I hae been east, I hae been west, Was Andro, wi' his cutty gun. ["Andro and his cutty gun', is the work of a master."-BURNS. This blythesome, lively and admirable song was first published by Allan Ramsay.] . MY WIFE HAS TA'EN THE GEE. A friend of mine came here yestreen, To drink a bottle o' ale wi' him In the niest burrows town. We sat sae late, and drank sae stout, The truth I tell to you, That, lang or e'er the midnight came, We a' were roarin' fou. My wife sits at the fire side, And the tear blinds aye her e'e, In the mornin' sune when I cam doun, My dear, quoth I, what aileth thee, I'll never do the like again, If you'll ne'er tak the gee. When, that she heard, she ran, she flang And twenty kisses in a crack, [First published by Herd in 1769.1 VOL. II. CLOUT THE CAULDRON. Hae you any pots or pans, And newly come frae Flanders, Disbanded, we've a bad run; I'm come to clout her cauldron. Madam, if you have wark for me, E For, lady fair, though I appear Love, Jupiter into a swan, Turn'd for his lovely Leda; To cheat your Argus blinker, Sir, ye appear a cunning man, For I've a tinker under tack That's used to clout my cauldron. [A Galloway tradition ascribes to a Gordon of the House of Kenmure the honour of composing the original words of this song, which are supposed to have assisted Allan Ramsay in modelling the present lyric.-ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.] THE DRUCKEN WIFE OF GALLOWAY. Down in yon valley' a couple did tarry; The wife she drank naething but sack and canary: The gudeman complain'd to her friends right sairly, O! gin my wife wad drink hoolie and fairly! First she drank Crummie, and syne she drank Gairie, And syne she has drucken my bonnie gray marie, That carried me through a' the dubs and the lairie : O! gin my wife wad drink hoolie and fairly! She has drucken her hose, syne has she her shoon, Wad she drink but her ain things I wadnae much care, My Sunday's coat she has laid it a wad, The bonny white mittens that gade on my hans, I sit by my ingle sae mim and sae mute, When I am saddest, she laughs and she sings; A pint wi' her cummers I wad her allow, And when she comes hame she aye lays on the lads, [This song was first published in ' Yair's Charmer,' a collection of songs printed about 1765. I find it in a very corrupt state in Herd's Edition, 1769, and to this day the song has undergone many variations. Some clever hand might weld together the numerous verses, and make it an excellent song, Joanna Baillie has, I think, failed in her attempt to do so.] GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR. There dwalt a man on Crawford moor, He made gude maut, and brew'd gude ale, Now it fell about the Martinmas time, That Johnie's wife had puddings to make, And she boil'd them in a pan. The wind swept cauld frae north to south, Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, |