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Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left

me ever.

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left,

me ever.

Aften hast thou vow'd that death, Only should

us sever. Now thou'st left thy lass for ay-I maun see thee

never, Jamie, I'll see thee never.*

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me

forsaken, Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me

forsaken. Thou canst love anither jo, While my heart is

breaking: Soon my weary een I'll close-Never mair to

waken, Jamie, Ne'er mair to waken.

Jockie

* The Scottish (the Editor uses the word substantively, as the English) employ the abbreviation I'll for I shull as well as I will; and it is for I shall it is used here. In Annandale, as in the northern counties of England, for I shall they use I'se.

E. + This is the whole of the song. The bard never proceeded farther. Note by Mr. Thomson.

Jockie and Jenny I would discard, and in its place would put There's nae luck about the house, which has a very pleasant air, and which is

positively the finest love-ballad in that style in the Scottish, or perhaps in any other language. When she came ben she bobbet, as an air, is more beautiful than either, and in the andante way would unite with a charming sentimental ballad,

Saw ye my Father ? is one of my greatest favourites. The evening before last, I wandered out, and began a tender song ; in what I think is its native style. I must premise, that the old way, and the way to give most effect, is to have no starting note, as the fiddlers call it, but to burst at once into the pathos. Every country girl sings—Saw ye my father? &c.

My song is but just begun; and I should like, before I proceed, to know your opinion of it. I I have sprinkled it with the Scottish dialect, but it may be easily turned into correct English.*

Todlin

* This song appears afterwards. It begins, * Where are the joys I hae met in the morning.” E.

Todlin hame. Urbani mentioned an idea of his, which has long been mine; that this air is highly susceptible of pathos : accordingly, you will soon hear him at your concert try it to a song of mine in the Museum ; Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon. One song more and I have done: Auld lang syne. The air is but mediocre; but the following song, the old song of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript, until I took it down from an old man's singing, is enough to recommend

any air.

AULD LANG SYNE.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o' lang syne?

CHORUS.

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.

We

We twa hae run about the braes,

And pu't the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot,
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

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We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,

Frae mornin sun till dine:
But seas between us braid hae roard,
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

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And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine ;
And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught,
For auld lang sine.

For auld, &c.

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And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,

And surely l'll be mine;
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.*

For auld, &c.

*

Now

* This song, of the olden time, is excellent. It is

, Worthy of our bard.

E.

Now, I
suppose

I have tired your patience fairly. You must, after all is over, have a number of ballads, properly so called. Gill Morice, Tranent Muir, M Pherson's Farewell, Battle of Sheriff Muir, or We ran and they ran (I know the author of this charming ballad, and his history), Hardiknute, Barbara Allan (I can furnish a finer set of this tune than any that has yet appeared), and besides, do you know that I really have the old tune to which The Cherry and the Slae was sung ; and which is mentioned as a well known air in Scotland's Complaint, a book published before poor Mary's days. It was then called The Banks o' Helicon ; an old poem which Pinkerton has brought to light. You will see all this in Tytler's history of Scottish music. The tune, to a learned ear, may have no great merit: but it is a great curiosity. I have a good many original things of this kind.

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