SONGS IMPROVED. First shore her wi' a kindly kiss, O steer her up, and be na blate, Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute, Ye'll fin' anither will, jo. 275 threaten scold bashful WEE WILLIE GRAY. Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet, Peel a willow-wand, to be him boots and jacket; Wee Willie Gray and his leather wallet, Twice a lilie flower will be him sark and cravat; Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet, Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet. [Written by Burns in imitation, and to the tune, of an old nursery-song.] AYE MY WIFE SHE DANG ME. TUNE-My Wife she dang me. O aye my wife she dang me, And aft my wife did bang me, If ye gie a woman a' her will, Guid faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. But never honest man's intent Some sa'r o' comfort still at last, When a' my days are done, man; O aye my wife she dang me, Guid faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. beat O GUID ALE COMES. O guid ale comes and guid ale goes, I had sax owsen in a pleugh, ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST. CHORUS. Robin shure in hairst, I shure wi' him; Fient a heuk had I, Yet I stack by him. I gaed up to Dunse, To warp a wab o' plaiden; At his daddie's yett, Wha met me but Robin? Was na Robin bauld, Though I was a cotter, Played me sic a trick, And me the eller's dochter? Robin promised me A' my winter vittle; Fient haet he had but three Goose feathers and a whittle. SWEETEST MAY. Sweetest May, let love inspire thee; Proof o' shot to birth or money, SONGS IMPROVED. THERE WAS A BONNIE LASS. There was a bonnie lass, and a bonnie, bonnie lass, Till war's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms, Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar, And nought could him quail, or his bosom assail, 277 CROWDIE. O that I had ne'er been married, Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. Waefu' want and hunger fley me, Sair I fecht them at the door, But aye I'm eerie they come ben. [The first verse of this song is old; the second was written by Burns. Stenhouse.] NOTES TO JOHNSON'S SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM. [In the latter part of his life, Burns procured an interleaved copy of Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, for the purpose of concentrating in that place his remarks on Scottish songs and airs, and all that he knew of their authors. The copy thus annotated he presented to Captain Riddel of Glenriddel, whose niece, Eliza Bayley, of Manchester, latterly possessed it. Most of the notes are merely indications of an author's name, or of a simple fact respecting the locality or origin of the song. Such of them as possess any general interest are here presented.] O OPEN THE DOOR, LORD GREGORY. It is somewhat singular, that in Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton, Kirkcudbright, and Dumfries shires, there is scarcely an old song or tune which, from the title, &c., can be guessed to belong to, or be the production of, these counties. This, I conjecture, is one of these very few; as the ballad, which is a long one, is called, both by tradition and in printed collections, The Lass of Lochryan, which I take to be Lochryan, in Galloway. CLOUT THE CALDRON. A tradition is mentioned in the Bee, that the second Bishop Chisholm, of Dumblane, used to say, that if he were going to be hanged, nothing would soothe his mind so much by the way as to hear Clout the Caldron played. I have met with another tradition, that the old song to this tune Hae ye ony pots or pans, was composed on one of the Kenmure family, in the cavalier times, and alluded to an amour he had, while under hiding, in the disguise of an itinerant tinker. The air is also known by the name of The Blacksmith and his Apron, which, from the rhythm, seems to have been a line of some old song to the tune. NOTES TO JOHNSON'S MUSICAL MUSEUM. SAW YE MY PEGGY? 279 This charming song is much older, and, indeed, superior to Ramsay's verses, The Toast, as he calls them. There is another set of the words, much older still, and which I take to be the original one; but though it has a very great deal of merit, it is not quite ladies' reading. The original words, for they can scarcely be called verses, seem to be as follow-a song familiar from the cradle to every Scottish ear: Saw ye my Maggie, Saw ye my Maggie, Saw ye my Maggie Linkin' o'er the lea? High kilted was she, High kilted was she, High kilted was she, Her coat aboon her knee, &c. Though it by no means follows that the silliest verses to an air must, for that reason, be the original song, yet I take this ballad, of which I have quoted part, to be old verses. The two songs in Ramsay, one of them evidently his own, are never to be met with in the fireside circle of our peasantry; while that which I take to be the old song is in every shepherd's mouth. Ramsay, I suppose, had thought the old verses unworthy of a place in his collection. THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH. This song is one of the many effusions of Scots Jacobitism. The title, Flowers of Edinburgh, has no manner of connection with the present verses; so I suspect there has been an older set of words, of which the title is all that remains. By the by, it is singular enough that the Scottish Muses were all Jacobites. I have paid more attention to every description of Scots songs than perhaps anybody living has done, and I do not recollect one single stanza, or even the title, of the most trifling Scots air, which has the least panegyrical reference to the families of Nassau or Brunswick, while there are hundreds satirising them. This may be thought no panegyric on the Scots poets, but I mean it as such. For myself, I would always take it as a compliment to have it said that my heart ran before my head-and surely the gallant though unfortunate house of Stuart, the kings of our fathers for so many heroic ages, is a theme |