(a verb I must use for want of another to express my idea) somewhere
in the north of Scotland, and likewise is claimed by Ayrshire.--The
following anecdote I had from the present Sir William Cunningham, of
Robertland, who had it from the last John, Earl of Loudon. The then
Earl of Loudon, and father to Earl John before mentioned, had Ramsay
at Loudon, and one day walking together by the banks of Irvine water,
near New-Mills, at a place called Patie's Mill, they were struck with
the appearance of a beautiful country girl. His lordship observed that
she would be a fine theme for a song.--Allan lagged behind in
returning to Loudon Castle, and at dinner produced this identical
song.
* * * * *
THE TURNIMSPIKE.
There is a stanza of this excellent song for local humour, omitted in
this set.--Where I have placed the asterisms.
"They tak the horse then by te head,
And tere tey mak her stan', man;
Me tell tem, me hae seen te day,
Tey no had sic comman', man."
* * * * *
HIGHLAND LADDIE.
As this was a favourite theme with our later Scottish muses, there are
several airs and songs of that name. That which I take to be the
oldest, is to be found in the "Musical Museum," beginning, "I hae been
at Crookieden." One reason for my thinking so is, that Oswald has it
in his collection, by the name of "The Auld Highland Laddie." It is
also known by the name of "Jinglan Johnie," which is a well-known song
of four or five stanzas, and seems to be an earlier song than Jacobite
times. As a proof of this, it is little known to the peasantry by the
name of "Highland Laddie;" while everybody knows "Jinglan Johnie." The
song begins
"Jinglan John, the meickle man,
He met wi' a lass was blythe and bonie."
Another "Highland Laddie" is also in the "Museum," vol. v., which I
take to be Ramsay's original, as he has borrowed the chorus--"O my
bonie Highland lad," &c. It consists of three stanzas, besides the
chorus; and has humour in its composition--it is an excellent, but
somewhat licentious song.--It begins
"As I cam o'er Cairney mount,
And down among the blooming heather."
This air, and the common "Highland Laddie," seem only to be different
sets.
Another "Highland Laddie," also in the "Museum," vol. v., is the tune
of several Jacobite fragments. One of these old songs to it, only
exists, as far as I know, in these four lines--
"Where hae ye been a' day,
Bonie laddie, Highland laddie?
Down the back o' Bell's brae,
Courtin Maggie, courtin Maggie."
Another of this name is Dr. Arne's beautiful air, called the new
"Highland Laddie."
* * * * *
THE GENTLE SWAIN.
To sing such a beautiful air to such execrable verses, is downright
prostitution of common sense! The Scots verses indeed are tolerable.
* * * * *
HE STOLE MY TENDER HEART AWAY.
This is an Anglo-Scottish production, but by no means a bad one.
* * * * *
FAIREST OF THE FAIR.
It is too barefaced to take Dr. Percy's charming song, and by means of
transposing a few English words into Scots, to offer to pass it for a
Scots song.--I was not acquainted with the editor until the first
volume was nearly finished, else, had I known in time, I would have
prevented such an impudent absurdity.
* * * * *
THE BLAITHRIE O'T.
The following is a set of this song, which was the earliest song I
remember to have got by heart. When a child, an old woman sung it to
me, and I picked it up, every word, at first hearing.
"O Willy, weel I mind, I lent you my hand
To sing you a song which you did me command;
But my memory's so bad I had almost forgot
That you called it the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
I'll not sing about confusion, delusion or pride,
I'll sing about a laddie was for a virtuous bride;
For virtue is an ornament that time will never rot,
And preferable to gear and the blaithrie o't.--
Tho' my lassie hae nae scarlets or silks to put on,
We envy not the greatest that sits upon the throne;
I wad rather hae my lassie, tho' she cam in her smock,
Than a princess wi' the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
Tho' we hae nae horses or menzies at command,
We will toil on our foot, and we'll work wi' our hand;
And when wearied without rest, we'll find it sweet in any spot,
And we'll value not the gear and the blaithrie o't.--
If we hae ony babies, we'll count them as lent;
Hae we less, hae we mair, we will ay be content;
For they say they hae mair pleasure that wins bu groat,
Than the miser wi' his gear and the blaithrie o't--
I'll not meddle wi' th' affairs of the kirk or the queen;
They're nae matters for a sang, let them sink, let them swim;
On your kirk I'll ne'er encroach, but I'll hold it stil remote,
Sae tak this for the gear and the blaithrie o't."
