Page images
PDF
EPUB

ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT.

This night is my departing night,
For here nae langer must I stay;
There's neither friend nor foe o' mine,
But wishes me away.

What I have done thro' lack of wit,
I never, never can recall;

I hope ye're a' my friends as yet;

Goodnight, and joy be with you all.

["These verses are said to have been composed by one of the Armstrongs, executed for the murder of Sir John Carmichael of Edrom, Warden of the Middle Marches."-SCOTT.

"The music of the most accomplished singer is dissonance to what I felt when an old dairy-maid sung me into tears with Johnie Armstrong's Last Goodnight."-GOLDSMITH.

The above is printed from Sir Walter Scott's copy-there are many variations in lines and many fabrications of verses in different Ballad Books totally unworthy of being here inserted.]

I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE.

JAMES GRAHAME, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE.

Born 1612-Hanged 1650,

My dear and only love, I pray
That little world of thee

Be govern'd by no other sway,

But purest monarchy;

For if confusion have a part,

Which virtuous souls abhor, I'll call a synod in my heart,

And never love thee more.

As Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone,
My thoughts did evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.

He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,

Who dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all.

But I will reign, and govern still,
And always give the law,
And have each subject at my will,
And all to stand in awe :
But 'gainst my batt'ries if I find

Thou storm or vex me sore,
As if thou set me as a blind,
I'll never love thee more.

And in the empire of thy heart,
Where I should solely be,

If others do pretend a part,
Or dare to share with me;
Or committees if thou erect,
Or go on such a score,
I'll smiling mock at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if no faithless action stain
Thy love and constant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my sword.

I'll serve thee in such noble ways,
As ne'er was known before;

I'll deck and crown thy head with bays,
And love thee more and more.

[From Watson's Collection, 1711.]

THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL.

FRANCIS SEMPLE OF BELTREES.

Fy let us a' to the bridal,

For there will be lilting there;
For Jock's to be married to Maggy,
The lass wi' the gowden hair.
And there will be lang-kail and porridge,
And bannocks o' barley-meal;
And there will be good saut herring,
To relish a cog of good ale.

And there will be Sawney the sutor,
And Will wi' the meikle mou';
And there will be Tam the blutter,
With Andrew the tinkler, I trow;
And there will be bow-legged Robie,
With thumbless Katy's goodman ;
And there will be blue-cheeked Dobie,
And Laurie the laird of the land.

And there will be sow-libber Patie,
And plooky-fac'd Wat o' the mill,
Capper-nos'd Francie and Gibbie,

That wins in the how of the hill;
And there will be Alaster Sibbie,

Wha in with black Bessie did mool, With snivelling Lilly, and Tibby,

The lass that stands aft on the stool.

And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,
And coft him grey breeks to his a—,
Who after was hangit for stealing,
Great mercy it happen'd na warse:
And there will be gleed Geordy Janners,
And Kirsh with the lily-white leg,

Wha gade to the south for manners,

[ocr errors]

And danced the daft dance' in Mons-meg.

And there will be Judan Maclaurie,

And blinkin daft Barbara Macleg,
Wi' flae-lugged sharney-fac'd Laurie,
And shangy-mou'd haluket Meg.
And there will be happer-a-'d Nancy,
And fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name,
Muck Madie, and fat hippit Grisy,
The lass wi' the gowden wame.

And there will be Girn-again-Gibbie,
With his glaikit wife Jenny Bell,
And misle-shinn'd Mungo Macapie,
The lad that was skipper himsel.
There lads and lasses in pearlings
Will feast in the heart of the ha',
On sybows, and rifarts, and carlings,
That are baith sodden and raw

And there will be fadges and brochan,
With fouth of good gabbocks of skate,
Powsowdy, and drammock, and crowdy,
And caller nowt-feet in a plate.
And there will be partans and buckies,
And whitens and speldings enew,
With singed sheep-heads, and a haggies,
And scadlips to sup till ye spew.

And there will be lapper'd milk kebbocks,
And sowens, and farls, and baps,
With swats, and well scraped paunches,
And brandy in stoups and in caps:
And there will be meal-kail and castocks,
With skink to sup till ye rive,

And roasts to roast on a brander,
Of flukes that were taken alive.

Scrapt haddock, wilks, dulse and tangle,
And a mill of good snishing to prie;
When weary with eating and drinking,
We'll rise up and dance till we die.
Then fy let us a' to the bridal,
For there will be lilting there;
For Jock's to be married to Maggie,

The lass wi' the gowden hair.

[This very lively and graphic old song was first published in Wat

son's Collection of Scottish Poetry, 1706.]

« PreviousContinue »