Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

My mither bade me marry the Laird,
Ha, ha, ha, I'll no hae him;

Sin' his wealth bears the bell,

Ye may wed him yoursel',

With his auld gray beard newly shaven.

Wad mither and friends but let me alane,
And tell the Laird, I'll no hae him,
He'd forget to complain,

Nor come o'er here again,

With his auld gray beard newly shaven.

First stanza old, rest original.

THERE WAS ANE MAY.

THERE was ane May, and she lo'ed nae men,
She biggit her bonny bower down in yon glen,
But now she cries dool! and a-well-a-day!
Come down the green gate, and come here away.

When bonny young Johnny came o'er the sea,
He said he saw naithing sae lovely as me;
He height me baith rings and mony braw things;
And were na' my heart light, I wad die.

He had a wee titty that lo'ed na me,

Because I was twice as bonny as she;

She rais'd such a pother 'twixt him and his mother, That were na' my heart light, I wad die.

167

THERE WAS ANE MAY.

The day it was set, and the bridal to be,

The wife took a dwaum, and lay down to die:

She main'd and she grain'd out of dolour and pain,
Till he vowed he never wad see me again.

His kin was for ane of a higher degree,
Said, what had he to do with the like of me?
Albeit I was bonny, I was na for Johnny;
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

They said, I had neither cow nor cawf,
Nor dribbles of drink rins through the draff,
Nor pickles of meal rins through the mill e'e:
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

His titty she was baith wylie and slee,
She spied me as I came o'er the lee,
And then she ran in and made a loud din;
Believe your ain een, an' ye trow na me.

His bonnet stood aye fou round on his brow,
His auld ane looks aye as well as some's new;
But now he lets't wear ony gate it will hing,
And casts himself dowie upon the corn-bing.

And now he gangs dandering about the dykes,
And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes:
The live-lang night he ne'er steeks his eye,
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

Were I young for thee, as I hae been,

We shou'd hae been galloping down on yon green,
And linking it on the lily-white lee;

And wow gin I were but young for thee.

"There is no single word in modern English," says Lord Hales, in notes to his Selections from the Bannatyne MSS. "which corresponds with dow: that which approaches the nearest to it, is list, from which the adjective listless. The force of the word dow, is well expressed in the penultimate stanza of the foregoing Ballad. The lines alluded to, are in the description of one crossed in love, by an envious sister's machination, and a peevish mother's frowardness:"

And now he gangs dandering about the dykes,
And all he dow do is to hund the tykes."

"The whole," continues his Lordship, "is executed with equal truth and strength of colouring." This Ballad is the composition of Lady Grissel Baillie, daughter of Patrick, the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie of Jarviswood, whose widow she died in 1746.

www

PRESTWICK DRUM.

Air-AITKEN DRUM.

AT gloamin' gray, the close o' day,
When saftly sinks the village hum,
Nor far nor near ought meets the ear,
But aiblins Prestwick drum.

Nae bluidy battle it betides,

Nor sack, nor siege, nor ought besides,
Twa gude sheep-skins, wi' oaken sides,
An' leather lugs aroun'.

BAILLIE'S Daughter of BONNY DUNDEE. 169

In days o' yore, when to our shore,
For aid the gallant Bruce did come,
His lieges leal, did tak' the fiel',

An' march'd to Prestwick drum.

Gude service aften is forgot,
An' favour won by crafty plot,
An' sik, alas! has been the lot

O' Prestwick's ancient drum.

"The original charter of Prestwick is now lost, but is referred to, in the renewed grant by James VI. of Scotland. Bruce having at first been unsuccessful, after passing some time in exile, reappeared in Arran, and crossing the Frith, landed on Prestwick shore, where the inhabitants joined his standard in considerable force; for which service, the king was pleased to erect their town into a barony, with a jurisdiction extending from the Water of Ayr to the Water of Irvine."

THE BAILLIE'S DAUGHTER OF BONNY DUNDEE.

Oh, have I burned, or have I slain,

Or have I done ought of injury!

I've slighted the lass I may ne'er see again,
The Baillie's daughter of bonny Dundee.

Bonny Dundee, and bonny Dundas,
Where shall I meet sae comely a lass!
Open your ports and let me gang free,

I maunna stay langer in bonny Dundee!

It is barely necessary to mention here, that the two concluding lines of the above lively fragment, are those sung by Rob Roy, towards the finale of his midnight interview with Baillie Nicol Jarvie, in the Tolbooth of Glasgow. See the historical novel of " Rob Roy."

WILL YE GO TO ALDAVALLOCH.

IMITATED FROM THE GAELIC.

Will ye go to Aldavalloch?
Will ye go to Aldavalloch?

Sweet the mellow mavis sings,
Amang the braes of Aldavalloch.

There, beneath the spreading boughs,
Amang the woods of green Glenfalloch,
Softly murmuring as it flows,

Winds the pure stream of Aldavalloch.

The first golden smile of morn,

And the last beam that evening sheddeth,

Baith that echoing vale adorn

That brightly glows, this mildly fadeth.

Short is there hoar winter's stay,

When spring returns like Hebe blooming

Hand in hand with rosy May,

With balmy breath the air perfuming.

But there's a flower, a fairer flower

Than ever grew in green Glenfalloch,

The blithesome maiden I adore,
Young blooming May of Aldavalloch.

« ZurückWeiter »