THE BONNIE LASS MADE THE BED TO ME.

"THE Bonnie Lass made the Bed to me," was composed on an amour of Charles II. when skulking in the North, about Aberdeen, in the time of the usurpation. He formed une petite affaire with a daughter of the house of Portletham, who was the "lass that made the bed to him:"-two verses of it are,

"I kiss'd her lips sae rosy red,

While the tear stood blinkin in her e’e;
I said, My lassie, dinna cry,

For ye ay shall make the bed to me.

She took her mither's holland sheets,
And made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,

The lass that made the bed to me."

ABSENCE.

A SONG in the manner of Shenstone.
This song and air are both by Dr. Blacklock.

merchant, and now schoolmaster in Irvine. He is the Davie to whom I address my printed poetical epistle in the measure of the Cherry and the Slae.

AULD ROB MORRIS.

Ir is remark-worthy that the song of "Holy and Fairly," in all the old editions of it, is called "The Drunken Wife o' Galloway," which localizes it to that country.

RATTLIN, ROARIN WILLIE.

THE last stanza of this song is mine; it was composed out of compliment to one of the worthiest fellows in the world, William Dunbar, Esq., writer to the signet, Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan Corps, a club of wits who took that title at the time of raising the fencible regiments.

I HAD A HORSE AND I HAD NAE MAIR.

THIS story is founded on fact. A John Hunter, ancestor to a very respectable farming family, who live in a place in the parish, I think, of Galston, called Bar-mill, was the luckless hero that "had a horse and had nae mair." For some little youthful follies he found it necessary to make a retreat to the West-Highlands, where "he feed himself to a Highland Laird," for that is the expression of all the oral editions of the song I ever heard. The present Mr. Hunter, who told me the anecdote, is the great-grandchild of our hero.

WHERE BRAVING ANGRY WINTER STORMS.

THIS Song I composed on one of the most accomplished of women, Miss Peggy Chalmers, that was, now Mrs. Lewis Hay, of Forbes and Co.'s bank, Edinburgh.

TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY. THIS Song I composed about the age of seven teen.

NANCY'S GHOST.

THIS song is by Dr. Blacklock.

UP AND WARN A' WILLIE.

THIS edition of the song I got from Tom Niel, of facetious fame, in Edinburgh. The expression"Up and warn a' Willie," alludes to the Crantara, or warning of a Highland clan to arms. Not understanding this, the Lowlanders in the west and south say, "Up and waur them a'," &c.

A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.

THIS song I composed on Miss Jenny Cruikshank, only child of my worthy friend Mr. William Cruikshank, of the High-School, Edinburgh. This air is by a David Sillar, quondam

TUNE YOUR FIDDLES, ETC.

THIS Song was composed by the Rev. John Skinner, nonjuror clergyman at Linshart, near Peterhead. He is likewise author of "Tulloch"Ewie wi' the crooked Horn," "John gorum,' o' Badenyond," &c., and what is of still more consequence, he is one of the worthiest of mankind. He is the author of an ecclesiastical history of Scotland. The air is by Mr. Marshall, butler to the Duke of Gordon; the first composer of strathspeys of the age. I have been told by somebody, who had it of Marshall him self, that he took the idea of his three most celebrated pieces, "The Marquis of Huntley's

Reel," his "Farewell," and "Miss Admiral Gordon's Reel," from the old air, "The German Lairdie."

has often told me that he composed this song one day when his wife had been fretting o'er their misfortunes.

GILL MORICE.

In

THIS plaintive ballad ought to have been called Child Maurice, and not Gil Maurice. its present dress, it has gained immortal honour from Mr. Home's taking from it the groundwork of his fine tragedy of Douglas. But I am of opinion that the present ballad is a modern composition; perhaps not much above the age of the middle of the last century; at least I should be glad to see or hear of a copy of the present words prior to 1650. That it was taken from an old ballad, called "Child Maurice," now lost, I am inclined to believe; but the present one may be classed with "Hardyknute," | "Kenneth," "Duncan, the Laird of Woodhouselie," "Lord Livingston," Binnorie," "The Death of Monteith," and many other modern productions, which have been swallowed by many readers as ancient fragments of old poems. This beautiful plaintive tune was composed by Mr. M'Gibbon, the selector of a collection of Scots tunes. R. B.

MY HARRY WAS A GALLANT GAY.
Tune-"Highlander's Lament."

THE oldest title I ever heard to this air, was, "The Highland Watch's Farewell to Ireland." The chorus I picked up from an old woman in Dumblane; the rest of the song is mine.

THE HIGHLAND CHARACTER. THIS tune was the composition of Gen. Reid, and called by him "The Highland, or 42d Regiment's March." The words are by Sir Harry Erskine.

LEADER-HAUGHS AND YARROW.

THERE is in several collections, the old song of "Leader-Haughs and Yarrow." It seems to have been the work of one of our itinerant minstrels, as he calls himself, at the conclusion of his song, "Minstrel Burn."

THE TAILOR FELL THRO' THE BED,
THIMBLE AN' A’.

THIS air is the march of the corporation of tailors. The second and fourth stanzas are mine.

BEWARE O' BONNIE ANN.

I COMPOSED this song out of compliment to Miss Ann Masterton, the daughter of my friend Allan Masterton, the author of the air of Strathallan's Lament, and two or three others in this work.

THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOUSE. THE first half stanza is old, the rest is Ram say's. The old words are—

"This is no mine ain house,

My ain house, my ain house;
This is no mine ain house,
I ken by the biggin o't.

Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
My door-cheeks, my door-cheeks;
Bread and cheese are my door-cheeks,
And pancakes the riggin o't.

THE GABERLUNZIE MAN.

THE "Gaberlunzie Man" is supposed to commemorate an intrigue of James the Fifth. Mr. Callander, of Craigforth, published some years ago an edition of "Christ's Kirk on the Green," and the "Gaberlunzie Man," with notes critical and historical. James the Fifth is said to have been fond of Gosford, in Aberlady parish, and that it was suspected by his contemporaries, that in his frequent excursions to that part of the country, he had other purposes in view besides golfing and archery. Three favourite ladies, Sandilands, Weir, and Oliphant (one of them resided at Gosford, and the others in the neighbourhood), were occasionally visited by their royal and gallant admirer, which gave rise to the following advice to his majesty, from Sir David Lindsay, of the Mount, Lord Lyon.

'Sow not your seed on Sandylands,
nend not your strength in Weir,

I LOVE MY JEAN.

THIS air is by Marshall; the song I composed out of compliment to Mrs. Burns.

N. B. It was during the honeymoon.

CEASE, CEASE, MY DEAR FRIEND, TO
EXPLORE.

THE song is by Dr. Blacklock; I believe, but am not quite certain, that the air is his too.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

THIS air was formerly called, "The bridegroom greets when the sun gangs down." The words are by Lady Ann Lindsay, of the Bal carras family.

DONALD AND FLORA.

THIS is one of those fine Gaelic tunes, preserved from time immemorial in the Hebrides; they seem to be the ground-work of many of our finest Scots pastoral tunes. The words of this song were written to commemorate the unfortunate expedition of General Burgoyne in America, in 1777.

O WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL. THIS air is Oswald's; the song I made out of compliment to Mrs. Burns.

THE CAPTIVE ROBIN.

THIS air is called "Robie donna Gorach."

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY. THIS air is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it his lament for his brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old; the rest mine.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. The first half-stanza of this song is old; the rest is mine.

CA' THE EWES AND THE KNOWES. THIS beautiful song is in true old Scotch taste, yet I do not know that either air or words were in print before.

For bridal days are merry times,

And young folks like the coming o't, And scribblers they bang up their rhymes, And pipers they the bumming o't.

The lasses like a bridal o't,

The lasses like a bridal o't,
Their braws maun be in rank and file,
Altho' that they should guide ill o't:
The boddom o' the kist is then

Turn'd up into the inmost o't,
The end that held the kecks sae clean,
Is now become the teemest o't.

The bangster at the threshing o't,
The bangster at the threshing o't,
Afore it comes is fidgin-fain,

And ilka day's a clashing o't:
He'll sell his jerkin for a groat,
His linder for anither o't,
And e'er he want to clear his shot,
His sark'll pay the tither o't

The pipers and the fiddlers o't,
The pipers and the fiddlers o't,
Can smell a bridal unco' far,

And like to be the middlers o't;
Fan thick and threefold they convene,
Ilk ane envies the tither o't,
And wishes nane but him alane
May ever see anither o't.

Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
Fan they hae done wi' eating o't,
For dancing they gae to the green,
And aiblins to the beating o't:
He dances best that dances fast,

4

And loups at ilka reesing o't, And claps his hands frae hough to hough, And furls about the feezings o't."

TODLEN HAME.

