Said to have been written by the Rev. Dr. Strachan, late minister of Carnwath, although cer tainly grounded upon a song of older standing, the name of which is mentioned in the Tea-Table Miscel lany. The two first verses of the song appeared in Herd's Collection, 1776.

There is a tradition at Leith that Tibbie Fowler was

venteenth century, to the representative of the attaint. ed family of Logan of Restalrig, whose town-house, dated 1656, is still pointed out at the head of a street in Leith, called the Sheriff-brae. The marriage.comtract between Logan and Isabella Fowler is still extant, in the possession of a gentleman resident at Leith.See Campbell's History of Leith, note, p. 314.

Twa cam down the lang dyke-side: There's twa-and-thirty wooin' at her. Wooin' at her, &c.

There's seven but, and seven ben,
Seven in the pantry wi' her;
Twenty head about the door :

There's ane-and-forty wooin' at her.
Wooin' at her, &c.

She's got pendles in her lugs;

Cockle-shells wad set her better ! High-heel'd shoon, and siller tags; And a' the lads are wooin' at her. Wooin' at her, &c.

Be a lassie e'er sae black,

Gin she hae the penny siller,

Set her up on Tintock tap,

The wind will blaw a man till her.
Wooin' at her, &c.

Be a lassie e'er sae fair,

An she want the penny siller, A flie may fell her in the air, Before a man be even'd till her. Wooin' at her, &c.

ANNIE LAURIE..

MAXWELTON banks are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew; Where me and Annie Laurie Made up the promise true; Made up the promise true,

And never forget will I; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'll lay me doun and die.

She's backit like the peacock;
She's breistit like the swan;
She's jimp about the middle;

Her waist ye weel micht span:
Her waist ye well micht span,
And she has a rolling eye;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'll lay me doun and die.

These two verses, which are in a style wonderfully tender and chaste for their age, were written by a Mr. Douglas of Fingland, upon Anne, one of the four daughters of Sir Robert Laurie, first Baronet of Maxwelton, by his second wife, who was a daughter of Riddell of Minto. As Sir Robert was created a baronet in the year 1685, it is probable that the verses were composed about the end of the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century. It is painful to record, that, notwithstanding the ardent and chivalrous affection displayed by Mr. Douglas in his poem, he did not obtain the heroine for a wife: She was married to Mr. Ferguson of Craigdarroch.-See "A Ballad Book," (printed at Edinburgh in 1824), p. 107.

And name a thousand bonnie tnings,

And ca' them signs he lo'es me.
But I'd prefer a smack o' Rob,
Seated on the velvet fog,
To gifts as lang's a plaiden web;

Because I ken he lo'es me.

He's tall and sonsie, frank and free,
Lo'ed by a', and dear to me;
Wi' him I'd live, wi' him I'd dee,
Because my Robin lo’es me.
My tittie Mary said to me,
Our courtship but a joke wad be,
And I or lang be made to see

That Robin didna lo'e me.

But little kens she what has been, Me and my honest Rob between ; And in his wooing, O sae keen Kind Robin is that lo'es me. Then fly, ye lazy hours, away, And hasten on the happy day,

When, Join your hands, Mess John will say, And mak him mine that lo'es me.

Till then, let every chance unite
To fix our love and give delight,

And I'll look down on such wi' spite,
Wha doubt that Robin lo'es me.

O hey, Robin! quo' she,

O hey, Robin! quo' she,

O hey, Robin! quo' she;
Kind Robin lo'es me.

THE POETS, WHAT FOOLS THEY'RE TO DEAVE US.

ROBERT GILFILLAN.

Tune-" Fy, let us a' to the bridal."

THE poets, what fools they're to deave us,
How ilka ane's lassie's sae fine;

The tane is an angel-and, save us!
The neist ane you meet wi's divine!
And then there's a lang-nebbit sonnet,
Be't Katie, or Janet, or Jean;
And the moon, or some far-awa planet's
Compared to the blink o' her een.

The earth an' the sea they've ransackit
For sim❜lies to set off their charms;
And no a wee flow'r but's attackit

By poets, like bumbees, in swarms.
Now, what signifies a' this clatter,

By chiels that the truth winna tell? Wad it no be settlin' the matter,

To say, Lass, ye're just like your sell?

An' then there's nae end to the evil,
For they are no deaf to the din-
That like me ony puir luckless deevil

Daur scarce look the gate they are in !

But e'en let them be, wi' their scornin': There's a lassie whase name I could tell; Her smile is as sweet as the mornin'But whisht! I am ravin' mysell.

But he that o' ravin's convickit,

When a bonnie sweet lass he thinks on, May he ne'er get anither strait jacket Than that buckled to by Mess John! An' he wha-though cautious an' cannyThe charms o' the fair never saw, Though wise as King Solomon's grannie, I swear is the daftest of a'.

'TWAS WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBURGH TOWN.

Tune-"Within a mile of Edinburgh."

'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town, In the rosy time of the year;

Sweet flowers bloom'd, and the grass was down, And each shepherd woo'd his dear.

Bonny Jockey, blythe, and gay, Kiss'd sweet Jenny, making hay, The lassie blush'd, and frowning, cried, "No, no, it will not do;

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buc kle too."

Jockey was a wag that never would wed,

Though long he had followed the lass; Contented she earned and eat her own bread, And merrily turn'd up the grass.

Bonny Jockey, blythe and free,
Won her heart right merrily:

Yet still she blush'd, and frowning, cried, "No, no, it will not do;

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle too."

But when he vow'd he would make her his bride,

Though his flocks and herds were not few, She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside, And vow'd she'd for ever be true.

Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, Won her heart right merrily. At church she no more frowning, cried, "No, no, it will not do;

I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buo kle too."

MY LUVE'S IN GERMANIE.

Tune-" My luve's in Germanie."

My Juve's in Germanie ;
Send him hame, send him hame;
My luve's in Germanie ;
Send him hame.