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KYLE'S 

SCOTTISH  LYRIC  GEMS 


A  COLLECTION    OF   THE 


ongs  of  g>cotlanti 

ORIGINAL   AND    SELECTED 

WITH  -7T 


NEW  AND  APPROPRIATE  SYMPHONIES  AND  ACCOMPANIMENTS 

FOR  THE  PIANOFORTE 


BV 


T.  S.  GLEADHILL 


.>..■■■ 


-»>-♦-•-<- 


GLASGOW: 


JOSEPH     FERRIE,     MUSIC     PUBLISHER. 


LONDON:   HOULSTON  &  SONS,  PATERNOSTER  SQUARE; 


CHAPPELL  &  CO.,  50  NEW  BOND  STREET,  and  15  POULTRY. 


flat    , 

/7 


INTRODUCTION. 


>  -»- 


SO  numerous  are  the  compilations  of  the  Songs  of  Scotland,  that  it  may  be  egotism  on  my  part 
to  offer  a  new  collection  in  the  hope  of  creating  a  demand  sufficient  to  repay  the  outlay ;  but  to 
me  this  "gathering  of  the  flowers  of  melody"  has  been  a  labour  of  love.  I  have  watched  its  pro- 
gress to  completion  with  parental  care,  and  although,  in  comparison  to  some  of  "richer  girt,"  my 
offering  may  not  appear  "  a  thing  of  beauty,"  yet  to  some  I  trust  it  may  prove  "  a  joy  for  ever ;" 
for  the  music  of  our  leal  land  is  not  the  luxury  of  the  few,  but  one  of  the  daily  wants  of  the 
many. 

I  have  much  faith  in  the  vitality  of  the  muse  of  Scotland,  and  the  love  such  as  Scotland  has 
for  its  minstrelsy  is  a  great  gift;  there  is  vigour  in  it,  and  that  vigour  reveals  the  power  of  the 
mission  of  national  songs,  for  such  a  gift  is  not  given  without  a  purpose.  It  is  a  recorded  fact 
that  five  thousand  copies  of  Cunningham's  edition  of  Burns  were  sold  as  fast  as  they  could  be 
issued  from  the  press ;  and,  therefore,  who  can  fathom  the  high  results  to  Scotland  of  the  existence 
of  Burns? — for  the  pen  of  the  hand  that  knows  how  to  use  it  is  the  most  powerful  weapon 
known.       "Tis  the  weapon   of  the   soul." 

Commentators  have  worn  out  every  meed  of  praise  that  could  be  bestowed  on  the  poet 
ploughman  of  Scotland ;  pilgrims,  in  years  gone  by,  have  wandered  to  the  "  thatched  hut "  in 
which  he  was  born,  to  prove  that  the  banks  of  Avon,  where  Shakspeare  saw  light,  are  not  holier 
ground  than  the  banks  of  Ayr  or  Doon.  "What  has  Burns  written!"  What  has  he  not  written? 
He,  who  could  melt  with  love  or  fire  with  rage,  has  depicted  every  emotion  in  the  human  breast. 
He  waves  his  wand,  and  lo !  before  us  are  the  "  snaw "  white  locks  of  "  John  Anderson,  my  jo ;" 
he  waves  his  wand  again  for  "Auld  Langsyne,"  and  next  we  see  "  Twa  Dogs,"  who  are  thankful 
they  are  not  of  our  race;  then  the  wizard  with  his  magic  stroke  proves  "A  man's  a  man  for  a' 
that ;"  he  philosophises  on  a  daisy  and  a  mouse ;  he  sings  to  Mary  in  Heaven,  and  delivers  an 
address  to  the  very  Deil  himself.  There  is  no  occasion  to  lift  the  veil,  behind  which  the  dead 
are  out  of  sight ;  but,  "  ill  starr'd "  as  he  was,  Robert  Burns  has  "  built  himself  a  living  monument, 
and   kings,   for   such   a   tomb,   might   wish   to   die." 

