Gin ye had been whare I ha'e been,
Ye wadna been sae wantin';
I gat the lang girdin o't,

An' I fell thro' the gantrin.
O'er the hills and far away,

My bonnie winsome Willie ; Whare shall our gudeman lye? The gleed Earl of Kelly.

Dirum dum, &c.

Toddle but, and toddle ben,
Hey, Tam Brandy;

Crack a louse on Maggy's wean,
Little Cocky Bendy.
There's three sheep's skins,
The barber and his bason;
The bonnie lass o' Patie's Mill,
Wi' the free and accepted mason.
Dirum dum, &c.

On Ettrick banks, ae simmer night,
The cliffy rocks in view, man,
Kath'rine Ogie gat a fright,

'Mang Scotland's bells sae blue, man.
O waly, waly, up yon wood,
And down by bonnie Yarrow,
The lassie lost her silken snood
Wi' Will her winsome marrow.
Dirum dum, &c.

Stately stapt he east the wa',

The lad I darena name, man;
Geordie reigns in Charlie's ha';

Send Lewie Gordon hame, man;
In winter when the rain rain'd cauld,
Will brew'd a peck o' maut, man;
John Anderson, ye're growing auld,
Pit a sheep's head i' the pat, man.
Dirum dum, &c.

The tailor cam to clout the claise
Upon a Lammas night, man,
Which caus'd the battle o' the fleas,
And shaw'd M'Craw's great might, man;
John Tamson at the key-hole keeks,
My wife's a wanton pawky,
She's clouting Johnny's grey breeks,
And Bess she's but a gawky.

Dirum dum, &c.

In Fife there liv'd a wicked wife,
And she has taen the gee, man;
The door-barring caus'd the strife,
And Sandy o'er the lee, man;
Tarry woo frae Tweedside came,
Frae Aberdeen cauld kail, man,
Made gude Scotch brose to fill our wame,
Could Donald M'Donald fail, man.
Dirum dum, &c.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot?
Sae merry's we ha'e been, man;
Yet still on Menie's charms I doat,
At Polwart on the green, man;
Willie was a wanton wag.

And push'd about the jorum,
While Rab the ranter burst his bag
Playing the Reel of Tullochgorum.
Dirum dum, &c.

1

THE

POCKET ENCYCLOPEDIA,

&c.

MISCELLANEOUS SONGS.

VOL. II.

THE

POCKET ENCYCLOPEDIA,

&c.

Miscellaneous Songs.

LAMENT FOR ABERCROMBIE.

TUNE-" Humours of Glen."

WHEN Nature with wild-flowers bespangled the mountains,

And meadows display'd a' their charms to the bee; When pure gush'd the rills by their grass-border'd fountains,

And saft sough'd the wind through the bloom-laden tree;

Beneath yon auld aik, on the green banks o' Clouden,
Whare aft in the gloamin' I wander'd to rave,
Auld Malcolm was seen, o'er his scars fondly broodin',
Lamenting a warrior laid cauld in his grave.

He stood by the stream, on a strong claymore leaning,
Like ane whase sad bosom o' sorrow is fou;
He strade o'er the gowans fu' mournfully maening,
And straight frae its scabbard his braid sword he drew: