licacies, 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 antient as 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, They wad na stay at bonie Castle Gordon, Will ye go to the ew-bughts, Marion, But nae haff sae sweet as thee. O Marion's a bonny lass, And the blyth blinks in her e'e; And fain wad I marry Marion, Gin Marion wad marry me. There's gowd in your garters, Marion, And silk on your white hause-bane; Fu' fain wad I kiss my Marion, At e'en when I come hame. There's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, I've nine milk-ews, my Marion, And ye's get a green sey apron, And waistcoat of the London brown, And wow! but ye will be vap'ring, Whene'er ye gang to the town. I'm young and stout, my Marion; And gin ye forsake me, Marion, Sae put on your pearlins, Marion, hair on, 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 sup * This is marked in the Tea Table Miscellany as an old song with additions.-Ed. + "Lord Lewis Gordon, younger brother to the then Duke of Gordon, commanded a detachment for the Chevalier, and acquitted himself with great gallantry and judgment. He died in 1754." posed author of " Lewis Gordon" was a Mr. Geddes, priest, at Shencal, in the Ainzie. Oh! send Lewie Gordon hame, Oh! to see his tartan-trews, Bonnet blue, and laigh-heel'd shoes; Philabeg aboon his knee; That's the lad that I'll gang wi'! Oh hon! &c. The princely youth that I do mean, Is fitted for to be a king; On his breast he wears a star; You'd tak him for the God of War. Oh hon! &c. Oh to see this Princely One, Seated on a royal throne! Then begins the Jub'lee year! Oh hon! &c. OH ONO CHRIO.* Dr. Blacklock informed me that this song was composed on the infamous massacre of Glencoe. Oh! was not I a weary wight! Oh! ono chri, oh! ono chri— Maid, wife, and widow, in one night! O! when most I thought him free from harms. They broke my bower, and slew my knight. Nae sly-tongued youth, or flatt'ring swain, Thine still, dear youth, that heart shall be, I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE. THIS is another of Crawford's songs, but I do not think in his happiest manner.-What an ab * A corruption of O hone a rie' signifying-Alas for the prince, or chief. |