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Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in

his ee,

Said, “ Jenny, for their sakes, O marry me.”

My heart it said nay, I look'd for Jamie back,
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a

The ship it was a wrack, why didna Jenny die,

And why do I live to say, waes me?

My father argued sair, tho' my mither didna speak, She look'd in my face till my heart was like to

break; So they gi'ed him my hand, tho' my heart was in the

sea, And auld Robin Gray is gudeman to me.

I hadna been a wife a week but only four,

When sitting sae mournfully at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I coudna think it he,

'Till he said, “ I'm come back for to marry thee.”

O sair did we greet, and mickle did we say,

We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away, I wish I were dead! but I'm no like to die,

And why do I live to say, waes me!

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin, i

I darena think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I'll do my best a gudewife to be;

For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.


* Mr. Pinkerton, after observing that none of the “Scotch amatory ballads," as he remembers, “ are written by ladies;" and that the “profligacy of manners which always reigns before women can so utterly forget all sense of decency and propriety as to commence authors, yet almost unknown in Scotland,” adds, in a note, that “there is, indeed, of very late years, one insignificant exception to this rule: Auld Robin Gray, having got his silly psalm set to soporific music, is, to the credit of our taste, popular for the day. But after lulling some good-natured audiences asleep, he will soon fall asleep himself.” Little Rit. son, with a becoming boldness and indignation at the author of these ungracious and ungallant remarks, steps forward with his accustomed Bantom-cock courage, and thus strikes at the hard forehead of Pinkerton. “ Alas! this silly psalm' will continue to be sung, to the credit of our taste,' long after the author of this equally ridiculous and malignant paragraph shall be as completely forgotten as yesterday's Ephemeron, and his printed trash be only occasionally discernible at the bottom of a pye. Of the 24 Scotish Song-writers whose names are préserved, four, if not five, are females; and, as poetesses, two more might be added to the number.”

At the time Mr. Pinkerton made this unmanly remark, he must have been aware that an examination of the characters of our principal female authors would have convinced him of its fallacy. Nor would 'he find many instances at the present day, to bear him out in it; and the spotless and ho.



to arms.

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The expression, “Up and warn a' Willie," alludes to the Crantara, or warning of a Highland Clan

Not understanding this, the Lowlanders in the west and south say, Up and waur them a," &c. This edition of the song I got from Tom Niel,* of facetious fame, in Edinburgh.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
To hear my canty highland sang,

Relate the thing I saw, Willie.

nourable names of Baillie, More, Edgeworth, Hamilton, &c. ought to shame him into the disavowal of a sentiment so malicious and unjust; a sentiment which gives an air of truth to what in the following extract would otherwise have appeared an hyperbole. It is addressed by a distinguished writer to a bookseller of eminence in Edinburgh.—" It is very true, my friend, that literary imposture is not entirely confined to your side of the Tweed:- but evil communications, you know,

corrupt good manners. It is a curious fact, that the name of • John PINKERTON' should be found in the list of those orthodox antiquaries who have certified their belief in the authenticity of the Shakespeare papers. Was the fellow really taken in ? or is it a point of honor in one forger to countenance another?”

* Tom Neil was a carpenter in Edinburgh, and lived chiefly by making coffins. He was also Precentor, or Clerk, in one of the churches. He had a good strong voice, and was greatly distinguished by his powers of mimicry, and his humorous manner of singing the old Scotish ballads.

When we gaed to the braes o' Mar,

And to the wapon-shaw, Willie, Wi' true design to serve the king, And banish whigs awa, Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
For lords and lairds came there bedeen,

And wow but they were braw, Willie.

But when the standard was set up,

Right fierce the wind did blaw, Willie; The royal nit upon the tap Down to the ground did fa', Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
Then second-sighted Sandy said,

We'd do nae gude at a', Willie.

But when the army join'd at Perth,

The bravest e'er ye saw, Willie, We didna doubt the rogues to rout, Restore our king and a', Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
The pipers play'd frae right to left,

O whirry whigs awa, Willie.

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But when we march'd to Sherra-muir,

And there the rebels saw, Willie,
Brave Argyle attack'd our right,
Our flank and front and a', Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
Traitor Huntly soon gave way,

Seaforth, St. Clair and a', Willie
But brave Glengary on our right,

The rebels' left did claw, Willie; He there the greatest slaughter made That ever Donald saw, Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
And Whittam s-t his breeks for fear,

And fast did rin awa, Willie.
For he ca'd us a Highland mob,

And soon he'd slay us a', Willie,
But we chas'd him back to Stirling brig,
Dragoons and foot and a', Willie.

Up and warn a', Willie,

Warn, warn a';
At length we rallied on a hill,

And briskly up did draw, Willie.
But when Argyle did view our line,

And them in order saw, Willie,

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