I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfully at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I coudna think it he, 'Till he said, "I'm come back for to marry thee." O sair did we greet, and mickle did we say, I wish I were dead! but I'm no like to die, I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin, For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me. For he ca'd us a Highland mob, And soon he'd slay us a' Willie, At length we rallied on a hill, But when Argyle did view our line, And them in order saw, Willie, Then we to Auchteraider march'd, Now if ye spear wha wan the day, I've tell'd you what I saw, Willie, We baith did fight and baith did beat, And baith did rin awa, Willie. Warn, warn a'; For second-sighted Sandie said, THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL. I FIND the Blythsome Bridal in James Watson's Collection of Scots Poems, printed at Edinburgh in 1706. And there will be Judan Maclawrie, This song has humour and a felicity of expression worthy of Ramsay, with even more than his wonted broadness and sprightly language. The Witty Catalogue of Names, with their Historical Epithets, are done in the true Lowland Scottish taste of an age ago, when every householder was nicknamed either from some prominent part of his character, person, or lands and housen, which he rented. Thus-On "Skape-fitted Rob." "Thrawn-mou'd Rab o' the Dubs." "Roarin Jock i' the Swair." "Slaverin' Simmie o' Todshaw.” "Souple Kate o' Irongray," &c. &c.-Burns. And there will be girn-again Gibbie, And there will be fadges and brachen, And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks, Of flouks that were taken alive. Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dilse, and tangles, Then fy let us all to the bridal, For there will be lilting there; O CAN YE LABOUR LEA, YOUNG THIS song has long been known among the inhabitants of Nithsdale and Galloway, where it is a great favourite. The first verse should be restored to its original state. I FEED a lad at Roodsmass, O canna ye labour lea, young lad, An' up his graith packed he. This old way is the truest, for the terms, Roodmass is the hiring fair, and Hallowmass the first of the half year.-BURNS. I FEED a man at Martinmass, He could nae labour lea. O can ye labour lea, young man, Gae back the gate ye came again, O clappin's gude in Febarwar, O can ye, &c. O kissin is the key of luve, We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale, As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail, As the full-moon in autumn our shields do appear, Minerva would dread to encounter our spear. Such our love, &c. As a storm in the ocean when Boreas blows, Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old In their troops fondly boasted till we did ad vance; But when our claymores they saw us produce, Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce. Such our love, &c. In our realm may the fury of faction long cease, May our councils be wise, and our commerce increase; And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find, That our friends still prove true, and our beauties prove kind. Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws, And teach our late posterity to fight in Freedom's cause, That they like our ancestors bold, &c. I FEED a lad at Roodsmass, Wi' siller pennies three; O canna ye labour lea, young lad, An' up his graith packed he. This old way is the truest, for the terms, Roodmass is the hiring fair, and Hallowmass the first of the half year.-BURNS. I FEED a man at Martinmass, He could nae labour lea. Gae back the gate ye came again, O clappin's gude in Febarwar, O can ye, &c. O kissin is the key of luve, We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale, As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail, As the full-moon in autumn our shields do appear, Minerva would dread to encounter our spear. Such our love, &c. As a storm in the ocean when Boreas blows, Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old In their troops fondly boasted till we did ad vance; But when our claymores they saw us produce, Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce. Such our love, &c. In our realm may the fury of faction long cease, May our councils be wise, and our commerce increase; And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find, That our friends still prove true, and our beauties prove kind. Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws, And teach our late posterity to fight in Freedom's cause, That they like our ancestors bold, &c. |