Tune-" Robin lo'es me." ROBIN is my only jo, 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 For Robin has the art to lo'e; Riddell of Minto. As Sir Robert was created a baronet in the year 1685, it is probable that the verses Sae to his suit I mean to bow, 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. Because I ken he lo’es me. And kenn'd that Robin lo'ed me. They speak of napkins, speak of rings, And name a thousand bonnie tnings, And ca' them signs he lo'es me. He's tall and sonsie, frank and free, 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 And I'll look down on such wi' spite, O hey, Robin! quo' she, 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! The earth an' the sea they've ransackit By poets, like bumbees, in swarms. 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, But e'en let them be, wi' their scornin': 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, 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 bue kle too." MY LUVE'S IN GERMANIE. Tune-" My luve's in Germanie." My luve's in Germanie; My love's in Germanie, Send him hame, send him hame; He's as brave as brave can be ; Send him hame, send him hame; Our faes are ten to three ; Send him hame. Our faes are ten to three; He maun either fa' or flee, In the cause of loyalty; Send him hame, send him hame ; In the cause of loyalty; Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, Bonnie dame, winsome dame; Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, Your luve ne'er learnt to flee, Mournfu' dame, mournfu' dame; He'll ne'er come ower the sea; He will ne'er come ower the sea, When spring began its merry career, No foresight marred the miller's cheer, Then, like this miller, bold and free, The days of youth are made for glee, The song shall pass from me to you, Let heart, and hand, and voice agree : Yet, though he often sighed, he ne'er a word | Now ye peep like a powt; ye glumph and ye replied, Till all were asleep in bed. But what's come ower ye, Muirland Tam? tram; Your ee it's faun in-your nose it's faun out, O ance, like a yaud, ye spankit the bent, I mind sin' the blink o' a canty quean gaunt; Oh, Tammy, my man, are ye turned a saunt? Come, lowse your heart, ye man o' the muir; Oh! neebour, it neither was thresher nor thief, HAUD AWA FRAE ME DONALD. HAUD awa, bide awa! Haud awa frae me, Donald : But that was never thee, Donald. And claymore by thy knee, Donald, Haud awa, bide awa, Haud awa frae me, Donald, What sairs your mountains and your lochs, Is sunk beneath the sea, Donald, And take the hills wi' thee, Donald. One of the old verses runs thus: Haud awa, bide awa, Haud awa frae me, Donald, AULD ROB MORRIS. Tune-" Auld Rob Morris." MOTHER. AULD Rob Morris, that wons in yon glen, men; He has fourscore o' black sheep, and fourscore too; Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo’e. DAUGHTER. Haud your tongue, mother, and let that abee; MOTHER. Haud your tongue, dochter, and lay by your pride, DAUGHTER. Auld Rob Morris, I ken him fu' weel, MOTHER. Though auld Rob Morris be an elderly man, Yet his auld brass will buy you a new pan; Then, dochter, ye should na be sa ill to shoe, For auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e. DAUGHTER. But auld Rob Morris I never will hae, THE MALT-MAN. THE malt-man comes on Munday, Cries, Dame, come gi'e me my siller, And gave him some good cock-broo, When malt-men come for siller, And gaugers with wands o'er soon, Wives, tak them a' down to the cellar. And clear them as I have done. This bewith, when cunzie is scanty, Will keep them frae making din; The knack I learu'd frae an auld aunty, The snackest of a' my kin. The malt-man is right cunning, But I can be as slee, And he may crack of his winning, When he clears scores with me: For come when he likes, I'm ready; But if frae hame I be, THE AULD WIFE BEYONT THE FIRE. THERE was a wife won'd in a glen, That sought the house baith but and ben, The auld wife beyont the fire, Her mill into some hole had fawn, Whatrecks, quoth she, let it be gawn, For I maun hae a young goodman Shall furnish me with snishing. The auld wife, &c. Her eldest dochter said right bauld, Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld, And if ye with a younker wald, He'll waste away your snishing. The youngest dochter ga'e a shout, O mother dear! your teeth's a' out, Besides ha'f blind, you have the gout, Your mill can had nae snishing. The auld wife, &c. Ye lied, ye limmers, cries auld mump, For I hae baith a tooth and stump, And will nae langer live in dump, By wanting of my snishing. The auld wife, &c. Thole ye, says Peg, that pawky slut, Mother, if ye can crack a nut, Then we will a' consent to it, That you shall have a snishing. The auld wife, &c. The auld ane did agree to that, And they a pistol-bullet gat; She powerfully began to crack, To win hersell a snishing. The auld wife, &c. Braw sport it was to see her chow't, At last she ga'e a desperate squeez, She of the task began to tire, And frae her dochters did retire, Syne lean'd her down ayont the fire, And died for lack of snishing. The auld wife, &c. Ye auld wives, notice well this truth, Assoon as ye're past mark of mouth, Snishing, in its literal meaning, is snuff made of tobacco; but, in this song, it means sometimes contentment, a husband, love, money, &c. |