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It gåed about the wifie's heart, and she began to spew, Oh! quo' the wee wifeikie, I wish I binna fou.
I wish I binna fou, quo' she, I wish I binna fou,
Oh! quo' the wee wifeikie, I wish I binna fou. If Johnnie find me barley-sick, I'm sure he'll claw my
skin; But I'll lie down and tak a nap before that I gae
in. Sitting at the dyke-side, and taking o' her nap, By cảme a packman wi' a little pack,
Wi' a little pack, quo' she, wi' a little pack,
By came a packman wi' a little pack. He's clippit a' her gowden locks sae bonnie and sae lang; He's taen her purse and a' her placks, and fast awa he And when the wifie waken'd, her head was like a bee, Oh ! quo' the wee wifeikie, this is nae me,
This is nae me, quo' she, this is nae me,
Somebody has been felling me, and this is nae me. I met with kindly company, and birl'd my babee ! And still, if this be Bessikie, three placks remain wi' me: But I will look the pursie nooks, see gin the cunzie be; There's neither purse nor plack about me!--this is nae
This is nae me, &c. But I have a little houseikie, but and a kindly man ; A dog, they ca' him Doussiekie; if this be me he'll faun, And Johnnie, he'll come to the door, and kindly wel.
come gie, And a' the bairns on the floor will dance if this be me.
This is nae me, &c. The night was late, and dang out weet, and oh but it
was dark; The doggie heard a body's foot, and he began to bark.
Oh when she heard the doggie bark, and kenning it
was he, Oh well ken ye, Doussie, quo' she, this is nae me.
This is näe me, &c. When Johnnie heard his Bessie's word, fast to the door
he ran ;
Is that you, Bessikie ?-Wow na, man!
This is nae me, &c.
piteously, Oh farewell, Johnnie, quo' she, this is nae me!
This is nae me, &c. The tale you tell, the parson said, is wonderful to me, How that a wife without a head could speak, or hear,
or see! But things that happen hereabout, so strangely alter'd be, That I could almost wi' Bessie
'tis neither she. Neither you nor she, quo' he, neither you nor she,
Wow na, Johnnie man, 'tis neither you nor she. Now Johnnie he came hame again, and oh! but he
was fain, To see his little Bessikie come to hersel again. He got her sitting on a stool with Tibbek on her knee: Oh! come awa, Johnnie, quo' she, come awa to me, For I've got a nap wi' Tibbekie, and this is now me.
This is now me, quo' she, this is now me, I've got a nap wi Tibbekie, and this is now me. * This excellent song is said to be the composition of the learned Dr. ALEXANDER. GEDDES, well known in the literary world for his translation of the Bible into English, and other works.
MARY-ANN. TUNE" Captain OʻKean,” or “ The Wounded Hussar." While Luna in splendor, wi' silver rays beaming, Illum'd, and in radiance adorn’d the green plain ; And while sportive meteors aerial were streaming, I hied me alone to yon wild woody glen. Along the sweet margin of Glaizart's rough stream, A youth full of anguish his plaint thus began; The tears of affection made plain his connexion, While dolefu' he sung of his love Mary-Ann. Why, once peerless maid, hast thou left me to wander, 'Mid scenery sae beauteous thus cheerless to mourn: Unto these woods wild, thro' which riv'lets meander, O sweetest of maids ! wilt thou never return? Ah no! never mair shall I see thy lov'd form !In yon
bless'd domain sae mysterious to man, (Nae cares thee annoying) thou’rt now peace enjoying, My lov’d, my lamented, my sweet Mary-Ann. Disconsolate now by these sweet banks o' Glaizart, Wi' my mind envelop'd amid clouds o' despair, P'll wander remote as if lone in some desart, And ’mang these wild scenes I'll bewail my lov’d fair. Now nothing, O wae's me! can soothe this my wo! When this he had breath'd out, his visage grew wan; While his eyes wild were beaming, I left him exclaiming, Adieu now earth's pleasures-farewell Mary-Ann. *
FAIREST OF THE FAIR.
The lowly cot, and russet gown?
* This piece is by the author of The Banks of Glaisart.
Nae langer drest in silken sheen,
Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare,
thou quit each courtly scene,
Wilt thou not cast a look behind?
Nor shrink before the warping wind?
Severest hardships learn to bear,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair?
Thro' perils keen wi' me to gae?
To share with him the pang of wae.
Wilt thou assume the nurse's care,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair ?
Wilt thou receive his parting breath?
And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear?
Where thou wast fairest of the fair ? *
* We are not aware under what particular circumstances this beautiful song was composed, nor who is the Nannie whom the learned author, Dr. Percy, Editor of The Reliques of Ancient Poetry, is pleased to designate Fairest of the Fair. This, however, cannot lessen our interest in the delicate delineation of the sacrifices love demands from his captives, to put the disinterestedness of their attachment to the test.
THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY.
The smiling morn, the breathing spring,
The lav'rocks now, and lintwhites sing;
Behold the hills and vales around,
Hark, how the waters, as they fall,