Their waefu' fate what need I tell?
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his Country fell
Upon Culloden's field.

Och-on, O Donald, oh!
Och-on, och-on, och-rie !
Nae woman in the warld wide
Sae wretched now as me.

O STEER HER UP.

TUNE-O steer her up, and haud her gaun.

[The first four lines of this song are part of an old song which appears in D'Urfey's Collection.]

O steer her up, and haud her gaun- stir-keep her going

Her mother's at the mill, jo,

And gin she winna take a man,

E'en let her tak her will, jo:

First shore her wi' a gentle kiss,
And ca' anither gill, jo;

And gin she take the thing amiss,
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.

O steer her up, and be na blate,

And gin she tak it ill, jo,

Then leave the lassie till her fate,

And time nae langer spill, jo:

Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,

But think upon it still, jo;

Then gin the lassie winna do 't,
Ye'll find another will, jo.

if

threaten

call

scold

bashful

one rebuff

WEE WILLIE GRAY.

[Written by Burns in imitation, and to the tune, of an old nurserysong called 'Wee Totum Fogg.']

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,

Peel a willow-wand, to be him boots and jacket;

The rose upon the breer will be him trews and doublet,
The rose upon the breer will be him trews and doublet.

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,

Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat;
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.

shirt

O AY MY WIFE SHE DANG ME.
TUNE-My Wife she dang me.

On peace an' rest my mind was bent,

And fool I was, I married;
But never honest man's intent
Sae cursedly miscarried.

Chorus-O ay my wife she dang me,

And aft my wife she bang'd me,

discomfited

beat

SWEETEST MA Y.

Sweetest May, let love inspire thee;
Take a heart which he designs thee;
As thy constant slave regard it;
For its faith and truth reward it.

Proof o' shot to birth or money.
Not the wealthy but the bonny;
Not high-born, but noble-minded,
In love's silken band can bind it.

Proof against the attractions of

THERE WAS A BONNY LASS.

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear,

Till war's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' monie a sigh and a tear.

Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear;

And nought could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear.

CROWDIE.

['The first verse of this song is old; the second was written by Burns.' -STENHOUSE.]

Waefu' Want and Hunger fley me,

Glowrin' by the hallan en';
Sair I fecht them at the door,

But aye I'm eerie they come ben.

terrify

staring-cottage door

fear lest-come in

THE BONIE MOOR HEN.

[This song was based on an old 'Crochallan' ditty.]
The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
Our lads gaed a-hunting, ae day at the dawn,
O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen.
At length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen.

Chorus-I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men ;
I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men ;
Take some on the wing, and some as they spring,
But cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen.

cautiously

Sweet brushing the dew from the brown heather bells,
Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells;
Her plumage outlustr'd the pride o' the spring,
And O! as she wanton'd sae gay on the wing.

Auld Phoebus himsel, as he peep'd o'er the hill,
In spite at her plumage he tryèd his skill;
He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae-
His rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay.

slope

They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill,
The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill;
But still as the fairest she sat in their sight,
Then, whirr! she was over-a mile at a flight.

NOTES

ΤΟ

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 jotting down 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.

THE HIGHLAND QUEEN.

The Highland Queen, music and poetry, was composed by a Mr M'Vicar, purser of the Solbay man-of-war. This I had from Dr Blacklock.

BESS THE GAWKIE.

This song shows that the Scottish Muses did not all leave us when we lost Ramsay and Oswald, as I have good reason to believe that the verses and music are both posterior to the days of these two gentlemen. It is a beautiful song, and in the genuine Scots taste. We have few pastoral compositions, I mean the pastoral of nature, that are equal to this.

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 o' Lochroyan,' which I take to be Lochryan in Galloway.