of, or allusive to, a game formerly beloved by royal personages; because, in the park around the palatial castle of Stirling, there is a little mound, called to this day the King's Note, which tradition reports to have been the scene of some sport formerly practised by the Scottish monarchs, and which really bears external marks of some such purpose, being of a regularly angular shape, and surrounded with mounds like benches, that seem to have been calculated for the accommodation of spectators.

The lange noune nou. This perhaps is the same Ichorus which the reader will find attached to the old rude song of "the Queen of Sluts," in the present Collection.

I married a wife, and I brocht her hame;

Sing niddle, sing noddle, sing noo noo noo!
I set her i' the neuk, and I ca'd her dame;

Sing ben willie wallets, sing niddle, sing noddle,
Sing niddle, sing noddle, sing noo noo noo!

The Cheapel valk was probably the same poem with one which Lord Hailes, in his "Ancient Scottish Poems from the Bannatyne Manuscript," entitled "The Abbay walk." The Abbey walk was by Robert Henrysone, [a cadet of the ancient baronial family of Henderson of Fordel, in Fife, who, in the reign of James II., (1460-88,) was a schoolmaster at Dunfermline, and who may well be classed among the mighty fathers of Scottish poetry.] It is a moral poem, and seems to have got its title simply because the reflections of which it consists were made in a walk through an abbey. The first verse is as follows:

Allone as I went up and doun,
In ane abbay was fair to see,
Thinkand what consolatioun
Was best into adversitie;
On caiss I kuist on syde myne ee,
And saw this written upon a wall,
Of what estait, man, that thou be,
Obey, and thank thy God of all.

Skald a bellis nou, and The Abirdenis nou, were probably variations, local or otherwise, of The lange noune nou. It is worth mentioning, by the way, that there is a popular song, (never in print,) which is stuffed full of a recurring chorus somewhat like the following:

And I long to get married,

For the tid's come ower me noo, noo, noo,
For the tid's come ower me noo.

The tid is the inclination, or humour. Brume brume on hil. This song is mentioned by Laneham, in his Account of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenilworth, 1575, as part of the literary collection of Captain Cox, the mason of Coventry; and Mr Ritson cites, from an old morality, the following lines:

Brome brome on hill,

The gentle brome on hill hill;
Brome brome on Hiue hill,
The gentle brome on Hiue hill;

The brome stands on Hiue hill.

Trolee lolee lemmendou. As stated in the notes here appended to the ballad of " the Marchioness of Douglas," troly loly is an old chorus, and probably the original of the modern " Tol de rol lol," which is so conspicuous in Pan's song in " Midas.' It has been already noticed, that Trolly Lolly is the name of an air mentioned in Cockelby's Sow.

Bille vil thou cum by a lute and belt thee in Sanct Francis cord. We are informed by Mr Leyden, that, in the Manuscript Cantus belonging to the late Mr Archibald Constable, two lines of this song are introduced into a medley.

Billie, will ye come by a lute,

And tuick it with your pin, trow low.

The frog cam to the myl dur. Mr Warton, in his

History of English Poetry, tells us that a ballad entitled "A most strange weddinge of the frogge and the mouse," was licensed by the Stationers to E. White, November 21, 1580. Perhaps the following ditty, taken down from recitation by Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and published by him in his " Ballad Book," 1824, may be the same.

There lived a puddy in a well,
And a merry mouse in a mill.

Puddy he'd a wooin ride,
Sword and pistol by his side.

Puddy cam to the mouse's wonne,
"Mistress mouse, are you within ?"

"Yes, kind sir, I am within;
Saftly do I sit and spin."

"Madame, I am come to woo,
Marriage I must have of you."

"Marriage I will grant you nane,
Until uncle Rotten he comes hame.'

"Uncle Rotten's now come hame;
Fye! gar busk the bride alang."

Lord Rotten sat at the head o' the table,
Because he was baith stout and able.

Wha is't that sits next the wa',
But Lady Mouse, baith jimp and sma'?

What is't that sits next the bride,
But the sola puddy wi' his yellow side?

Syne cam the deuk, but and the drake;
The deuk took puddy, and garred him squaik.

Then cam in the carl cat,

Wi' a fiddle on his back.

"Want ye ony music here ?"

C

The puddy he swam doun the brook ;
The drake he catched him in his fluke.

The cat he pu'd Lord Rotten doun;
The kittens they did claw his croun.

But Lady Mouse, baith jimp and sma',
Crept into a hole beneath the wa';

"Squeak!" quo' she, "I'm weel awa!"

By the way, the frog seems to have been a favourite character, and a distinguished figurant, in old popular poetry. There is still to be found in the Scottish nursery a strange legendary tale, sometimes called "The Padda Sang," and sometimes "The Tale o' the Well o' the Warld's End," in which the frog acts as the hero. It is partly in recitative, and partly in verse, and the air to which the poetry is sung is extremely beautiful. I give the following version of it from the recitation of an old nurse in Annandale.

"A poor widow, you see, was once baking bannocks; and she sent her daughter to the well at the warld's end, with a wooden dish, to bring water. When the lassie cam to the well, she fand it dry; but there was a padda (a frog,) that came loup-loup-loupin, and loupit into her dish. Says the padda to the lassie, I'll gie ye plenty o' water, if ye'll be my wife.' The lassie didna like the padda, but she was fain to say she wad take him, just to get the water; and, ye ken, she never thought that the puir brute wad be serious, or wad ever say ony mair about it. Sae she got the water, and took it hame to her mother; and she heard nae mair o' the padda till that nicht, when, as she and her mother were sitting by the fireside, what do they hear but the puir padda at the outside o' the door, singing wi' a' his micht,

'Oh, open the door, my hinnie," my heart,
Oh, open the door, my ain true love;

Honey a very common phrase of endearment among the

Remember the promise that you and I made,
Doun i' the meadow, where we twa met.'

Says the mother, What noise is that at the door, dauchter?' Hout!' says the lassie, it's naething but a filthy padda !'- Open the door,' says the mother, to the puir padda.' Sae the lassie opened the door, and the padda cam loup-loup-loupin in, and sat doun by the ingle-side. Then, out sings he:

6

'Oh, gie me my supper, my hinnie, my heart,
Oh, gie me my supper, my ain true love;
Remember the promise that you and I made,
Doun i' the meadow, where we twa met.'

6

Hout!' quo' the dauchter, wad I gie a supper to a filthy padda? Ou, ay, quo' the mother, gie the puir padda his supper.' Sae the padda got his supper. After that, out he sings again:

'Oh, put me to bed, my hinnie, my heart,
Oh, put me to bed, my ain true love;
Remember the promise that you and I made,
Doun i' the meadow, where we twa met.'

Hout!' quo' the daughter, wad I put a filthy padda to bed?'-' Ou, ay,' says the mother, put the puir padda to his bed.' And sae she pat the padda to his bed. Then out he sang again (for the padda hadna got a' he wanted yet):

'Oh, come to your bed, my hinnie, my heart,
Oh, come to your bed, my ain true love;
Remember the promise that you and I made,
Doun i' the meadow, where we twa met.'

6

Hout!' quo' the dauchter, wad I gang to bed wi' a filthy padda ?'—' Gae 'wa, lassie,' says the mother, 'e'en gang to bed wi' the puir padda.' And sae the lassie did gang to bed wi' the padda. Weel, what

lower orders of the people in Scotland. One of the "twa mareit women," whose tricks are so deftly delineated by Dunbar, says, on one occasion, to her husband,

"My hinny, hald abak, and handle me nocht sair."