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say's tea-table, where the modern song first appeared, the ancient name of the tune, Allan says, is Allan Water, or My love Annie's very bonnie. This last has certainly been a line of the original song ; so I took up the idea, and as you will see, have introduced the line in its place, which I presume it formerly occupied; though I likeI wise give you a chusing line, if it should not hit the cut of your fancy.

*

By Allan-stream I chanc'd to rove,

While Phæbus sank beyond Benleddi ; *.
The winds were whispering thro' the grove,

The yellow corn was waving ready:
I listen'd to a lover's sang,

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony;
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang-

O dearly do I love thee, Annie!t

O happy be the woodbine bower,

Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,

The place and time I met my dearie !

Her

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* A mountain west of Strath-Allan, 3,009 feet high. R. B.

+ Or, O my love Annie's very bonnie.' ' R. B.

Her head upon my throbbing breast,

She, sinking said, « I'm thine for ever!" While mony, a kiss the seal imprest,

The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever.

The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae,

The simmer joys the flocks to follow; How cheery thro' her shortening day,

Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow! But can they melt the glowing heart,

Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure, Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,

Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure ?

Bravo ! say I : it is a good song. Should you think so too (not else), you can set the music to it, and

d let the other follow as English verses.

I make

Autumn is my propitious season. more verses in it than all the year else.

God bless you!

No. No. XXXV.

MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON.

August, 1793. Is Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad, one of your airs? I admire it much; and yesterday I set the following verses to it. Urbani, whom I have met with here, begged them of me, as he admires the air much; but as I understand that he looks with rather an evil eye on your work, I did not choose to comply. However, if the song does not suit your taste, I may possibly send it him. The set of the air which I had in my eye is in Johnson's Museum.

O WHISTLE, and I'll come to you, my lad, * O whistle, and I'll come to you, my

lad:

Tho'

* In some of the MSS the four first lines run thus:

O whistle, and I'll come to thee, my jo,
O whistle, and I'll come to thee, my jo;
Tho' father and mother and a' should say no,
O whistle, and I'll come to thee, myjo.

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Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.

But warily tent, when you come to court me,
And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-stile and let nae body see,
And come as ye were na comin to me.
And come, &c.

O.whistle, 8c.

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were na lookin at me.
Yet look, &c.

O whistle, &c.

Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But court nae anither, tho' jokin ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
For fear, &c.

O whistle, &c.

Another favourite air of mine is The muckin o' Geordie's Byre; when sung slow with expression, I have wished that it had had better poetry: that I have endeavoured to supply as follows:

Adown

Adown winding Nith I did wander,

To mark the sweet flowers as they spring i Adown winding Nith I did wander,

Of Phillis to muse and to sing.

CHORUS.

Awa wi'

your belles and your beauties, They never wi' her can compare : Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,

Has met wi" the queen o' the fair.

The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,

So artless, so simple, so wild; Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis ! For she is simplicity's child.

Awa, &c.

The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,

Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest :
How fair and how pure is the lily,
But fairer and purer her breast.

Aωα, &c.

Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,

They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie: :
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond, her eye.

Awa, &c.

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