From  the  plough  and  the  loom,  what  bright  gems  of  thought  have  illumined  our  undying 
strains,  for  second  only  in  popularity  to  the  lyrics  of  Burns  are  the  songs  of  Robert  Tannahill, 
the  Paisley  poet,  a  delicate  and  sensitive  bard,  who  passed  prematurely  behind  the  "cloud  of  oblivion." 
Then  from  the  Shepherd's  fold  came  the  name  of  James  Hogg;  but  he,  unlike  many  of  our  song- 
writers,  spent  a   long   and   happy  life.      It  would    require    space    beyond    my    purpose    to    notice    in 


INTRODUCTION. 

detail  all  the  successful  songsters  that  pass  before  my  mind's  eye,  but  "  till  all  time "  generations 
will  remember  such  names  as  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Thomas  Campbell,  Allan  Cunningham,  ■  Henry  Scott 
Riddell,  John  Stuart-Blackie,  William  Thorn,  Joanna  Baillie,  Lady  Nairne,  and  others  of  the 
brilliant  rank   of  Scotia's   sons   and   daughters   of  song. 

Of  the  antiquity  of  the  music  of  Scotland  we  have  every  proof — and  there  is  no  question  but 
we  owe  many  of  our  best  old  melodies  to  wandering  minstrels  who,  long  before  "the  iron  age," 
were  wont  to  roam  from  hill  to  vale,  and  from  the  laird  and  the  cottar  met  with  a  lowin 
welcome. 

I  believe  with  Eliza  Cook,  the  Queen  poetess  of  England,  that  "  music  is  born  with  us,  and 
forms  one  of  the  links  of  divinity."  It  is  strange  how  the  same  melody  will  affect  a  dozen 
different  persons  in  a  dozen  distinct  ways ;  the  Highlander,  whose  fresh  mountain  nature  is  incor- 
porated with  the  pibroch  and  reel,  moves  very  differently  to  the  strains  of  Tullochgorum,  compared 
to  the  ball-room  "  Dundreary "  who  listens  to  the  measure  as  he  would  to  the  guessing  of  "  a 
widdle."  Then  who  does  not  know  the  softening  power  of  the  music  of  the  human  voice  ?  It  is 
like  the  angel  whisperings  of  kind  words  in  the  hour  of  trouble.  "  Sing  on."  Sing  to  the  wicked 
man,   sing   to   the   sufferer,   sing   to   the   old,    sing   to   the   young,  for   music   will   inspire   them    all. 

Of  Scottish  music  it  has  well  been  said — "  Through  the  force  of  novelty,  or  the  peculiar  powers 
of  some  favourite  singer,  one  new  song  after  another  becomes  the  rage  of  the  day,  which  in  a 
short  time  is  laid  aside  to  be  remembered  no  more.  It  bloomed  but  to  wither,  was  born  but  to 
die ;  but  our  old  national  airs  are  imperishable  plants,  unfading  evergreens,  which  have  no 
more  to  dread  from  the  capricious  innovations  of  fashion  than  the  oak  has  to  fear  from  the  storm 
which,  instead  of  overturning,  serves  but  to  fix  it  more  deeply  in  its  native  earth."  And  such 
marked  praise  is  well  deserved,  for,  take  our  songs  "  all  in  all,"  where  can  we  find  such  happy 
humour,  pure  pathos,  true  tenderness,  and  soul-stirring  spirit,  as  in  the  lays  of  our  northern  en- 
chanters, wedded  as  they  are  to  music  as  healthful  as  the  breath  of  spring,  as  plaintive  as  the 
sighing   of  the   wind,   and   as   cheery   "  as   sunshine   to   the   flowers   in   May"  ? 

