Imagens da página

And the barrin' o' our door weil, weil, weil,
And the barrin' o' our door weil.

The wind blew cauld frae south to north,

It blew into the floor;
Says our gudeman to our gudewife,
Get up and bar the door.

And the barrin', &c.

My hand is in my hussyfe skep,

Gudeman, as ye may see;
An it shouldna be barr'd this hunner year,

It's no be barr'd for me.

They made a paction 'tween them twa,

They made it firm and sure,
The first that spak the foremost word

Should rise and bar the door.

Then by there came twa gentlemen,

At twelve o'clock at nicht;
And they could neither see house nor ha',

Nor coal nor candle-licht.

Now whether is this a rich man's house,

Or whether is this a puir ?
But never a word wad ane o' them speak,

For the barrin' o' the door.

And first they ate the white puddins,

And syne they ate the black;
And muckle thocht our gudewife to hersell,

But never a word she spak.

Then said the tane unto the tother,

Hae, man, take ye my knife,
Do tak aff the auld man's beard,

And I'll kiss the gudewife.


But there's nae water in the house,

And what shall we do than?
What ails ye at the puddin' broo,

That boils into the pan ?

O, up then startit our gudeman,

And an angry man was he:
Wad ye kiss my wife before my face,

And scaud me wi' puddin' bree?



and startit our gudewife,
Gi’ed three skips on the floor :
Gudeman, ye've spoken the foremost word,

Get up and bar the door.*


TUNE-Kirk wad let me be.

I was once a weel-tocher'd lass,

My mither left dollars to me;
But now I'm brought to a poor pass,

My step-dame has gart them flee.
My father, he's aften frae bame,

And she plays the deil with his gear ;
She neither has lawtith nor shame,

And keeps the baill house in a steer.

She's barmy-faced, thriftless, and bauld,

And gars me aft fret and repine ;
While hungry, half-naked, and cauld,

I see her destroy what's mine. * From Herd's Collection, 1776. Tradition, as reported in Johnson's Musical Museum, affirms that the “gudeman" of this song was a person of the name of John Blunt, who lived of yore in Crawford Muir. There are two tunes to which it is often sung. One of them is in most of the Collections of Scottish Tunes; the other, though to appearance equally ancient, seems to have been preserved by tradition alone, as we have never seen it in print. A third tune, to which we have heard this song sung, by only one person, an American student, we suspect to have been imported from his own country.

But soon I might hope a revenge,

And soon of my sorrows be free ; My poortith to plenty wad change,

If she were hung up on a tree. :

Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo'd

This bonny lass tenderlie, I'll tak’ thee, sweet may, in thy snood, Gif thou wilt


hame with me. 'Tis only yoursell that I want;

Your kindness is better to me Than a' that your stepmother, scant

Of grace, now has taken frae thee,

I'm but a young farmer, it's true,

And ye are the sprout of a laird ; But I have milk-cattle enow,

And routh of good rucks in my yard. Ye shall have naething to fash ye,

Sax servants shall jouk to thee : Then kilt up thy coats, my lassie,

And gae thy ways hame with me. The maiden her reason employ’d,

Not thinking the offer amiss, Consented, while Ringan, o'erjoy'd,

Received her with mony a kiss. And now she sits blithely singin',

And joking her drunken stepdame, Delighted with her dear Ringan,

That makes her goodwife at hame.*

[ocr errors]

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.


TUNEThe Humble Beggar.
In Scotland there lived a humble beggar ;

He had neither house, nor hauld, nor hame ;
But he was weel liked by ilka body,
And they gae

him sunkets to raux his wame. A neivefou o meal, a handfou o' groats,

A daud o' a bannock, or padding-bree, Cauld parridge, or the lickings of plates,

Wad make him as blythe as a bodie could be.

A humbler bodie, O, never brake bread,

For the fient a bit o' pride had he; He wad hae ta’en his alms in a bicker,

Frae gentle, or semple, or poor bodie.
His wallets afore and ahint did hing,

In as good order as wallets could be.
A lang-kale goolie hung down by his side,

And a muckle nowte-horn to rout on had he.

It happen'd ill, and it happen'd warse,

For it happen'd sae that he did die; And wha wad ye think were at his lyke-wauk,

But lads and lasses of high degree. Some were merry, and some were sad,

And some were as blythe as blythe could be; When

up he started, the gruesome carle I rede ye, good folks, beware o' me!

Out scraich'd Kate, who sat in the nook,

Vow, now, kimmer! and how do ye ? He ca'd her waur than witch and limmer,

And ruggit and tuggit her cockernonie. They howkit his grave in Douket's kirkyard,

Twa ell deep-for I gaed to see But when they were gaun to put him in the yird,

The fient a dead nor dead was he.

They brought him down to Douket's kirkyard;

He gae a dunt, and the boords did flee; And when they gaed to lay him in the grave,

In fell the coffin, and out lap he! He cried, I'm cauld I I'm unco cauld I

Fu’ fast ran they, and fu’ fast ran he; But he was first hame at his ain ingle-side,

And he help'd to drink his ain dredgie.*


Tune-Corn-Rigs are bonnic.
It was upon a Lammas night,

When corn-rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,

I held awa to Annie.
The time flew by wi' tentless heed,

'Till, 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed

To see me through the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,

The moon was shining clearly ;
I set her down, wi' right good-will,

Amang the rigs o' barley.
I ken't her heart was a' my ain ;

I loved her most sincerely ;
I kiss'd her ower and ower again,

Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in


fond embrace ! Her heart was beating rarely

* First published in Herd's Collection, but certainly much more ancient. I have heard it sung by old people who were not likely to have seen Herd's Collection.

« AnteriorContinuar »