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Though he the royal sceptre sways,
Has such pleasant holidays.
Who'd be king, can ony tell,
When a shepherd sings sae well?
Sings sae well, and pays his due
With honest heart and tarry woo.*



TUNE— The Lass o' Fatie's Mill.

The lass o' Patie's Mill,

Sae bonnie, blythe, and gay,
In spite of a' my ski ,
She stole


When teddin out the hay,

Bareheaded on the green,
Love mid her locks did play,

And wanton'd in her een.

Without the help of art,'
Like flowers that


the wild,
She did her sweets impart,

Whene'er she spak or smild:
Her looks they were so mild,

Free from affected pride,
She me to love beguild;

I wish'd her for my bride. * From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

+ The scene of this song lies on the southern bank of the Irvine Water, near Newmills, in the eastern part of Ayrshire. I visited the spot in September 1826, and took an exact note of the locality. Patie's Mill, or rather Pate's Mill, for the poet seems to have eked out the name for the sake of his versification, stands about a stone-cast from the town of Newmills, and a mile from Loudoun Castle. The mill and all the contiguous tenements have been renewed since Ramsay's time, except part of one cottage. They occupy both sides of the road to Galston. A field is pointed out at the distance of two hundred yards from the mill, as that in which “the lass” was working at the time she was seen by the poet. Ramsay had been taking a forenoon ride with the Earl of Loudoun along the opposite bank of the river, when they observed the rural nymph, and the Earl pointed her out to his companion as a fit subject for his muse. Allan hung behind his lordship, in order to compose what was required, and produced the song at the dinner-table that afternoon.

One stanza, too minutely descriptive of her charms, is omitted in the above copy. The song appeared for the first time in the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

Oh ! had I a' the wealth

Hopetoun's high mountains fill,
Insured lang life and health,

And pleasure at my will ;
I'd promise, and fulfil,

That nane but bonnie she,
The lass o' Patie's Mill,

Should share the same wi' me.



TUNE-The yellow-hair'd Laddie.

The yellow-bair’d laddie sat doun on yon brae,
Cried, Milk the yowes, lassie, let nane o' them gae ;
And aye as she milkit, she merrily sang,
The yellow-hair'd laddie shall be my gudeman.

And ayé as she milkit, she merrily sang,

The yellow-hair'd laddie shall be my gudeman. The weather is cauld, and my cleadin is thin, The yowes are new clipt, and they winna bucht in ; They winna bucht in, although I should dee: Ob, yellow-hair'd laddie, be kind unto me.

The gudewife cries butt the house, Jennie, come ben;
The cheese is to mak, and the butter's to kirn.
Though butter, and cheese, and a' should gang sour,
I'll crack and I'll kiss wi' my love ae half hour.

It's ae lang half hour, and we'll e'en mak it three,
For the yellow-hair’d laddie my gudeman shall be.*

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany,




TUNE-The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.

In April, when primroses paint the sweet plain,
And summer approaching rejoiceth the swain,
The yellow-bair'd laddie would oftentimes go
To woods and deep glens where the hawthorn trees


There, under the shade of an old sacred thorn,
With freedom he sung bis loves, evening and morn :
He sung with so soft and enchanting a sound,
That sylvans and fairies, unseen, danced around.
The shepherd thus sung : “ Though young Maddie be

Her beauty is dash'd with a scornful proud air ;
But Susie was handsome, and sweetly could sing ;
Her breath's like the breezes perfumed in the spring.

“ That Maddie, in all the gay bloom of her youth,
Like the moon, was inconstant, and never spoke truth;
But Susie was faithful, good-humour'd, and free,
And fair as the goddess that sprung from the sea.
“ That mamma's fine daughter, with all her great

Was awkwardly airy, and frequently sour."
Then sighing, he wish’d, would but parents agree,
The witty sweet Susie his mistress might be. *



TUNE-Fee hin, Father.
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever ;

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,

Thou hast left me ever.
Aften hast thou vow'd that death

Only should us sever ;
Now thou'st left thy lass for aye-
I maun see thee

I'll see thee never.

never, Jamie,

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The auld Stuarts back again!
The auld Stuarts back again !
Let howlet Whigs do what they can,

The Stuarts will be back again.
Wha cares for a' their creesbie duds,
And a' Kilmarnock's sowen suds ?
We'll wauk their hides, and fyle their fuds,

And bring the Stuarts back again.

*“ I enclose you,” says Burns to Mr Thomson, (Correspondence, No. XLII.)" Frazer's set of Fee him, father. When he plays it slow, he makes it, in fact, the language of despair. I shall here give you two stanzas in that style, merely to try if it will be any improvement. Were it possible, in singing, to give it half the pathos which Frazer gives it in playing, it would make an admirable pathetic song: I do not give these verses for any merit they have. I composed them at the time Patie Allan's mother died; that was about the back of midnight ; and by the lee side of a bowl of punch, which had overset every mortal in company, except the hautbois and the muse."

The editor of this work had the pleasure of hearing Mr Frazer play " Fee him, father,” in the exquisite style above described, at his

benefit in the Theatre-Royal, Edinburgh, 1822. After having for many years occupied the station of hautbois-player, in the orchestra of that place of amusement, he died in 1825, with the character of having been the very best performer on this difficult, but beautiful instrument, of his time, in Scotland.

There's Ayr, and Irvine, wi' the rest,
And a' the cronies o' the west;
Lord I sic a scaw'd and scabbit nest,

And they'll set up their crack again !
But wad they come, or daur they come,
Afore the bagpipe and the drum,
We'll either gar them a' sing dumb,

Or - Auld Stuarts back again.”


Give ear unto this loyal sang, ye

that ken the richt frae wrang, And a' that look, and think it lang,

For auld Stuarts back again : Were


wi' me to chase the rae, Out ower the hills and far away, And saw the Lords come there that day,

To bring the Stuarts back again :

There ye might see the noble Mar,
Wi' Athole, Huntly, and Traquair,
Seaforth, Kilsyth, and Auldublair,

And mony mae, what reck, again. Then what are a' their westlin' crews ? We'll


the tailors tack again : Can they forstand the tartan trews,

And • Auld Stuarts back again !"



TUNE. She rose and let me in.

The night her silent sable wore,

And gloomy were the skies ;
Of glitt’ring stars appear'd no more

Than those in Nelly's eyes.
When to her father's door I came,

Where I had often been,
I begg'd my fair, my lovely dame,

To rise and let me in.

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