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Wi' quaffing and laughing,

They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping,

The very girdle rang.

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as any fortuitous assembly in the higher orders of life.

The group, it must be observed, is of Scottish character, ( and doubtless our northern brethren are more familiar with

its varieties than we are; yet the distinctions are too well 'marked to escape even the South’ron. The most promi. ' nent persons are a maimed soldier and his female compa. • nion, a hackneyed follower of the camp, a stroller, late

the consort of an Highland ketterer or sturdy beggar,-" but weary fa’ the waefu’ woodie !”—Being now at liber.

ty, she becomes an object of rivalry between a pigmy scraper with his fiddle,' and a strolling tinker. The lat. ter, a desperate bandit, like most of his profession, terri.

fies the musician out of the field, and is preferred by the damsel of course. A wandering ballad-singer, with a

brace of doxies, is last introduced upon the stage. Each of these mendicants sings a song in character, and such a collection of humorous lyrics, connected by vivid poetical description, is not, perhaps, to be paralleled in the English language. As the collection and the poem are very little known in England, and as it is certainly apposite to

the Reliques of Robert Burns, we venture to transcribe . the concluding ditty, chaunted by the ballad singer at the


First, neist the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat; weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,

And knapsack a' in order ;

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request of the company, whose mirth and fun have now 6

grown fast and furious,' and set them above all sublunary terrors of jails, stocks, and whipping posts. It is cer. tainly far superior to any thing in the Beggars Opera, where alone we could expect to find its parallel.

" Then owre again the jovial thrang,

"6 The poet did request,
" To lowse his pack and wale a sang,

" A ballad o' the best," &c. &c. ( We are at a loss to conceive any good reason why Dr • Currie did not introduce this singular and humorous can.

tata into his collection. It is true, that in one or two pas. sages the Muse has trespassed slightly upon decorum, where, in the language of Scottish song,

“ High kilted was she

" As she gaed owre the lea.” • Something however is to be allowed to the nature of the

subject, and something to the education of the poet; and ( if, from veneration to the names of Swift and Dryden, we

tolerate the grossness of the one, and the indelicacy of the other, the respect due to that of Burns, may surely claim indulgence for a few light strokes of broad humour. The same collection contains Holy Willie's Prayer,' a piece of satire more exquisitely severe than any which Burns after. wards wrote.'-QUARTELRY REVIEW, No. I. p. 20-22.

His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm,

She blinket on her sodger :
An' ay he gies the tozie drab

The tither skelpin' kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab
Just like an aumos dish.

Ilk smack still, did crack still,

Just like a cadger's whip,
Then staggering and swaggering

He roar'd this ditty up


I. I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come; This here was for a wench, and that other in a

trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.


II. My prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd

his last, When the bloody die was cast on the heights of

Abram ; I served out my trade when the gallant game was

play'd, And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

III. I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt’ries, And there I left for witness an arm and a limb; Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me, I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

IV. And now tho' I must beg with a wooden arm and

leg, And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my

callet, As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.

V. What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the win

ter shocks, Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle


I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of the drum.

Lal de daudle, &c.


He ended ; and the kebars sheuk,

Aboon the chorus roar;
While frighted rattons backward leuk,

And seek the benmost bore;
A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,

He skirl'd out encore !
But up arose the martial chuck,

And laid the loud uproar.


I once was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when,
And still my delight is in proper young men ;

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