THIS is perhaps the first bottle song that ever was composed.

THE BRIDAL O’T.

THIS song is the work of a Mr. Alexander Ross, late schoolmaster at Lochlee; and author of a beautiful Scots poem, called "The Fortunate Shepherdess."

"They say that Jockey 'll speed weel o't, They say that Jockey 'll speed weel o't, For he grows brawer ilka day,

I hope we'll hae a bridal o't:
For yesternight nae farder gane,
The backhouse at the side wa' o't,
He there wi' Meg was mirden seen,
I hope we'll hae a bridal o't.

An' we had but a bridal o't,

An' we had but a bridal o't,
We'd leave the rest unto gude luck,
Altho' there should betide ill o't:

THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE. THIS air is the composition of my friend Allan Masterton, in Edinburgh. I composed the verses on the amiable and excellent family of Whitefoords leaving Ballochmyle, when Sir John's misfortunes had obliged him to sell the estate.

THE RANTIN' DOG, THE DADDIE O'T. I COMPOSED this song pretty early in life, and sent it to a young girl, a very particular acquaintance of mine, who was at that time under a cloud.

1 Fan, when the dialect of Angus.

THE SHEPHERD'S PREFERENCE. THIS song is Dr. Blacklock's.-I don't know how it came by the name, but the oldest appellation of the air was, "Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad."

It has little affinity to the tune commonly known by that name.

THE BONIE BANKS OF AYR.

I COMPOSED this song as I conveyed my chest so far on the road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica.

I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land.

JOHN O' BADENYON.

THIS excellent song is the composition of my worthy friend, old Skinner, at Linshart.

"When first I cam to be a man

Of twenty years or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth,
And fain the world would know;

In best attire I stept abroad,

With spirits brisk and gay,

And here and there and everywhere,

Was like a morn in May;

No care had I nor fear of want,

But rambled up and down,

And for a beau I might have pass'd

In country or in town;

I still was pleas'd where'er I went,
And when I was alone,

I tun'd my pipe and pleas'd myself
Wi' John o' Badenyon.

Now in the days of youthful prime
A mistress I must find,

For love, I heard, gave one an air
And ev❜n improved the mind:
On Phillis fair above the rest
Kind fortune fixt my eyes,

Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
And she became my choice;

To Cupid now with hearty prayer

I offer'd many a vow;

And danc'd, and sung, and sigh'd, and swore,

As other lovers do;

But, when at last I breath'd my flame,

I found her cold as stone;

I left the jilt, and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.

When love had thus my heart beguil'd

With foolish hopes and vain,

To friendship's port I steer'd my course, And laugh'd at lover's pain

A friend I got by lucky chance
'Twas something like divine,

An honest friend's a precious gift,
And such a gift was mine:

And now, whatever might betide,

A happy man was I,

In any strait I knew to whom
I freely might apply;

A strait soon came: my friend I try'd;
He heard, and spurn'd my moan;

I hy'd me home, and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.

Methought I should be wiser next,
And would a patriot turn,
Began to doat on Johnny Wilks,

And cry up Parson Horne.
Their manly spirit I admir'd,

And prais'd their noble zeal,
Who had with flaming tongue and pen
Maintain'd the public weal;

But e'er a month or two had past,
I found myself betray'd,
"Twas self and party after all,
For a' the stir they made;

At last I saw the factious knaves
Insult the very throne,

I curs'd them a', and tun'd my pipe
To John o' Badenyon."

A WAUKRIFE MINNIE.

I PICKED up this old song and tune from a country girl in Nithsdale.-I never met with it elsewhere in Scotland.

"Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass,
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie,

She answer'd me right saucilie,

An errand for my minnie.

O whare live ye, my bonie lass,
O whare live ye, my hinnie,
By yon burn-side, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi' my minnie.

But I foor up the glen at e'en,

To see my bonie lassie;
And lang before the gray morn cam,
She was na hauf sa sacie.

O weary fa' the waukrife cock,
And the foumart lay his crawin!
He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep,

A wee blink or the dawin.

An angry wife I wat she raise,

And o'er the bed she brought her;

And wi' a mickle hazle rung

She made her a weel pay'd dochter.

O fare thee weel, my bonie lass!

O fare thee weel, my hinnie! Thou art a gay and a bonie lass, But thou hast a waukrife minnie."

TULLOCHGORUM.

THIS first of songs, is the master-piece of my

old friend Skinner. He was passing the day,