aoderate-minded men lament his own subordination

of judgment to spleen.

WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair?

Flit, Galloway, and find

Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,

The picture of thy mind!

No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

BRIGHT ran thy line, O Galloway,
Through many a far-famed sire:
So ran the far-famed Roman way,
So ended in a mire.

On being informed [misinformed?] that the Earl threatened him with his resentment.

SPARE me thy vengeance, Galloway,

In quiet let me live:

I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.

OLD SONGS, IMPROVED BY BURNS

FROM JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.

O WHARE DID YOU GET?

TUNE- Bonny Dundee.

The air of Bonny Dundee appears in the Skene MS., of date circa 1620. The tune seems to have existed at even an earlier period, as there is a song to it amongst those which were written by the English to disparage the Scottish followers by whom James VI. was attended on his arrival in the south. The first of the following verses is from an old homely ditty, the second only being the composition of Burns.

O WHARE did you get that hauver meal oatmeal

O silly blind body, O dinna ye see? I gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie, Between St. Johnston and bonny Dundee. O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't! Aft has he doudled me upon his knee; May Heaven protect my bonny Scots laddie, And send him safe hame o his babie and me

dandled

My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie,

My blessin's upon thy bonny e'e-bree! Thy smiles are sae like my blithe sodger laddie, Thou's aye the dearer and dearer to me! But I'll big a bower on yon bonny banks, Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear; winding And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine, And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.

I AM MY MAMMY'S AE BAIRN.

TUNE-I'm oure young to Marry yet.

I AM my mammy's ae bairn,
Wi' unco folk I weary, sir;

strange

And if I gang to your house,
I'm fleyed 'twill make me eerie, sir.
I'm owre young to marry yet;

I'm owre young to marry yet;
I'm owre young-'twad be a sin

am afraid

To tak me frae my mammy yet.

Hallowmas is come and gane,

The nights are lang in winter, sir;
And you and I in wedlock's bands,
In troth, I dare na venture, sir.

Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind Blaws through the leafless timmer, sir; But if ye come this gate again,

I'll aulder be gin simmer, sir.

towards

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.

TUNE- Cold blows the Wind.

Written on the basis of an old song, the chorus of which is here preserved.

CHORUS.

UP in the morning's no for me,

Up in the morning early;

When a' the hills are covered wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;

Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn→
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

THERE WAS A LASS.

TUNE-Duncan Davison.

THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that followed her,

They ca'd him Duncan Davison.

The moor was dreigh, and Meg was tedious

skeigh,

Her favour Duncan could na win;

For wi' the rock she wad him knock,

timorous

And aye she took the temper-pin. regulating pin

As o'er the moor they lightly foor,

A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eased their shanks, And aye she set the wheel between: But Duncan swore a haly aith,

That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, And flang them a' out o'er the burn.

We'll big a house a wee, wee house,
And we will live like king and queen,

Sae blithe and merry we will be
When ye set by the wheel at e'en.

went

gear