* * * * *
MAY EVE, OR KATE OF ABERDEEN.
"Kate of Aberdeen" is, I believe, the work of poor Cunningham the
player; of whom the following anecdote, though told before, deserves a
recital. A fat dignitary of the church coming past Cunningham one
_Sunday_, as the poor poet was busy plying a fishing-rod in some
stream near Durham, his native country, his reverence reprimanded
Cunningham very severely for such an occupation on such a day. The
poor poet, with that inoffensive gentleness of manners which was his
peculiar characteristic, replied, that he hoped God and his reverence
would forgive his seeming profanity of that sacred day, "_as he had no
dinner to eat, but what lay at the bottom of that pool_!" This, Mr.
Woods, the player, who knew Cunningham well, and esteemed him much,
assured me was true.
* * * * *
TWEED SIDE.
In Ramsay's Tea-table Miscellany, he tells us that about thirty of the
songs in that publication were the works of some young gentlemen of
his acquaintance; which songs are marked with the letters D. C.
&c.--Old Mr. Tytler of Woodhouselee, the worthy and able defender of
the beauteous Queen of Scots, told me that the songs marked C, in the
_Tea-table_, were the composition of a Mr. Crawfurd, of the house of
Achnames, who was afterwards unfortunately drowned coming from
France.--As Tytler was most intimately acquainted with Allan Ramsay, I
think the anecdote may be depended on. Of consequence, the beautiful
song of Tweed Side is Mr. Crawfurd's, and indeed does great honour to
his poetical talents. He was a Robert Crawfurd; the Mary he celebrates
was a Mary Stewart, of the Castle-Milk family, afterwards married to a
Mr. John Ritchie.
I have seen a song, calling itself the original Tweed Side, and said
to have been composed by a Lord Yester. It consisted of two stanzas,
of which I still recollect the first--
"When Maggy and I was acquaint,
I carried my noddle fu' hie;
Nae lintwhite on a' the green plain,
Nor gowdspink sae happy as me:
But I saw her sae fair and I lo'ed:
I woo'd, but I came nae great speed;
So now I maun wander abroad,
And lay my banes far frae the Tweed."--
* * * * *
THE POSY.
It appears evident to me that Oswald composed his _Roslin Castle_ on
the modulation of this air.--In the second part of Oswald's, in the
three first bars, he has either hit on a wonderful similarity to, or
else he has entirely borrowed the three first bars of the old air; and
the close of both tunes is almost exactly the same. The old verses to
which it was sung, when I took down the notes from a country girl's
voice, had no great merit.--The following is a specimen:
"There was a pretty May, and a milkin she went;
Wi' her red rosy cheeks, and her coal black hair;
And she has met a young man a comin o'er the bent,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.
O where are ye goin, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, and thy coal black hair?
Unto the yowes a milkin, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.
What if I gang alang with thee, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, any thy coal-black hair;
Wad I be aught the warse o' that, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May."
* * * * *
MARY'S DREAM.
The Mary here alluded to is generally supposed to be Miss Mary
Macghie, daughter to the Laird of Airds, in Galloway. The poet was a
Mr. John Lowe, who likewise wrote another beautiful song, called
Pompey's Ghost.--I have seen a poetic epistle from him in North
America, where he now is, or lately was, to a lady in Scotland.--By
the strain of the verses, it appeared that they allude to some love
affair.
* * * * *
THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS.
BY MR. DUDGEON.
This Dudgeon is a respectable farmer's son in Berwickshire.
* * * * *
I WISH MY LOVE WERE IN A MIRE.
I never heard more of the words of this old song than the title.
* * * * *
ALLAN WATER.
This Allan Water, which the composer of the music has honoured with
the name of the air, I have been told is Allan Water, in Strathallan.
* * * * *
THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.
This is one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots, or any other
language.--The two lines,
"And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak!"
as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything I
ever heard or read: and the lines,
"The present moment is our ain,
The neist we never saw,"--
are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days.
About the year 1771, or 72, it came first on the streets as a ballad;
and I suppose the composition of the song was not much anterior to
that period.
* * * * *
TARRY WOO.
This is a very pretty song; but I fancy that the first half stanza, as
well as the tune itself, are much older than the rest of the words.
* * * * *
GRAMACHREE.
The song of Gramachree was composed by a Mr. Poe, a counsellor at law
in Dublin. This anecdote I had from a gentleman who knew the lady, the
"Molly," who is the subject of the song, and to whom Mr. Poe sent the
first manuscript of his most beautiful verses. I do not remember any
single line that has more true pathos than
"How can she break that honest heart that wears her in its core!"