In   this   collection    I    have   endeavoured   to   select    the    best    of    our    well-known    songs,   and    into 

such   good   company   have    introduced    my   own    copyrights,    many   of  which   have    met   with   favourable 

notice,   and    are    not    to    be    found    in   any  other   edition.      I    have    also   adopted   the   plan   of  having 

every   song  complete   in   one   or  two   pages,   thus   preventing   the   necessity   of  turning   over  the   leaves 

while  singing.      The  accompaniments  have  been  arranged   by  Mr.  T.  S.  Gleadhill,  a  masterly  musician, 

well  known   for    his    harmony   and    heart    in    the   cause;    and    I   therefore   venture   to   remark  that   I 

have   at   least   made   an   effort    to   obtain   for    my  volume    a    kindly  recognition,    in    the    hope    it   may 

raise   a  few    modern    lyrics    to    fame,   and    add    more    admirers    to    the    myriads  who   delight   in   our 

"  Auld   Scotch   Sangs." 

THE  PUBLISHER. 

Glasgow,  1880. 


CONTENTS. 


Where  the  first  line  differs  ^rom  the  title,  both  are  given,  in  order  to  facilitate  reference. 

The  Songs  marked  (a)  are  Publishers'  Copyrights,  and  here  first  published;  (Jj),  Copyright  Songs  inserted  in  this 
work  by  permission  of  the  publishers. 


a    Afton  Water  

a    A  guid  New  Year  to  ane  and  a' ... 

A  Highland  lad 

A  man's  a  man  for  a' that 
i     Ance  mair  hae  we  met,  then  happy  let  us  be    ... 

And  are  ye  sure  the  news  is  true 

And  ye  shall  walk  in  silk  attire  ... 

Annie  Lawrie         ... 

Are  ye  doin'  aught  weel,  are  ye  thriyin',  my  man 

At  Willie's  Wedding  on  the  Green         

Auld  Joe  Nicholson's  bonnie  Nannie     ... 

Auld  Langsyne 

Auld  Robin  Gray  ... 
a    Auld  Robin  the  laird 

Away  ye  gay  landscapes  ... 

A  wee  bird  cam'  to  our  ha'  door ... 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk 

Behind  yon  hill  where  Lugar  flows 

Bide  ye  yet 

Blue  bonnets  over  the  border 

Blythe,  blythe,  and  merry  was  she 
a    Bonnie  Auld  Scotland 
a    Bonnie  Bessie  Lee... 

Bonnie  brier  bush  .. . 

Bonnie  Dundee 

Bonnie  Jeanie  Gray 

Bonnie  Mary  of  Argyle    ... 

Bonnie  Mary  Hay...  

Bonnie  Prince  Charlie 

Bonnie  wee  thing  ... 

Bonnie  wood  of  Craigielea 
a    Bothwell  Castle     

Braw,  braw  lads     ... 

Ca'  the  ewes  to  the  knowes 
Caller  Herrin' 

Callum  o' Glen      ...         ...         

Cam' ye  by  Athol 

Can  ye  loe  me  weel,  lassie 

Cauld  blaws  the  wind  frae  north  to  south 

Cauld  kail  in  Aberdeen 

Come  all  ye  jolly  shepherds         

Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie     ... 

b    Come  sit  thee  down  

Come  under  my  plaidie    ... 

Comin' thro' the  rye 

Corn  rigs    ...         

Dainty  Davie 

Donald        ...         ...         ...         

Doun  the  burn,  Davie  lad 
Duncan  Gray 

a    Farewell  to  the  Land 

Farewell  to  Lochaber 

First  when  Maggie  was  my  care .. . 
a    Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton...         ...       •  ... 

b    Gae  bring  my  gudc  auld  harp  ancc  mair 
Gae  bring  to  me  a  pint  o' wine    ... 
Get  up  and  bar  the  door  ... 
Gin  I  had  a  wee  house  and  a  canty  wee  fire 
Gloomy  winter's  noo  a wa' 
Green  grow  the  rashes,  O 


PAGE 
368 
134 

66 

274 

376 

8 

124 

80 
398 

14 
108 
114 
4 
304 
280 


400 

16 

272 

320 

198 

292 

24 

70 

74 
146 

154 
77 
82 
76 

244 
86 
18 

34'o 

94 

226 

82 

230 

1 06 

166 

116 

62 

122 

182 

36 

9S 

334 
364 
132 
324 

382 
192 
189 
368 

284 
100 
104 
272 
268 
54 


PAGE 

Hail  to  the  chief 238 

Hame  cam' our  gudeman  at  e'en            266 

Haud  awa',  bide  awa'       ...          ...         ...         •■•          ••■  354 

