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I whistled, I pip'd, and I sang;

I woo'd, but I cam nae great speed:
Therefore I maun wander abroad,

And lay my banes far frae the Tweed.
To Maggy my luve I did tell;

My tears did my passion express :
Alas! for I loo'd her owre weel,

And the women loo sic a man less.
Her heart it was frozen and cauld,

Her pride had my ruin decreed;
Therefore I maun wander abroad,

And lay my banes far frae the Tweed. *


TUNE" Green grow the rashes."
Fairfa' the lasses, O!
Fairfa' the lasses, O!
And dool and care still be his share,

Wha doesna loo the lasses, 0!
Pale poverty an' girnin' care,

How lang will ye harass us, O?
Yet light's the load we hae to bear,
If lessen'd by the lasses, o !

Fairfa', &c.

The rich may sneer as they gae by,

Or scornfully may pass us, O!
Their better lot let's ne'er envy,
But live and love the lasses, o !

Fairfa, fc.

* The song here given lays claim to being the original Tweedside, and is said to have been composed by a Lord Yester.


Why should we ever sigh for wealth?

Sic thoughts shou'd never fash us, 0;
A fig for pelf, when blest wi' health,
Content, an' bonnie lasses, O!

Fairfa', &c.
The ancient Bards, to shaw their skill,

Plac'd Muses on Parnassus, 0;
But let them fable as they will,
My Muses are the lasses, O!

Fairfa', &c.
The drunkard cries, the joys o'wine

A' ither mirth surpasses, 0,
But he ne'er kent the bliss divine,
That I hae wi' the lasses, O!

Fairfa', 8c.
When I am wi' the chosen few,

The time fu' quickly passes, O,
But days are hours, an' less, I trow,
When I am wi' the lasses, O.

Fairfa', 8c.
When joys abound, then let a round

Of overflowing glasses, 0,
Gae brisk about, an' clean drink out;
The toast be—“ Bonnie lasses,” O !

Fairfa' the lasses, 0!
Fairfathe lasses, 0!
And dool and care still be his share,
Wha winna toast the lasses, 0!

THE YELLOW HAIR'D LADDIE. In April, when primroses paint the sweet plain, And summer, approaching, rejoiceth the swain,

The yellow hair'd laddie would oftentimes go,
To wilds and deep glens where the hawthorn trees grow.

There under the shade of an old sacred thorn,
With freedom he sung his loves, ev’ning and morn:
He sung with so soft and enchanting a sound,
That sylvans and fairies, unseen, danc'd around.

The shepherd thus sung: Tho' young Maddie be fair,
Her beauty is dash'd with a scornful proud air;
But Susie was handsome, and sweetly could sing;
Her breath like the breezes perfum'd in the spring :-
That Maddie, in all the gay bloom of her youth,
Like the moon, was inconstant, and never spoke truth;
But Susie was faithful, good-humour'd, and free,
And fair as the goddess that sprung from the sea :-
That mamma's fine daughter, with all her great dow'r,
Was awkwardly airy, and frequently sour:
Then sighing, he wish’d, would but parents agree,
The witty, sweet Susie, his mistress might be.


Ca' the ewes to the knowes,
Ca' them whare the heather grows,
Cathem whare the burnie rows,

My bonnie dearie.
As I gaed down the water side,
There I met my shepherd lad,
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
And ca'd me his dearie.
Cathe ewes, &c.

Will ye gang down the water side,
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
The moon it shines fu' clearly.

Ca the ewes, &c.
I was bred up at nae sic school,
My shepherd lad, to play the fool;
And a the day to sit in dool,
And nae body to see me.

Ca' the ewes, &c.
Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet,
Cauf leather shoon upon your feet;
And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep,
And ye shall be my dearie.

Ca the ewes, &c.
If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
l'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad;
And ye may row me in your plaid,
And I shall be your dearie.

Ca' the ewes, &c.
While waters wimple to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
Till cauld death shall blin' my ee,
Ye shall be my dearie.

Ca' the ewes, &c. *

* The only information the Editor has been able to collect respecting this piece, is contained in the following passages from the Works of Burns. First, In a note upon it, as published in Johnson's Musical Museum, he says" This beautiful song is in the true old Scottish taste; yet I do not know that either air, or words, were in print before." Second, In a letter to Mr. THOMPSON, the Editor of another Musical work published subsequently to Johnson's, he writes," I am flattered at your a

As I came by Loch-Erroch side,

The lofty hills surveying,
The water clear, the heather blooms,

Their fragrance sweet conveying,
I met, unsought, my lovely maid,

I found her like May morning ;
With graces sweet, and charms so rare,

all adorning.

Her person

How kind her looks, how blest was I,

While in my arms I press'd her!
And she her wishes scarce conceald,

As fondly I caress'd her.
She said, If that your heart be true,

If constantly you'll love me,
I heed not care, nor fortune's frowns,

For nought but death shall move me.

But faithful, loving, true, and kind,

For ever you shall find me,
And of our meeting here so sweet,

Loch-Erroch sweet shall mind me.
Enraptur'd then, My lovely lass,

I cried, no more we'll tarry!
We'll leave the fair Loch-Erroch side,

For lovers soon should marry.

dopting Cathe ewes to the knowes, as it was owing to me that ever it saw the light. About seven years ago I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman, a Mr. CluNIE, who sung it charmingly; and, at my request, Mr. CLARKE took it down from his singing. When I gave it to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song, and mended others.”

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