The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Ii Part 27

He humm'd and haw'd, the la.s.s cried "pheugh,"

And bade the coof no deave her, Syne crack'd her thumb, and lap and leugh, And dang the silly weaver.

[100] The origin of the air is somewhat amusing. The Rev. Mr Gardner, minister of Birse, in Aberdeenshire, known for his humour and musical talents, was one evening playing over on his Cremona the notes of an air he had previously jotted down, when a curious scene arrested his attention in the courtyard of the manse. His man "Jock," who had lately been a weaver in the neighbouring village, had rudely declined to wipe the minister's shoes, as requested by Mrs Gardner, when the enraged matron, s.n.a.t.c.hing a culinary utensil, administered a hearty drubbing to the shoulders of the impudent boor, and compelled him to execute her orders. The minister witnessing the proceeding from the window, was highly diverted, and gave the air he had just completed the t.i.tle of "Jenny Dang the Weaver." This incident is said to have occurred in the year 1746.

THE La.s.s O' ISLA.

"Ah, Mary, sweetest maid, farewell!

My hopes are flown, for a 's to wreck; Heaven guard you, love, and heal your heart, Though mine, alas, alas! maun break."

"Dearest lad, what ills betide?

Is Willie to his love untrue?

Engaged the morn to be his bride, Ah! hae ye, hae ye, ta'en the rue?"

"Ye canna wear a ragged gown, Or beggar wed wi' nought ava; My kye are drown'd, my house is down, My last sheep lies aneath the snaw."

"Tell na me o' storm or flood, Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill; For Willie's sake I Willie lo'ed, Though poor, ye are my Willie still."

"Ye canna thole the wind and rain, Or wander friendless far frae hame; Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain Will soon blot out lost Willie's name."

"I 'll tak my bundle in my hand, An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e; I 'll wander wi' ye ower the land; I 'll venture wi' ye ower the sea."

"Forgi'e me, love, 'twas all a snare, My flocks are safe, we needna part; I 'd forfeit them and ten times mair To clasp thee, Mary, to my heart."

"How could ye wi' my feelings sport, Or doubt a heart sae warm and true?

I maist could wish ye mischief for 't, But canna wish ought ill to you."

TASTE LIFE'S GLAD MOMENTS.[101]

Taste life's glad moments, Whilst the wasting taper glows; Pluck, ere it withers, The quickly-fading rose.

Man blindly follows grief and care, He seeks for thorns, and finds his share, Whilst violets to the pa.s.sing air Unheeded shed their blossoms.

Taste life's, &c.

When tim'rous Nature veils her form, And rolling thunder spreads alarm, Then, ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm, The sun shines forth at even.

Taste life's, &c.

How spleen and envy anxious flies, And meek content, in humble guise, Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise, Which golden fruits shall yield him.

Taste life's, &c.

Who fosters faith in upright breast, And freely gives to the distress'd, There sweet contentment builds her nest, And flutters round his bosom.

Taste life's, &c.

And when life's path grows dark and strait, And pressing ills on ills await, Then friendship, sorrow to abate, The helping hand will offer.

Taste life's, &c.

She dries his tears, she strews his way, E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay, Turns night to morn, and morn to day, And pleasure still increases.

Taste life's, &c.

Of life she is the fairest band, Joins brothers truly hand in hand, Thus, onward to a better land, Man journeys light and cheerly.

Taste life's, &c.

[101] These verses, which form a translation of _Freut euch des Libens_, were written at Leipsig in 1795, when the author was on his continental tour. He was then in his twentieth year.

GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'.

Good night, and joy be wi' ye a', Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart; May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw; In sorrow may ye never part!

My spirit lives, but strength is gone, The mountain-fires now blaze in vain; Remember, sons, the deeds I 've done, And in your deeds I 'll live again!

When on yon muir our gallant clan, Frae boasting foes their banners tore; Wha shew'd himself a better man, Or fiercer waved the red claymore?

But when in peace--then mark me there-- When through the glen the wand'rer came, I gave him of our lordly fare, I gave him here a welcome hame.

The auld will speak, the young maun hear; Be cantie, but be gude and leal; Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear, Anither's aye hae heart to feel.

So, ere I set, I 'll see ye shine; I 'll see ye triumph ere I fa'; My parting breath shall boast you mine-- Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'!

OLD AND NEW TIMES.[102]

AIR--_"Kellyburn Braes."_

Hech! what a change hae we now in this town!

The lads a' sae braw, the la.s.ses sae glancin', Folk maun be dizzie gaun aye in the roun'

For deil a haet 's done now but feastin' and dancin'.

Gowd 's no that scanty in ilk siller pock, When ilka bit laddie maun hae his bit staigie; But I kent the day when there was nae a Jock, But trotted about upon honest shank's naigie.

Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste, Barely a mullin for mice or for rattens; The thrifty housewife to the flesh-market paced, Her equipage a'--just a gude pair o' pattens.

Folk were as good then, and friends were as leal, Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a-cantrin'; Right air we were tell 't by the housemaid or chiel', Sir, an' ye please, here 's your la.s.s and a lantern.

The town may be clouted and pieced, till it meets A' neebours benorth and besouth, without haltin'; Brigs may be biggit ower lums and ower streets, The Nor' Loch itsel' heaped heigh as the Calton.

But whar is true friendship, and whar will you see, A' that is gude, honest, modest, and thrifty?