Heather  Jock         194 

He's  owre  the  hills            256 

Hieland  Laddie      356 

Highland  Maiy      96 

Hooly  and  fairly    ...          ..         ...         ...         ...         •••  338 

How  blythely  the  pipe     232 

Huntingtower        ..         ...         ...         ■••  78 

I  am  a  young  man  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...     220 

I  ance  was  a  want er  as  happy 's  a  bee     ... 

I  gaed  a  waefu' gate  yestreen 

I  hae  laid  a  herrin' in  saut 

I  have  heard  the  mavis  singing  his  love  song  to  the  morn 

I  loe  na  a  laddie  but  ane  ... 

I'll  hae  my  coat     ... 
a    I'll  loe  thee,  Annie 

I'm  owre  young  to  marry  yet 

I'm  wearin' awa',  Jean 
a    In  an  old  thatch'd  cottage  at  the  bottom  of  a  hill 

In  a  wee  cot  house  far  across  the  muir   ... 

In  the  garb  of  old  Gaul    ... 

It  fell  about  the  Martimas  time   ... 

It  fell  on  a  day,  a  bonnie  summer  day    ... 

I  wander'd  to-day  to  the  mill,  Maggie  ... 

It  was  upon  a  Lammas  night 
a    I  winna  be  weel     ... 
a    I  winna  gang  back  to  my  mammy  again 

Jenny's  bawbee      ...         

Jeanie's  black  e'e  ... 
Jenny  dang  the  weaver     ... 
Jessie,  the  flower  o' Dunblane 
Jock  o' Hazeldean 
John  Anderson,  my  Joe   ... 
John  Grumlie 
Johnnie  Cope 
Johnnie  and  Mary... 

Kate  Da'rymple 

Kelvin  Grove         •••  ••■         •••  

Kind  Robin  loes  me         ...         ...         

Lass  gin  ye  loe  me,  tell  me  noo  ... 

Lassie  wi' the  lintwhite  locks      

Last  May  a  braw  wooer   ... 
Leezie  Lindsay 
Lochnagarr 
a    Lock  the  door,  Lariston   ... 
Logan  Water 
Logie  o'  Buchan    ... 
Loudon's  bonnie  woods  and  braes 
Lucy's  flittin' 

Maggie  Lauder 
Mary's  dream 
Mary  Morison 
Mary  of  Castlecary 
Maxvvelton  braes  arc  bonnie 
a    Meet  me  on  the  go  wan  lea 
Mirk  and  rainy  is  the  night 

Muirland  Willie 

My  ain  fireside 

My  ain  kind  dearie,  O 


234 
328 
178 

154 
168 

336 
112 

37 
144 
296 
316 
172 
104 
228 
402 
9S 
42 
378 

264 
138 
14 
84 
88 
64 

HO 

136 
40 

316 

32 

240 

178 
288 
l6o 

19 

2  SO 
366 
I4S 

34 
142 

322 

164 

28 

224 

'58 

80 

372 

231 

246 

60 

65 


ii 


CONTENTS. 


a    My  bonnie  dark-eyed  dearie 

My  boy  Tammy 

My  heart  is  sair 

a    My  Highland  cot 

My  love  is  like  a  red,  red  rose    ... 
My  love  she's  but  a  lassie  yet 
My  mither's  aye  glowrin'  owre  me 
My  Mither  ment  my  auld  breeks 

My  Nannie,  O       

My  Nannie's  awa' ... 
My  spouse  Nancy  ... 

My  tocher's  the  jewel       

My  wife  has  ta'en  the  gee 

a    My  Willie  and  me 


Naebody  kens  ye ...         

