, and O where, does your Highland laddie
dwell? Owhere, and where, 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.