But as the song is Irish, it had nothing to do in this collection.
* * * * *
THE COLLIER'S BONNIE LASSIE.
The first half stanza is much older than the days of Ramsay.--The old
words began thus:
"The collier has a dochter, and, O, she's wonder bonnie!
A laird he was that sought her, rich baith in lands and money.
She wad na hae a laird, nor wad she be a lady,
But she wad hae a collier, the colour o' her daddie."
* * * * *
MY AIN KIND DEARIE-O.
The old words of this song are omitted here, though much more
beautiful than these inserted; which were mostly composed by poor
Fergusson, in one of his merry humours. The old words began thus:
"I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O,
I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O,
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wat,
And I were ne'er sae weary, O;
I'll rowe thee o'er the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O."--
* * * * *
MARY SCOTT, THE FLOWER OF YARROW.
Mr. Robertson, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk,
says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from the
Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter was married
to a predecessor of the present Sir Francis Elliot, of Stobbs, and of
the late Lord Heathfield.
There is a circumstance in their contract of marriage that merits
attention, and it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times.
The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time after the
marriage; for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the
profits of the first Michaelmas moon!
* * * * *
DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.
I have been informed, that the tune of "Down the burn, Davie," was the
composition of David Maigh, keeper of the blood slough hounds,
belonging to the Laird of Riddel, in Tweeddale.
* * * * *
BLINK O'ER THE BURN, SWEET BETTIE.
The old words, all that I remember, are,--
"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
It is a cauld winter night:
It rains, it hails, it thunders,
The moon, she gies nae light:
It's a' for the sake o' sweet Betty,
That ever I tint my way;
Sweet, let me lie beyond thee
Until it be break o' day.--
O, Betty will bake my bread,
And Betty will brew my ale,
And Betty will be my love,
When I come over the dale:
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
Blink over the burn to me,
And while I hae life, dear lassie,
My ain sweet Betty thou's be."
* * * * *
THE BLITHSOME BRIDAL.
I find the "Blithsome Bridal" in James Watson's collection of Scots
poems, printed at Edinburgh, in 1706. This collection, the publisher
says, is the first of its nature which has been published in our own
native Scots dialect--it is now extremely scarce.
* * * * *
JOHN HAY'S BONNIE LASSIE.
John Hay's "Bonnie Lassie" was daughter of John Hay, Earl or Marquis
of Tweeddale, and late Countess Dowager of Roxburgh.--She died at
Broomlands, near Kelso, some time between the years 1720 and 1740.
* * * * *
THE BONIE BRUCKET LASSIE.
The two first lines of this song are all of it that is old. The rest
of the song, as well as those songs in the Museum marked T., are the
works of an obscure, tippling, but extraordinary body of the name of
Tytler, commonly known by the name of Balloon Tytler, from his having
projected a balloon; a mortal, who, though he drudges about Edinburgh
as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky-lighted hat, and
knee-buckles as unlike as George-by-the-grace-of-God, and
Solomon-the-son-of-David; yet that same unknown drunken mortal is
author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous Encyclopedia
Britannica, which he composed at half a guinea a week!
* * * * *
SAE MERRY AS WE TWA HA'E BEEN.
This song is beautiful.--The chorus in particular is truly pathetic. I
never could learn anything of its author.
CHORUS.
"Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been;
My heart is like for to break,
When I think on the days we ha'e seen."
* * * * *
THE BANKS OF FORTH.
This air is Oswald's.
* * * * *
THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.
This is another beautiful song of Mr. Crawfurd's composition. In the
neighbourhood of Traquair, tradition still shows the old "Bush;"
which, when I saw it, in the year 1787, was composed of eight or nine
ragged birches. The Earl of Traquair has planted a clump of trees near
by, which he calls "The New Bush."
* * * * *
CROMLET'S LILT.
The following interesting account of this plaintive dirge was
communicated to Mr. Riddel by Alexander Fraser Tytler, Esq., of
Woodhouselee.
"In the latter end of the sixteenth century, the Chisolms were
proprietors of the estate of Cromlecks (now possessed by the
Drummonds). The eldest son of that family was very much attached to a
daughter of Sterling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name of Fair
Helen of Ardoch.
