To hear them o' their travels talk,

Το

Igo and ago;

gae to London's but a walk,
Sing irom, igon, ago.

To see the wonders o' the deep,
Igo and ago,

Wad gar a man baith wail and weep,
Sing irom, igon, ago.

To see the leviathan skip,
Igo and ago,

And wi' his tail ding ower a ship,
Sing irom, igon, ago.

MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE, O.

GALL.*

TUNE-My only jo and dearie, O.

THY cheek is o' the rose's hue,
My only jo and dearie, O;
Thy neck is o' the siller dew,
Upon the bank sae briery, O.
Thy teeth are o' the ivory,

O sweet's the twinkle o' thine ee:
Nae joy, nae pleasure blinks on me,
My only jo and dearie, O.

The birdie sings upon the thorn
Its sang o' joy, fu' cheery, O;
Rejoicing in the simmer morn,

Nae care to make it eerie, O.

* Richard Gall, the son of a dealer in old furniture in St Mary's Wynd, Edinburgh, was brought up to the business of a printer, and died, at an early age, about the beginning of the present century.

Ah, little kens the sangster sweet, Aught o' the care I hae to meet, restless bosom beat,

That gars my

My only jo and dearie, O!

When we were bairnies on yon brae,
And youth was blinkin' bonnie, O,
Aft we wad daff the lee lang day,
Our joys fu' sweet and monie, O.
Aft I wad chase thee ower the lee,
And round about the thorny tree;
Or pu' the wild flow'rs a' for thee,
My only jo and dearie, O.

I hae a wish I canna tine,

'Mang a' the cares that grieve me, O ; A wish that thou wert ever mine,

And never mair to leave me, O;
Then I wad daut thee nicht and day,
Nae ither warldly care I'd hae,
Till life's warm stream forgat to play,
My only jo and dearie, O.

TARRY WOO, tarry woo,

Tarry woo is ill to spin;
Card it weil, card it weil,

Card it weil, ere ye begin,
When it's cardit, row'd, and spun,
Then the wark is haflins done;
But, when woven, dress'd, and clean,
It may be cleadin for a queen.

Sing my bonnie harmless sheep,
That feed upon the mountains steep,

Bleating sweetly, as ye go
Through the winter's frost and snow.
Hart, and hynd, and fallow-deer,
No by half sae useful are :

Frae kings, to him that hauds the plou',
All are obliged to tarry woo.

Up, ye shepherds, dance and skip;
Ower the hills and valleys trip;
Sing up the praise of tarry woo;
Sing the flocks that bear it too :
Harmless creatures, without blame,
That clead the back, and cram the wame;
Keep us warm and hearty fou-
Leeze me on the tarry woo!

How happy is the shepherd's life,
Far frae courts and free of strife!
While the gimmers bleat and bae,
And the lambkins answer mae;
No such music to his ear!
Of thief or fox he has no fear:
Sturdy kent, and collie true,
Weil defend the tarry woo.

He lives content, and envies none :
Not even a monarch on his throne,
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.*

From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

THE LASS O' PATIE'S MILL.*

RAMSAY.

TUNE-The Lass o' Fatic's Mill.

THE lass o' Patie's Mill,

Sae bonnie, blythe, and gay,
In spite of a' my skill,

She stole my heart away.
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 grace the wild,
She did her sweets impart,
Whene'er she spak or smil'd:
Her looks they were so mild,
Free from affected pride,
She me to love beguil'd;

I wish'd her for my bride.

Oh! had I a' the wealth

Hopetoun's high mountains fill,

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.

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.

THE YELLOW-HAIR'D LADDIE.

[OLD VERSES.]

TUNE-The yellow-hair'd Laddie.

THE yellow-hair'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 aye 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:
Oh, 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, 1724.