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“ Nae hame have I," the minstrel said ;
“ Sad party-strife owerturned my ha'; And, weeping, at the close o life,
I wander through a wreath o' snaw.” “ Wae's me, auld carle ! sad is your tale ;
Your scrip is toom, your claithing thin : Mine's no the hand to steek the door,
When want and wae wad fain be in.”
Wi' tottering step he reached the spence,
Whar sune the ingle bleezed fu' hie:
While the tear stood twinkling in his ee.
But, oh, it was a strain of woe;
And wailed a nation's overthrow.*
LASSIE, LIE NEAR ME.
TUNE.Laddie, lie near me.
LANG hae we parted been,
Lassie, my dearie;
Lassie, lie near me.
The first three and a half stanzas of this poem were published, as a fragment, in Johnson's Musical Museum, Part IV, 1792; having been sent to the editor of that work in an anonymous letter, which bore, however, the Newcastle post-mark. They were at first attribut d to Burns, but were afterwards discovered to be the composition of Williain Pickering, a poor North of England poet, who never wrote any thing else of the least merit. The additional lines have been presented to the editor of this work by their author, Captain Charles Gray, of the Royal Marines, author of the lively drinking song to the tune of " Andro and his Cutty Gun," inserted in another part of this collection.
Thou’rt gane awa, thou’rt gane awa,
Thou’rt gane awa frae me, Mary: Nor friends nor I could mak thee stay;
Thou hast cheated them and me, Mary. Until this hour I never thought
That ought would alter thee, Mary; Thou’rt still the mistress of my heart,
Think what thou wilt of me, Mary.
Whate'er he said or might pretend,
That staw that heart o' thine, Mary,
Or nae sic love as mine, Mary.
Nae selfish thoughts in me, Mary;
No, I loved only thee, Mary.
Though you've been false, yet, while I live,
I'll loe nae maid but thee, Mary.
Let friends forget, as I forgive,
Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary.
Since you've been false to me, Mary ;
Half what I've done for thee, Mary.*
WHEN SHE CAM BEN SHE BOBBIT.
Tune- The Laird o' Cockpen.
O WHEN she cam ben she bobbit fu' law,
And wasna Cockpen richt saucy witha',
O never look doun, my lassie, at a',
Though thou hae nae silk and holland sae sma',
# From Johnson's Musical Museum, Part III, 1790.
+ From Johnson's Musical Museum, Part IV, 1792. There is, however, an earlier and less delicate version in Herd's Collection, 1776. The present was probably improved for Johnson by Burns.
THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING...
TUNE_The Campbells are coming..
The Campbells are coming, O-ho,,O-ho!.
The Campbells are coming, O-ho!
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay;
Upon the Lomonds I lay ;
The Campbells are coming, &c.
Great Argyle he goes before;
The Campbells are coming, O-ho, O-ho!
Their loyal faith and truth to show, With banners rattling in the wind;
The Campbells are coming, O-ho, O-ho 1*
MERRY HAE I BEEN TEETHING A
TUNE-Lord Breadalbane's March.
O MERRY hae I been teething a heckle,
hae I been shapin a spune; * From Johnson's Musical Museum, Part III, 1790 ; where it is insinuated, as an on dit, that it was composed on the imprisonment of Queen Mary in Lochleven Castle. The Lomonds are two well-known hills, overhanging Lochleven to the east, and visible from Edinburgh. The air is the well-known family tune or march of the Clan Campbell.
O merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,
Katie when a' was dune. O a' the lang day I ca' at my bammer,
And a' the lang day I whistle and sing ; A’ the lang nicht I cuddle my kimmer,
And a' the lang nicht as happy's a king.
Bitter in dule I lickit my winnins,
O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave: Blest be the hour she cooled in her linens,
And blythe be the bird that sings over her grave! Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,
And come to my arms, my Katie again! Drucken or sober, here's to thee, Katie !
And blest be the day I did it again ! *
WHISTLE OWER THE LAVE O'T.
TUNE-Whistle ower the lave o't.
FIRST when Maggie was my care,
* From Johnson's Musical Museum, Part III, 1790. The object of this song seems to be a delineation of the light sentiments which a gipsy or tinker may be supposed to entertain on the sacred subject of matrimony. That it is not overcharged, I can attest by an anecdote of a person in a similar rank in society-Gingebreid Ned, who may be remembered by many of my readers as a noted figure at the south-country fairs, from thirty to forty years ago; it being his profession to deal in gingerbread. Ned had been married in his time to no fewer than seven wives, each of whom-at least scandal never asserted the contrary-had died before her successor came upon the carpet. Somebody asked the fellow one day what he thought of himself for having gone through such an immense number of spouses, or what was the chief impression of his mind on the subject. “ Deed, sir," answered the man of gingerbread, " a' that I can say about it, is, that I aye got an auld kist wi' them, and they took away a new ane!" The first chest was that in which they brought their clothes, &c. (called in Scotland their providing :) the second was the coffin which transported them to the grave.