"At that time the opportunities of meeting betwixt the sexes were more
rare, consequently more sought after than now; and the Scottish
ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, were
thought sufficiently book-learned if they could make out the
Scriptures in their mother-tongue. Writing was entirely out of the
line of female education. At that period the most of our young men of
family sought a fortune, or found a grave, in France. Cromlus, when he
went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the management of his
correspondence with his mistress to a lay-brother of the monastery of
Dumblain, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cromleck, and near Ardoch.
This man, unfortunately, was deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He
artfully prepossessed her with stories to the disadvantage of Cromlus;
and, by misinterpreting or keeping up the letters and messages
intrusted to his care, he entirely irritated both. All connexion was
broken off betwixt them; Helen was inconsolable, and Cromlus has left
behind him, in the ballad called 'Cromlet's Lilt,' a proof of the
elegance of his genius, as well as the steadiness of his love.
"When the artful monk thought time had sufficiently softened Helen's
sorrow, he proposed himself as a lover: Helen was obdurate: but at
last, overcome by the persuasions of her brother, with whom she lived,
and who, having a family of thirty-one children, was probably very
well pleased to get her off his hands--she submitted, rather than
consented to the ceremony; but there her compliance ended; and, when
forcibly put into bed, she started quite frantic from it, screaming
out, that after three gentle taps on the wainscot, at the bed-head,
she heard Cromlus's voice, crying, 'Helen, Helen, mind me!' Cromlus
soon after coming home, the treachery of the confidant was
discovered,--her marriage disannulled,--and Helen became Lady
Cromlecks."
N. B. Marg. Murray, mother to these thirty-one children, was daughter
to Murray of Strewn, one of the seventeen sons of Tullybardine, and
whose youngest son, commonly called the Tutor of Ardoch, died in the
year 1715, aged 111 years.
* * * * *
MY DEARIE, IF THOU DIE.
Another beautiful song of Crawfurd's.
* * * * *
SHE ROSE AND LOOT ME IN.
The old set of this song, which is still to be found in printed
collections, is much prettier than this; but somebody, I believe it
was Ramsay, took it into his head to clear it of some seeming
indelicacies, and made it at once more chaste and more dull.
* * * * *
GO TO THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION.
I am not sure if this old and charming air be of the South, as is
commonly said, or of the North of Scotland. There is a song,
apparently as ancient us "Ewe-bughts, Marion," which sings to the same
tune, and is evidently of the North.--It begins thus:
"The Lord o' Gordon had three dochters,
Mary, Marget, and Jean,
They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon,
But awa to Aberdeen."
* * * * *
LEWIS GORDON.
This air is a proof how one of our Scots tunes comes to be composed
out of another. I have one of the earliest copies of the song, and it
has prefixed,
"Tune of Tarry Woo."--
Of which tune a different set has insensibly varied into a different
air.--To a Scots critic, the pathos of the line,
"'Tho' his back be at the wa',"
--must be very striking. It needs not a Jacobite prejudice to be
affected with this song.
The supposed author of "Lewis Gordon" was a Mr. Geddes, priest, at
Shenval, in the Ainzie.
* * * * *
O HONE A RIE.
Dr. Blacklock informed me that this song was composed on the infamous
massacre of Glencoe.
* * * * *
I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE.
This is another of Crawfurd's songs, but I do not think in his
happiest manner.--What an absurdity, to join such names as _Adonis_
and _Mary_ together!
* * * * *
CORN RIGS ARE BONIE.
All the old words that ever I could meet to this air were the
following, which seem to have been an old chorus:
"O corn rigs and rye rigs,
O corn rigs are bonie;
And where'er you meet a bonie lass,
Preen up her cockernony."
* * * * *
THE MUCKING OF GEORDIE'S BYRE.
The chorus of this song is old; the rest is the work of Balloon
Tytler.
* * * * *
BIDE YE YET.
There is a beautiful song to this tune, beginning,
"Alas, my son, you little know,"--
which is the composition of Miss Jenny Graham, of Dumfries.
* * * * *
WAUKIN O' THE FAULD.
There are two stanzas still sung to this tune, which I take to be the
original song whence Ramsay composed his beautiful song of that name
in the Gentle Shepherd.--It begins
"O will ye speak at our town,
As ye come frae the fauld."
I regret that, as in many of our old songs, the delicacy of this old
fragment is not equal to its wit and humour.
* * * * *
TRANENT-MUIR.
