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I HAD A HORSE.
I gat it frae my daddie;
But my wit it was fu' ready.
Outwittens o' my daddie,
Wha had a bonnie lady.
Madam, be not offended;
And I carena though ye kend it:
And far less frae my daddie ; Yet I wad blythely be the man
Wad strive to please my lady. She read my letter, and she leugh;
Ye needna been sae blate, man, Ye might hae come to me yoursel,
And tauld me a' your state, man:
Outwittens o' onie body,
And kiss'd his bonnie lady.
We drank wine in a cogie;
And vow but I was vogie!
Since I cam frae my daddie;
When I was wi' his lady. .
And hap'd me wi' a plaidie;
Where I lay like to swarf wi' fear,
And wish'd me wi' my daddie.
I staid till I was ready;
To see his bonnie lady.
FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.
Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Now a sad and last adieu !
Bonnie Doon, sae sweet at gloaming,
First I weav'd the rustic sang.
First enthrall’d this heart o' mine;
Sweets that mem’ry ne'er shall tyne.
Ye hae render'd moments dear;
Then the stroke, O how severe !
* “ This story was founded on fact. A John HUNTER, ancestor to a very respectable farming family who live in a place in the parish, I think, of Galston, called Barr-mill, was the luck. less hero that “had a horse and had nae mair.”.
"For some little youthful follies, he found it necessary to make a retreat to the West-Highlands, where “ he fee'd himself to a Highland Laird,” for that is the expression of all the oral editions of the song I ever heard.--The present Mr. HUNTER, who told me the anecdote, is the great grand-child to our hero."-Burns.
Friends, that parting tear reserve it,
Though 'tis doubly dear to me;
How much happier would I be!
Scenes of wo, and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew:
Now a sad and last adieu.
* This song, written by Mr. RICHARD GALL, a Printer in E. dinburgh, but now dead, “ has acquired a high degree of praise, from its having been printed amongst the works of Burns, and generally thought the production of that poet. The reverse, indeed, was only known to a few of Mr. Gall's friends, to whom he communicated the verses before they were published. The fame of BURNS stands in no need of the aid of others to support it; and to render back the song in question to its true author, is but an act of distributive justice, due alike to both these departed poets, whose ea are now equally insensible to the incense of flattery, or the slanders of malevolence. At the time when the Scots Musical Museum was published at Edinburgh by Mr. JOHNSON, several of Burns's songs made their appearance in that publication. Mr. Gall wrote this song, intitled Farewell to Ayrshire, prefixed Burns's name to it, and sent it anonymously to the Publisher of that work. From thence it has been copied into the later editions of the works of BURNs. In publishing the song in this manner, Mr. Gall probably thought that it might, under the sanction of a name known to the world, acquire that notice, which, in other circumstances, might have made its fate to be to waste its sweetness in the desert air.'» -At the time the first No. of this work went to press, the Editor was not aware that Mr. Gall was also the author of My only Jo and Dearie, O, though he has since learned that this was the case, Should the reader wish to obtain any further particulars respect. ing Mr. Gall, he may consult the Biographia Scotica, whence the above information is derived.
AH! WAES ME, LOV'D JEANIE.
TUNE_" Robin Adair."
Thy friends, and parent dear,
And deeply mourn.
Thy death, sweetest maid ! writhes my bosom wi' pain;
Since thou art frae me fled,
I'll mournfu' stain.
Yes, since thou art lonely laid low in that bed,
Affection's tender ca',
By thy lov'd side.
Ye sangsters that chant in Glen-Dawin, sweet glen!
While thus I breathe my lays,
In plaintive strain.
In pensive mournfu' key,
Tears sad let fa'.
For never again while the sun gilds the morn,
Ne'er shall a maiden fair,
Cheer me forlorn. *
Pe auld as Pothwel prig, man;
Amang the Lawland whig, man.
First when her to the Lowlands cam,
Nainsel was driving cows, man:
About the preeks or trouse, man.
Nainsel did wear the philapeg,
The plaid prik’t on her shouder;
The pistol sharg'd wi' pouder.
Wherewith mans narse be lockit,
For a' her houghs pe prokit.
* This song is by the author of The Banks of Glaizart, and My Mary, 0. It was written for a young friend of the author's on the death of his sweetheart. Glen Dawin, mentioned in the 4th verse, is a small romantic glen adjoining that of the Clachan, for which the reader may consult the note on The Banks of Glaizart, page 44.