Gie me a lass baith clean and tight,
To dance the reel o' Bogie.
In cotillons the French excel,
John Bull loves country-dances;
The Spaniards dance fandangos well,
Mynheer an all❜mand prances:
In foursome reels the Scots delight,
At threesomes they dance wondrous light,
But twasomes ding a' out o' sight,
Danced to the reel o' Bogie.
Come, lads, and view your partners weel, Wale each a blithesome rogie:
I'll tak' this lassie to mysell,
She looks sae keen and vogie.
Now, piper lad, bang up the spring;
The country fashion is the thing,
pree their mou's, ere we begin
To dance the reel o' Bogie.
Now ilka lad has got a lass,
Save yon auld doited fogie,
And ta'en a fling upon the grass,
As they do in Strabogie.
But a' the lasses look sae fain,
We canna think oursells to hain;
For they maun hae their come-again,
To dance the reel o' Bogie.
Now a' the lads hae done their best,
Like true men o' Strabogie;
We'll stop a while and tak' a rest,
And tipple out a cogie.
Come now, my lads, and take your glass,
And try ilk other to surpass
In wishing health to every lass,
To dance the reel o' Bogie.*
As I cam' by Loch-Erroch side,
The lofty hills surveying,
The water clear, the heather blooms,
Their fragrance sweet conveying ;
I met, unsought, my lovely maid,
I found her like May morning;
With graces sweet, and charms so rare,
Her person all adorning.
How kind her looks, how blest was I,
While in my arms I prest her!
And she her wishes scarce conceal'd,
As fondly I caress'd her:
She said, If that your heart be true,
If constantly you'll love me,
I heed not care nor fortune's frowns,
For nought but death shall move me.
But faithful, loving, true, and kind,
For ever thou shalt find me ;
And of our meeting here so sweet,
Loch-Erroch sweet shall mind me.
Enraptured then, My lovely lass,
I cried, no more we'll tarry!
* From the Scots Musical Museum, [vol. II. 1788,] where it is stated to be the composition of the D― of G; that is to say, of the Duke of Gordon.
We'll leave the fair Loch-Erroch side,
For lovers soon should marry.*
I'LL MAKE YOU FAIN TO FOLLOW ME.+
TUNE-I'll mak ye be fain to follow me.
As late by a sodger I happen'd to pass,
I heard him courting a bonnie young lass:
My hinnie, my life, my dearest, quo' he,
I'll make you be fain to follow me.
Gin I were to follow a poor sodger lad,
Ilk ane o' our maidens would think I was mad;
For battles I never shall long to see,
Nor shall I be iain to follow thee.
O come wi' me, and I'll make you glad,
Wi' part o' my supper, and part o' my
A kiss by land, and a kiss by sea,
I think ye'll be fain to follow me.
O care or sorrow no sodgers know,
In mirth we march, and in joy we go ;
Frae sweet St Johnston to bonnie Dundee,
Wha wadna be fain to follow me?
What heart but leaps when it lists the fife?
Ilk tuck o' the drum's a lease o' life-
We reign on earth, we rule on sea;
A queen might be fain to follow me.
Her locks were brown, her eyes were blue,
Her looks were blithe, her words were few-
From Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, vol. I. 1787. It is supposed to be the composition of James Tytler, the author of "The Bonnie Brucket Lassie."
As altered and enlarged by Mr Cunningham, (Songs of Scotland, II. 340.) The original song is in the Musical Museum, vol. III. 1790.
The lads o' Dumfries stood staring dumb, When sweet Jenny Primrose follow'd the drum.
TUNE-The Siller Croun.
AND ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller hae to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh, wha wad buy a silken goun,
Wi' a puir broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller croun,
Gin frae my love I part?
The mind whase every wish is pure,
Far dearer is to me;
And ere I'm forced to break my faith,
I'll lay me doun and dee;
For I hae pledged my virgin troth,
Brave Donald's fate to share,
And he has gi'en to me his heart,
Wi' a' its virtues rare.
His gentle manners wan my heart,
He gratefu' took the gift;
Could I but think to seek it back,
It wad be waur than theft.
For langest life can ne'er repay
The love he bears to me;
And ere I'm forced to break my troth,
I'll lay me doun and dee.*
*From the Scots Musical Museum, vol. III. 1790.
O MARY, YE'SE BE CLAD IN SILK.
O MARY, ye'se be clad in silk,
And diamonds in your hair,
Gin ye'll consent to be my bride,
Nor think on Arthur mair.
Oh, wha wad wear a silken goun,
Wi' tears blindin' their ee?
Before I break my true love's chain,
I'll lay me down and dee.
For I have pledged my virgin troth,
Brave Arthur's fate to share ;
And he has gi'en to me his heart,
Wi' a' its virtues rare.
The mind whase every wish is pure,
Far dearer is to me;
And, ere I'm forced to break my faith,
I'll lay me down and dee.
So trust me, when I swear to thee
By a' that is on high;
Though ye
had a' this warld's gear,
My heart ye couldna buy;
For langest life can ne'er repay
The love he bears to me;
And ere I'm forced to break my faith,
I'll lay me down and dee.*
* An imitation of the preceding song, from Laurie and Symington's Collection, 1792.
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