Fu' aft at e'en
Wi' dancing keen,

When a' were blithe and merry,
I cared na by,

Sae sad was I

In absence o' my dearie.
But, praise be blest,

My mind's at rest,

I'm happy wi' my Johnny;
At kirk and fair,

I'se aye be there,

And be as canty's1 ony.

THE DEUK'S DANG O'ER MY DADDIE, O.

Tune-"The deuk's dang o'er my daddie."

THE bairns gat out wi' an unco shout,
The deuk's dang2 o'er my daddie, O!
The fient may care, quo' the feirie3 auld wife,
He was but a paidlin body, O!

4

He paidles out, and he paidles in,

And he paidles late and early, O!

Thae seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
And he is but a fusionless 5 carlie, O!

Oh, haud your tongue, my feirie auld wife,
Oh, haud your tongue now, Nansie, O!
I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,

CUNNINGHAM gives the following account of this song:-"Burns, on one occasion, was on a visit at a friend's house for two or three days; and during his stay there a convivial party met, at which the bard was requested to favour the company with a poetical effusion. He promptly complied by writing the song in question. The original MS. is now in the possession of Captain

Hendries, who commands a Scottish trading vessel, and who is nephew to the gentleman at whose festive board Burns was entertained on the evening alluded to.

"

HERE around the ingle1 bleezing,

Wha sae happy and sae free;

Though the northern wind blaws freezing,
Frien'ship warms baith you and me.

CHORUS.

Happy we are a' thegither,
Happy we'll be yin and a';
Time shall see us a' the blither,
Ere we rise to gang awa'.

See the miser o'er his treasure

Gloating wi' a greedy ee!

Can he feel the glow o' pleasure
That around us here we see?

Can the peer, in silk and ermine,
Ca' his conscience half his own;
His claes are spun and edged wi' vermin,
Though he stan' afore a throne!

2

Thus, then, let us a' be tassing3

Aff our stoups o' gen'rous flame;
And, while round the board 'tis passing,
Raise a sang in frien'ship's name.

Frien'ship maks us a' mair happy,
Frien'ship gies us a' delight;
Frien'ship consecrates the drappie,
Frien'ship brings us here to-night.

OH, SAW YE MY DEARIE.

Tune-" Eppie M'Nab."

Он, saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
Oh, saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
She's down in the yard, she's kissin' the laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab.

Oh, come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
Oh, come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
Whate'er thou hast done, be it late, be it soon,
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.

1 Fireside.

2 Clothes.

3 Tossing.

What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.

Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
As light as the air, as fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.

THE CARLE OF KELLYBURN BRAES.

Tune-"Kellyburn Braes."

AN improved version of an old song. Speaking to Cromek about the old songs her husband had altered and improved, Mrs. Burns said :-" Robert gae this ane a terrible brushing."

THERE lived a carle in Kellyburn braes,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme ;)
And he had a wife was the plague o' his days;
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Ae day as the carle gaed2 up the lang glen,
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
He met wi' the devil, says, "How do you fen? 3"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

"I've got a bad wife, sir; that's a' my complaint;
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint;"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

"It's neither your stot1 nor your staig5 I shall crave,
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have."

66

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

"Oh! welcome, most kindly," the blithe carle said.
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
"But if ye can match her, ye're waur than ye're ca'd."
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

The devil has got the auld wife on his back;
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

1 Man.

2 Went.

3 Live.

4 Bullock,

5 Colt.

He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door ;
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
Syne bade her gae in, for a bitch and a whore,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand;

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

The carlingaed through them like ony wud 2 bear,
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
Whae'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair;
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

A reekit 3 wee devil looks over the wa';

(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
"Oh, help, master, help! or she'll ruin us a','
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

The devil he swore by the edge o' his knife,
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
He pitied the man that was tied to a wife;

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

The devil he swore by the kirk and the bell,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
He was not in wedlock, thank Heaven, but in hell;
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack;
(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,)
And to her auld husband he's carried her back;
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

"I hae been a devil the feck o' my life;

(Hey, and the rue grows bonny wi' thyme,) But ne'er was in hell, till I met wi' a wife;"

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.

YE JACOBITES BY NAME.

Tune-"Ye Jacobites by Name."

YE Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear;
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear;

1 Woman.

2 Wild.

3 Smoked

4 Most.

Ye Jacobites by name,

Your faults I will proclaim,

Your doctrines I maun blame-
You shall hear.

What is right, and what is wrang, by the law, by the law?
What is right, and what is wrang, by the law?
What is right, and what is wrang?

A short sword, and a lang,

A weak arm, and a strang

For to draw.

What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?

What makes heroic strife?

To whet th' assassin's knife,
Or hunt a parent's life
Wi' bluidie war.

Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state;
Then let your schemes alone, in the state;

Then let your schemes alone,

Adore the rising sun,

And leave a man undone

To his fate.

AS I WAS A-WANDERING.

Tune-"Rinn Meudial mo Mhealladh."

As I was a-wandering ae midsummer e'enin',

The pipers and youngsters were making their game; Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover,

Which bled a' the wound o' my dolour again.

Weel, since he hast left me, may pleasure gae wi' him;
I may be distress'd, but I winna complain;

I'll flatter my fancy I may get anither,

My heart it shall never be broken for ane.

I couldna get sleeping till dawin1 for greeting,2
The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain:
Had I na got greeting, my heart wad hae broken,
For, oh! luve forsaken's a tormenting pain!

! Dawn.

2 Weeping.