The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Ii Part 17

Now the plantin' taps are tinged wi' goud, on yon burn side, And gloamin' draws her foggy shroud o'er yon burn side; Far frae the noisy scene, I 'll through the fields alane, There we 'll meet, my ain dear Jean, down by yon burn side.

[80] The poet and one of his particular friends, Charles Marshall (whose son, the Rev. Charles Marshall, of Dunfermline, is author of a respectable volume, ent.i.tled "Lays and Lectures"), had met one evening in a tavern, kept by Tom Buchanan, near the cross of Paisley. The evening was enlivened by song-singing; and the landlord, who was present, sung the old song, beginning, "There grows a bonny brier-bush,"

which he did with effect. On their way home together, Marshall remarked that the words of the landlord's song were vastly inferior to the tune, and humorously suggested the following burlesque parody of the first stanza:--

"There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard, There 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard, They were set by Charlie Marshall, And pu'd by Nannie Laird, Yet there 's mony a dainty cabbage-stock in our kail-yard."

He added that Tannahill would do well to compose suitable words for the music. The hint sufficed; the friends met after a fortnight's interval, when the poet produced and read the song of "Yon burn side." It immediately became popular. Marshall used to relate this anecdote with much feeling. He died in March 1851, at the age of fourscore.

THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER.[81]

AIR--_"Bonny Dundee."_

Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw; How changed frae the time when I met wi' my lover, Amang the broom bushes by Stanley-green shaw: The wild flowers o' summer were spread a' sae bonnie, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' nature and me.

Then ilk thing around us was blythesome and cheery, Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw; Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw.

The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie, They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee, And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie, 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me.

Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae; While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.

'Tis no its loud roar on the wintry winds swellin', 'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e, For, O, gin I saw but my bonny Scots callan', The dark days o' winter were summer to me!

[81] The Braes of Gleniffer are a tract of hilly ground, to the south of Paisley. They are otherwise known as Stanley Braes.

THROUGH CROCKSTON CASTLE'S LANELY WA'S.[82]

AIR--_"Crockston Castle."_

Through Crockston Castle's lanely wa's The wintry wind howls wild and dreary; Though mirk the cheerless e'ening fa's, Yet I hae vow'd to meet my Mary.

Yes, Mary, though the winds should rave Wi' jealous spite to keep me frae thee, The darkest stormy night I 'd brave, For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.

Loud o'er Cardonald's rocky steep, Rude Cartha pours in boundless measure; But I will ford the whirling deep, That roars between me and my treasure.

Yes, Mary, though the torrent rave, Wi' jealous spite, to keep me frae thee, Its deepest flood I 'd bauldly brave, For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.

The watch-dog's howling loads the blast, And makes the nightly wand'rer eerie; But when the lonesome way is past, I 'll to this bosom clasp my Mary!

Yes, Mary, though stern winter rave, With a' his storms, to keep me frae thee, The wildest dreary night I 'd brave, For ae sweet secret moment wi' thee.

[82] The ruin of Crockston Castle is situated on the brow of a gentle eminence, about three miles south-east of Paisley. The Castle, in the twelfth century, was possessed by a Norman family, of the name of Croc; it pa.s.sed, in the following century, by the marriage of the heiress, into a younger branch of the House of Stewart, who were afterwards enn.o.bled as Earls of Lennox. According to tradition, Queen Mary and Lord Darnley occasionally resided in the castle; and it is reported that the unfortunate princess witnessed from its walls the fall of her fortunes at the battle of Langside. Crockston Castle is now the possession of Sir John Maxwell, Bart., of Pollock.

THE BRAES O' BALQUHITHER.[83]

AIR--_"The Three Carls o' Buchanan."_

Let us go, la.s.sie, go To the braes o' Balquhither, Where the blaeberries grow 'Mang the bonnie Highland heather; Where the deer and the rae, Lightly bounding together, Sport the lang summer day On the braes o' Balquhither.

I will twine thee a bower By the clear siller fountain, And I 'll cover it o'er Wi' the flowers o' the mountain; I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae dreary, And return wi' their spoils To the bower o' my dearie.

When the rude wintry win'

Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn On the night breeze is swelling; So merrily we 'll sing, As the storm rattles o'er us, Till the dear sheiling ring Wi' the light lilting chorus.

Now the summer is in prime, Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme A' the moorlands perfuming; To our dear native scenes Let us journey together, Where glad innocence reigns, 'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.

[83] A clerical friend has communicated to us the following stanza, which he heard sung by an old Highlander, as an addition to the "Braes o' Balquhither:"--

"While the lads of the south Toil for bare worldly treasure-- To the lads of the north Every day brings its pleasure: Oh, blithe are the joys That the Highlandman possesses, He feels no annoys, For he fears no distresses."

GLOOMY WINTER 'S NOW AWA'.

AIR--_"Lord Balgonie's Favourite."_

Gloomy winter 's now awa'

Saft the westling breezes blaw, 'Mang the birks of Stanley-shaw, The mavis sings fu' cheery, O!

Sweet the crawflower's early bell Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, Blooming like thy bonny sel', My young, my artless dearie, O!

Come, my la.s.sie, let us stray O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae, Blithely spend the gowden day, 'Midst joys that never weary, O!

Towering o'er the Newton woods, Laverocks fan the snaw-white clouds, Siller saughs, wi' downy buds, Adorn the banks sae briery, O!

Round the sylvan fairy nooks, Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks, 'Neath the brae the burnie jouks, And ilka thing is cheery, O!

Trees may bud, and birds may sing, Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring, Joy to me they canna bring, Unless wi' thee, my dearie, O!

O! ARE YE SLEEPING, MAGGIE?

AIR--_"Sleepy Maggie."_