My blue bonnet abune my bree, It's nae the battle's deadly stoure, Nor friends proved false, that'll gar me cower; O, that alane can danton me. O, I hae scarce to lay me on, Of kingly fields were ance my ain, ROSLIN CASTLE. HEWIT. TUNE-Roslin Castle. "TWAS in that season of the year, Of Nannie's charms the shepherd sung: Awake, sweet Muse! The breathing spring In sweetest smiles herself adorn, O look, my love! on every spray Oh, come, my love! Thy Colin's lay And charm this ravish'd heart of mine! * LUCY'S FLITTIN'.+ WILLIAM LAIDLAW. 'TWAS when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in', And Martinmas dowie had wound up the year, That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in't, And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear: For Lucy had served in the Glen a' the simmer; She cam there afore the flower blumed on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been kind till her, Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her ee. * Richard Hewit, the author of this song, was employed by the blind poet Blacklock to act as his leader or guide during his residence in Cumberland; and for some years afterwards he served him as his amanuensis. I have not been able to perceive the song in any older collection than that of Herd, 1776. The air was composed by Oswald, about the beginning of the eighteenth century. It is a somewhat remarkable circumstance regarding this exquisitely pathetic and beautiful little poem, that its author has written hardly any other thing of any description. She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stannin'; Oh, what is't that pits my puir heart in a flutter? Then what gars me wish ony better to be? Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee. Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me; Yestreen, when he gae me't, and saw I was sabbin', I'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Though now he said naething but Fare ye weel, Lucy! It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see: He could nae say mair but just, Fare ye weel, Lucy! Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee. The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when its droukit; The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea: But Lucy likes Jamie ;-she turn'd and she lookit, She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless! And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return! THE JOLLIE BEGGAR. SUPPOSED TO BE BY KING JAMES V. TUNE-The jollie beggar. THERE was a jollie beggar, and a beggin' he was boun', And he took up his quarters into a landwart toun. And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin', a-rovin' in the nicht, And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin', boys, let the moon shine ne'er sae bricht: And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin'. He wad neither lie in barn, nor yet wad he in byre, The beggar's bed was made at e'en wi' gude clean strae and hay, And in ahint the ha' door, and there the beggar lay. Up rose the gude man's dochter, and for to bar the door; And there she saw the beggar, standin' i' the floor. He took the lassie in his arms, and to the bed he ran ; O, hoolie, hoolie, wi' me, sir; ye'll wauken our gude man. The beggar was a cunnin' loon, and ne'er a word he spak, Until the cock began to craw; syne he began to crack. Is there ony dowgs into this toun ? maiden, tell me true. And what wad ye do wi' them, my hinnie and my dow? They'll ryve a' my meal-pocks, and do me mickle wrang. Oh, dule for the dooin' o't! are ye the puir man? Then she took up the meal-pocks, and flang them ower the wa'; The deil gae wi' the meal-pocks, my maidenhead, and a'! I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Laird o' Brodie ; Oh, dule for the doin' o't! are ye the puir bodie? He took the lassie in his arms, and gae her kisses three, And four-and-twenty hunder merks, to pay the nourice fee. He took a horn frae his side, and blew baith loud and shrill, And four-and-twenty beltit knichts came skippin' ower the hill. And he took out his little knife, loot a' his duddies fa', And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a'. The beggar was a clever loun, and he lap shouther-hicht, And, aye for siccan quarters as I gat yesternicht! And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin', a-rovin' in the nicht, And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin', boys, let the moon shine ne'er sae bricht: And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin'.* THE GABERLUNYIE MAN. SUPPOSED TO BE BY KING JAMES V. TUNE-The Gaberlunyie man. THE pawky auld carle cam ower the lee, *From Herd's Collection, 1776. |