O WHA WILL TO SAINT STEPHEN'S HOUSE.* Tune-"Killicrankie." O WHA will to Saint Stephen's house, Come, will ye court a noble lord, For worth and honour pawn their word, Anbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste, "The occasion of this ballad was as follows:-When Mr Cunninghame of Enterkin came to his estate, two mansion-houses on it-Enterkin and Annbank-were both in a ruinous state. Wishing to introduce himself with some eclat to the country, he got temporary erections made on the banks of Ayr, tastefully decorated with shrubs and flowers, for a supper and ball, to which most of the respectable families in the county were invited. It was a novelty in the county, and attracted much notice. A dissolution of parliament was soon expected, and the festivity was thought to be an introduction to a canvass for representing the county. Several other candidates were spoken of, particularly Sir John Whitefoord, then residing at Cloncaird, commonly pronounced Glencaird, and Mr Boswell, the well known biographer of Dr Johnson. The political views of the festive assemblage which are alluded to in the ballad, if they ever existed, were however laid aside, as Mr C. did not canvass the county."-Gilbert Burns. When love and beauty heard the news, Sir Politics to fetter, As theirs alone, the patent-bliss, To hold a Fête Champetre. Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome wing, Cauld Boreas, wi' his boisterous crew, And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu', Clamb up the starry sky, man; How many a robe sae gaily floats! What sparkling jewels glance, man! To Harmony's enchanting notes, When Politics came there, to mix And make his ether-stane, man! He circled round the magic ground, Wi' humble prayer to join and share THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT. OH! I am come to the low countrie, Och-on, och-on, och-rie! It was nae sae in the Highland hills, Nae woman in the countrie wide For then I had a score o' kye, Och-on, och-on, och-rie! And there I had three score o' yowes, I was the happiest of a' the clan, And Donald he was mine. I do not know on what authority Mr Cunningham assigns this Jacobite song to Burns; for we have heard old ladies sing it, who remember its existence anterior to the poet's time.-M. THERE WAS A BONNIE LASS. THERE was a bonnie lass, And a bonnie, bonnie lass, And she lo'ed her bonnie laddie dear; Till war's loud alarms Tore her laddie frae her arms, Wi' mony a sigh and a tear. Over sea, over shore, Where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear : And nocht could him quell, Or his bosom assail, But the bonnie lass he lo'ed sae dear. O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET O MALLY'S meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete. As I was walking up the street, A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet; But O the road was very hard For that fair maiden's tender feet. It were mair meet that those fine feet Her yellow hair, beyond compare, Comes trinkling down her swan white neck; |