Now  in  her  green  mantle  blythe  Nature  arrays 

O  are  ye  sleepin',  Maggie 

O  Charlie  is  my  darling 

O  dinna  think,  bonnie  lassie 

O  !  hush  thee,  my  baby ...         

O  Kenmure's  on  and  awa',  Willie 

O  Nanny  wilt  thou  gang  wi' me  ? 

O  this  is  no  my  ain  lassie... 

O  wat  ye  wha's  in  yon  town 

O  wha's  for  Scotland  and  Charlie  

O  wha's  at  the  window,  wha,  wha ?       ...         

Oh  Allister  Macallister     

Oh  rowan  tree,  oh  rowan  tree,  thou'lt  aye  be  dear  to  me 

Oh  whaur  was  ye  sae  late  yestreen 

Oh  where,  tell  me  where  is  your  Highland  laddie  gane? 

O  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad 

O  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o' maut... 

O  Willie  was  a  wanton  wag 
a    O  ye  needna  be  courtin' at  me,  auld  man  ..'. 

O'er  the  muir  amang  the  heather 

Of  a' the  airts  the  wind  can  blaw  ...         

On  the  seas  and  far  away... 

Oran  an  oig,  or  the  song  of  death  ...         

a    Our  ain  auld  Hame 
a    Our  bonnie  Scots  lads 

Our  Jean's  like  the  mornin'  when  milkin'  the  kye 

Owre  the  water  to  Charlie  

Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu 

Rab  Rorysoh's  bonnet      ...         

Robin  Adair  

Robin  Tamson's  smiddy 

Roslin  Castle         

Row,  weel,  my  boatie,  row  weel  

Roy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch  

Saw  ye  Johnnie  comin' ?.. .         

b    Scotland  yet  ...         

Scots  wha  hae  wi' Wallace  bled  .. .         ...         

She's  fair  and  fause  ...  

a    Sweet  heather  bell  

a    Tak' back  the  ring,  dear  Jamie  ... 

Tak'  your  auld  cloak  about  ye 

Tarn  Glen  ... 

a    The  auld  town  o'  Stirling  

a    The  battle  of  Bannockburn  ...         

The  banks  of  the  Dee 

The  birks  of  Aberfeldy 

The  blue  bells  of  Scotland  ...         ...         

The  boatie  rows     ... 

The  bonnie  house  o'  Airlie 
a    The  bonnie  blue  bells,  I  dearly  love  to  see 
a    The  Bowling  Braes  ...         ... 

The  braes  aboon  Bonaw 

The  braes  o' Ballochmyle 


PAGE 

39° 
120 
119 
294 

10 
196 
242 
218 

16 

93 
145 
306 
289 

50 

398 
93 

231 

259 
184 
312 
206 
252 
202 
38 
186 

3H 
248 

370 
146 
92 
102 
162 
208 
310 
277 
126 
346 
282  . 
376 
388 

387 
176 


290 

396 
326 
218 
204 
308 
276 

118 

284 

7i 

180 
302 

362 

254 

22 

300 

3i8 

344 

55 

92 

20 

228 

294 
380 
216 
352 


The  braes  o' Balquhidder 

The  brisk  young  lad         

The  broom  o'  the  Cowdenknowes 

The  bush  aboon  Traquair 

The  Campbells  are  comin' 
a    The  chieftain  to  his  bride... 

a    The  clean  hearthstane       

a    The  courtin'  time  ... 

The  deil's  awa'  wi'  the  exciseman 
a    The  emblems  of  nations  are  sung  of  with  raptures 

The  flowers  of  the  forest  (old  air)  

The  flowers  of  the  forest  (modern  air)    ... 

The  hundred  pipers 

The  jolly  beggar    ... 

The  kail  brose  of  auld  Scotland  ...         

The  laird  o' Cockpen 

The  lament  of  Flora  Macdonald 

The  land  o' the  leal  

The  lass  o' Ballochmyle 

The  lass  o' Gowrie 

The  lass  o'  Patie's  mill     

The  Lawland  lads... 

The  Macgregor's  gathering  ...         

