And he took out his little knife, loot a' his duddies*

fa',

And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a'.

And we'll gang nae mair, &c.

The beggar was a cliver loon, and he lap shoulder height,

O ay for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight!
And we'll gang nae mair, &c.

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.

Ragged cloathing.

ALLAN WATER.

THIS Allan Water, which the composer of the music has honored with the name of the air, I have been told is Allan Water, in Strathallan.

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.

Tarry woo, tarry woo,
Tarry woo is ill to spin;
Card it well, card it well,
Card it well ere ye begin.
When 'tis carded, row'd and spun,
Then the work is haflens done;
But when woven, drest and clean,
It may be cleading for a queen.

Sing, my bonny harmless sheep,
That feed upon the mountain's steep,
Bleating sweetly as ye go,

Thro' the winter's frost and snow;

Hart, and hynd, and fallow-deer,
No be haff so useful are;

Frae kings to him that hads the plow,
Are all oblig'd to tarry woo.

Up, ye shepherds, dance and skip, O'er the hills and vallies trip, Sing up the praise of tarry woo, Sing the flocks that bear it too; Harmless creatures without blame, That clead the back, and cram the wame, Keep us warm and hearty fou;

Leese me on the tarry woo.

How happy is the shepherd's life,
Far frae courts, and free of strife,
While the gimmers bleat and bae,
And the lambkins answer mae :
No such music to his ear ;-

Of thief or fox he has no fear;
Sturdy Kent and Colly true,
Will defend the tarry woo.

He lives content, and envies none;
Not even a monarch on his throne,
Tho' he the royal sceptre sways,
Has not sweeter holidays.

Who'd be a king, can ony tell,
When a shepherd sings sae well?*
Sings sae well, and pays his due,
With honest heart and tarry woo.

GRAMACHREE.

THE song of Gramachree was composed by a Mr. Poe, a counsellor 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 thought contained in these two lines is an imitation of a verse in a fine old song, called "The Miller," which serves to confirm the truth of Burns's observation on the age of "Tarry Woo."-Ed.

THE COLLIER'S BONIE 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 bonie! 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 color o' her daddie.

MY AIN KIND DEARIE-0.

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 humors.-The old words began thus:

2

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.—