GUDE NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YOU A'.

SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL.

GUDE night, and joy be wi' you a';

Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart:
May life's fell blasts out ower ye blaw;
In sorrow may you never part!
My spirit lives, but strength is gone,
The mountain fires now blaze in vain ;
Remember, sons, the deeds I've done,
And in your deeds I'll live again.

When on your muir a gallant clan
Frae boasting foes their banners tore,
Wha show'd himself a better man,
Or fiercer waved the red claymore?

But when in peace-then mark me there-
When through the glen the wanderer came,
gave him of our lordly fare,

I

I gave him here a welcome hame.

The auld will speak, the young maun hear;
Be cantie, but be guid and leal;
Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear,
Another's aye hae heart to feel.
So, ere I set, I'll see you shine,
I'll see your triumph ere I fa';

My parting breath shall boast you mine ;—

Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'!

Suggested evidently by Burns's song, "This night is my departing night."

AULD GUDEMAN: A MATRIMONIAL DUET.

SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL.

"AULD gudeman, ye're a drunken carle, drunken carle! A' the lang day ye wink and drink, and gape and gaunt; O' sottish loons ye're the pink and pearl, pink and pearl, Ill-far'd, doited ne'er-do-weel."

Hech, gudewife! ye're a flyting body, flyting body; Will ye hae; but, Guid be praised, the wit ye want. The puttin' cow should be aye a doddy, aye a doddy; Mak' na sic an awsome reel."

"Ye're a sow, auld man;

Ye get fou, auld man ;
Fie for shame, auld man,

Το

your wame, auld man; Pinch'd I win, wi' spinnin' tow,

A plack to cleid your back and pow."

"It's a lie, gudewife;
It's your tea, gudewife;
Na, na, gudewife,

Ye spend a', gude wife.
Dinna fa' on me pell-mell,

Ye like the drap fu' weel yoursell."

"Ye's rue, auld gowk, your jest and frolic, jest and frolic;
Dare ye say, goose, I ever liked to tak' a drappy?
An' 'twerena just to cure the colic, cure the colic,
Deil a drap wad weet my mou'."

"Troth, gudewife, an' ye wadna swither, wadna swither, Soon to tak' a colic, when it brings a drap o' cappy;

But twascore years we hae fought thegither, fought thegither; Time it is to gree, I trow."

"I'm wrang, auld John;
Ower lang, auld John,
For nought, gude John,

We hae fought, gude John ;
Let's help to bear ilk ither's weight,
We're far ower feckless now to fight."

"Ye're richt, gude Kate;

The nicht, gude Kate,
Our cup, gude Kate,

We'll sup, gude Kate;

Thegither frae this hour we'll draw,

And toom the stoop atween us twa."

THE YEAR THAT'S AWA'.

MR. DUNLOP. Air-"It's good to be off wi' the old love."

HERE'S to the year that's awa'!

We will drink it in strong and in sma';
And here's to ilk bonnie young lassie we lo'ed,
While swift flew the year that's awa'.
And here's to ilk, &c.

Here's to the sodger who bled,

And the sailor who bravely did fa';
Their fame is alive, though their spirits are fled
On the wings of the year that's awa'.
Their fame is alive, &c.

Here's to the friends we can trust

When the storms of adversity blaw;

May they live in our song, and be nearest our hearts, Nor depart like the year that's awa'.

May they live, &c.

HERE'S TO YOU AGAIN.

ALEXANDER RODGER. Air-Toddlin frame."

(From "Whistle Binkie," third series. Glasgow, 1842.)

LET votaries o' Bacchus o' wine make their boast,
And drink till it mak' them as dead's a bed-post;
A drap o' maut broe I wad far rather pree,
And a rosy-faced landlord's the Bacchus for me.
Then I'll toddle but and I'll toddle ben,

And let them drink at wine wha nae better do ken.

Your wine it may do for the bodies far south,

But a Scotsman likes something that bites i' the mouth,
And whisky's the thing that can do't to a tee,
Then Scotsmen and whisky will ever agree;
For wi' toddlin' but and toddlin' ben,

Sae lang we've been nursed on't we hardly can spean.

It's now thretty years since I first took the drap,
To moisten my carcase and keep it in sap;

And though what I've drunk might hae slacken'd the sun, I find I'm as dry as when first I begun;

For wi' toddlin' but and toddlin' ben,

I'm nae sooner slacken'd than drouthy again.

Your douse folk aft ca' me a tipplin' auld sot,
A worm to a still, a sand-bed, and what not;

They cry that my hand wad ne'er bide frae my mouth;
But, oddsake! they never consider my drouth;

Yet I'll toddle but an' I'll toddle ben,

An' laugh at their nonsense wha nac better ken.

Some hard-grippin' mortals wha deem themselves wise,
A glass o' gude whisky affect to despise ;

Poor scurvy-soul'd wretches, they're no very blate,
Besides, let me tell them, they're foes to the state;
For wi' toddlin but and toddlin' ben,

Gin folk wadna drink, how could government fen'?

Yet wae on the tax that maks whisky sae dear,
An' wae on the gauger sae strict an' severe;
Had I but my will o't, I'd soon let you see,
That whisky, like water, to a' should be free;
For I'd toddle but an' I'd toddle ben,

And I'd mak' it rin like the burn after rain.

What signifies New'r day ?--a mock at the best,

That tempts but poor bodies and leaves them unblest? For ance-a-year fuddle I'd scarce gi'e a strae,

Unless that ilk year were as short as a day;

Then I'd toddle but an' I'd toddle ben,

Wi' the hearty het pint and the canty black hen.

I ne'er was inclined to lay-by ony cash,

Weel kennin' it only wad breed me more fash

But aye when I had it I let it

gang free,

And wad toss for a gill wi' my hindmost bawbec;
For wi' toddlin' but an' toddlin' ben,

I ne'er kent the use o't but only to spen'.

Had siller been made in the kist to lock by,
It ne'er wad been rund, but square as a die;
Whereas by its shape ilka body may see,
It aye was design'd it should circulate free;
Then we'll toddle but an' we'll toddle ben,
when we get it, we'll part wi't again.

An' aye

I ance was persuaded to "put in the pin,"
But foul fa' the bit o't ava wad bide in;
For whisky's a thing sae bewitchingly stout,
The first time I smelt it, the pin it lap out;
Then I toddled but an' I toddled ben,
And I vow'd I wad ne'er be advised sae again.

Oh, leeze me on whisky! it gi'es us new life,
It maks us aye cadgy to cuddle the wife;
It kindles a spark in the breast o' the cauld,
And it maks the rank coward courageously bauld;
Then we'll toddle but an' we'll toddle ben,

An' we'll coup aff our glasses, "Here's to you again!"