"Tranent-Muir," was composed by a Mr. Skirving, a very worthy
respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often,
that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to
Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to
Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner
in which he had noticed him in his song. "Gang away back," said the
honest farmer, "and tell Mr. Smith that I hae nae leisure to come to
Haddington; but tell him to come here, and I'll tak a look o' him, and
if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no, I'll do as
he did--_I'll rin awa."_--
* * * * *
TO THE WEAVERS GIN YE GO.
The chorus of this song is old, the rest of it is mine. Here, once for
all, let me apologize for many silly compositions of mine in this
work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; in the hurry of other
avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together anything
near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass. He must be an excellent
poet indeed whose every performance is excellent.
* * * * *
POLWARTH ON THE GREEN.
The author of "Polwarth on the Green" is Capt. John Drummond M'Gregor,
of the family of Bochaldie.
* * * * *
STREPHON AND LYDIA.
The following account of this song I had from Dr. Blacklock.
The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the song were perhaps the
loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known by
the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the "Gentle Jean," celebrated
somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's poems.--Having frequently met at
public places, they had formed a reciprocal attachment, which their
friends thought dangerous, as their resources were by no means
adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To elude the bad
consequences of such a connexion, Strephon was sent abroad with a
commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's expedition to Carthagena.
The author of this song was William Wallace, Esq. of Cairnhill, in
Ayrshire.
* * * * *
I'M O'ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET.
The chorus of this song is old. The rest of it, such as it is, is
mine.
* * * * *
M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.
M'Pherson, a daring robber, in the beginning of this century, was
condemned to be hanged at the assizes of Inverness. He is said, when
under sentence of death, to have composed this tune, which he called
his own lament or farewell.
Gow has published a variation of this fine tune as his own
composition, which he calls "The Princess Augusta."
* * * * *
MY JO, JANET.
Johnson, the publisher, with a foolish delicacy, refused to insert the
last stanza of this humorous ballad.
* * * * *
THE SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.
The words by a Mr. R. Scott, from the town or neighbourhood of Biggar.
* * * * *
THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.
I composed these stanzas standing under the falls of Aberfeldy, at or
near Moness.
* * * * *
THE HIGHLAND LASSIE O.
This was a composition of mine in very early life, before I was known
at all in the world. My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted, charming
young creature as ever blessed a man with generous love. After a
pretty long tract of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met by
appointment on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot by the
banks of Ayr, where we spent the day in taking a farewell before she
should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters among her
friends for our projected change of life. At the close of autumn
following she crossed the sea to meet me at Greenock, where she had
scarce landed when she was seized with a malignant fever, which
hurried my dear girl to the grave in a few days, before I could even
hear of her last illness.
* * * * *
FIFE, AND A' THE LANDS ABOUT IT.
This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He, as well as I, often gave Johnson
verses, trifling enough perhaps, but they served as a vehicle to the
music.
* * * * *
WERE NA MY HEART LIGHT I WAD DIE.
Lord Hailes, in the notes to his collection of ancient Scots poems,
says that this song was the composition of a Lady Grissel Baillie,
daughter of the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie,
of Jerviswood.
* * * * *
THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.
This song is the composition of Balloon Tytler.
* * * * *
STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.
This air in the composition of one of the worthiest and best-hearted
men living--Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edinburgh. As he and I
were both sprouts of Jacobitism we agreed to dedicate the words and
air to that cause.
To tell the matter-of-fact, except when my passions were heated by
some accidental cause, my Jacobitism was merely by way of _vive la
bagatelle._
* * * * *
UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
The chorus of this is old; the two stanzas are mine.
* * * * *
THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.
Dr. Blacklock told me that Smollet, who was at the bottom a great
Jacobite, composed these beautiful and pathetic verses on the infamous
depredations of the Duke of Cumberland after the battle of Culloden.
* * * * *
WHAT WILL I DO GIN MY HOGGIE DIE.
Dr. Walker, who was minister at Moffat in 1772, and is now (1791)
Professor of Natural History in the University of Edinburgh, told the
following anecdote concerning this air.--He said, that some gentlemen,
riding a few years ago through Liddesdale, stopped at a hamlet
consisting of a few houses, called Moss Platt, when they were struck
with this tune, which an old woman, spinning on a rock at her door,
was singing. All she could tell concerning it was, that she was taught
it when a child, and it was called "What will I do gin my Hoggie die?"
No person, except a few females at Moss Platt, knew this fine old
tune, which in all probability would have been lost had not one of the
gentlemen, who happened to have a flute with him, taken it down.
* * * * *
I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE SPRINGING.