The  married  man's  lament 

The  moon's  on  the  lake,  the  mist's  on  the  brae... 

The  piper  o' Dundee        

a    The  pride  of  Inverary 

The  rock  and  the  wee  pickle  tow  

The  rowan  tree       

a    The  Scotch  blue  bell        

a    The  slogan  of  freedom 

The  Standard  on  the  braes  o'  Mar  

The  sun  has  gane  down  o'er  the  lofty  Ben  Lomond 
a    The  sun  has  set  and  the  gloamin' grey  ... 

a    The  thorn  tree       ...         1 

a    The  trystin' tree 

The  wee,  wee  German  lairdie 

The  woods  o'  Dunmore    ... 

The  yellow-hair'd  laddie 

There  cam'  a  young  man  to  my  daddy's  door    ... 

There  was  a  lad  was  born  in  Kyle 

There's  nae  luck  about  the  house 

This  lone  heart  is  thine,  lassie     

Thou  art  gane  awa' frae  me,  Mary         

To  the  Lords  of  Convention,  'twas  Claverhouse  spoke 

Tullochgorum        ...         ...         1 

Twa  bonnie  maidens        

'Twas  on  a  simmer  afternoon      , 

Up  in  the  morning  early 


Wae's  me  for  Prince  Charlie 

Wandering  Willie 

Wee  Willie  Winkie  

Weel  may  the  keel  row 

Welcome  Royal  Charlie  ... 

We're  a' noddin' 

Wha  wadna  fecht  for  Charlie  !    ... 

Wha'll  be  king  but  Charlie  ? 

When  I  left  our  auld  glen 

When  the  king  comes  owre  the  water 

When  the  kye  comes  hame 

When  trees  did  bud  and  flowers  were 

When  ye  gang  awa',  Jamie 

When  you  and  I  were  young,  Maggie 

Where  the  Highland  tartans  wave 

Whistle  o'er  the  lave  o't 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  lady  ?... 

Willie  wi'  his  wig  ajee      

Will  ye  gang  to  the  Baugy-burn  ? 
Will  ye  go  to  the  ewe  bughts,  Marion 
Within  a  mile  o'  Edinburgh  town 
Woo'd  and  married  an'  a' 


green 


Ye  banks  and  braes 
Ye  canna  marry  me 


.  1. 

Ml 


. .. 


PAGB 
286 
I56 

332 
20O 

56 

262 

48 

386 

350 

302 

I 

2 

68 
188 

174 
150 
222 
144 

394 
12 

128 
342 
140 

234 
141 
212 
296 
214 
370 

44 
384 
392 

84 
390 
260 

52 

5^ 
278 

170 

156 

7i 
278 
90 

74 
152 
250 

12 

106 

6 

236 
298 
360 
348 
210 
26 
190 

384 

46 

116 

132 

78 
402 

374 
189 

88 
258 
130 
358 

30 
330 

270 
362 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  FOREST. 


Written  by  Miss  Jane  Elliot. 


Old  Air. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


I 


a 


K       K 


S 


3 


Voice. 


J=J- 


e 


Piano- 
Forte. 


i.  I've  heard  them  lilt 

2.   At     bughts    in    the  morn 


Adagio. 


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in'  at    the      ewe    milk  -  in' ; 

in'  nae    blythe  lads  are  scorn  -  in ' ; 


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Lass  -  es    a     lilt  -   in'  be  -  fore  dawn  of  day ; 


Now  there's  a    moan -in' on       il-ka  green      loan -in',  The 


Lass  -  es  are  lane  -  lyand    dow  -  ie  andwae;  Nae        daf  -  fin,  nae    gab  -  bin, but   sigh-in'  and         sab -bin';  Ilk 


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Flow'rs  of  the   Fo    ■ 

■    rest  are 

a'     wede    a  -  way. 

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At  e'en  in  the  gloamin',  nae  swankies  are  roamin' 
'Bout  stacks  wi'  the  lasses  at  bogle  to  play ; 

But  ilk  maid  sits  drearie,  lamenting  her  dearie, 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 


IV. 


In  har'st  at  the  shearin',  nae  youths  now  are  jeerin' 
Bandsters  are  runkled,  and  lyart  or  grey ; 

At  fair  or  at  preachin',,nae  wooin',  nae  fleechin', 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 


v. 


Dool  for  the  order  sent  our  lads  to  the  Border, 
The  English  for  ance  by  guile  wan  the  day  ; 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  that  fought  aye  the  foremost, 
The  prime  of  our  land  lie  cauld  in  the  clay. 


VI. 


We'll  hae  nae  mair  liltin'  at  the  ewe  milkin', 
Women  and  bairns  are  heartless  and  wae  ; 

Sighin'  and  moanin'  on  ilka  green  loanin', 
The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 


Voice. 


THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  FOREST. 


Written  by  Mrs.  Cockburn. 


Modern  Air, 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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1.  I've       seen     the       smil  -  ing       of 

2.  I've       seen      the      morn  -   ing     with 


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for    -      tune    be    -     guil  -  ing,     I've    felt  .    .  all        its       fa    -  vours     and      found         its       de  -  cay. 
jold    the    hills    a    -     dorn  -  ing.  And  the   dread   tern  -  pest    roar  -  ing     be  -    -    fore  part  -  ing   day. 

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Sweet      was    its     bless    -   ing,  kind        its     ca  -    ress     -    ing,        But    now      'tis 

I've       seen  Tweed's  sil     -  ver  streams,  glit-t'ring  in    the     sunny     beams,  Grow   drum  -  lie 


.    fled,     .     .     .       'tis 
and  dark       as       they 


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fled        far       a  -  way ; 
roll'd       on      their  way. 


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O  fie  -  kle      for 


rest    a    -    dorn    -      ed     the        fore  -    most     With 
tune,  why  this     cru  -  el         sport  -     ing?      O 


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THE   FLOWERS   OF    THE   FOREST. 


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flow  -  ers    of      the      fair 
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sant    and  gay ; 
of       a    day  ? 


Sae    bon-nie      was   their   bloom  -  ing,  Their 
Thy     frowns      can  -  not      fear       me,  Thy 


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scent  the    air     per  -  fum  -    ing,    But      now  .  .   they     are      wi    -   ther'd    and 
smiles     can  -  not    cheer     me,  For  the  Flowers     of      the        Fo   -     rest    are 


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AULD    ROBIN    GRAY, 


Words  by  LADY  Ann  LINDSAY. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILl , 


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Ja  -  mie  lo'ed     me     weel, 
fa  -  ther  could  -  na     work, 


And  sought  me     for       his       bride,        But 
My     mi  -  ther  could  -  na         spin,  I 


sav  -  ing    a        crown    he   had 
toil'd     day  and      night     but  their 


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nae-thing  else  be      -      side ;      To     mak    the  crown    a      pound, 
bread  I     could-na  win  ;    Auld    Rob  main-tain'd  them  baith, 


my      Ja  -  mie  gaed    to 
and     wi'    tears  in     his 


sea,     And   the 
ee,      said, 


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crown    and  the       pound       were  baith 

Jen-ny,    for  their      sakes     will  you  no 


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mar-ry      me  ? 


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AULD  ROBIN  GRAY. 


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year     and  a       day,  When    my 
look'd  for  Ja-mie  back,    But      the 


fa  -  ther  brak  his        arm,      and  the       cow    was  stown     a  -    way ;  My 

wind      it   blew     high,      and  the      ship      it      was        a     wrack ;  The 


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mi  -  ther  she   fell  sick,  And  my        Ja-mie  at  the 

ship    it     was    a  wrack,       Why  did-najen-ny 


sea, 
dee? 


And         auld  Ro-bin        Gray  cam  a 
Oh,         why  do   I         live  to  say, 


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My  father  argued  sair,  my  mither  didna  speak, 
But  she  lookd  in  my  face  till  my  heart  was  like  to  break  ; 
So  they  gied  him  my  hand,  tho'  my  heart  was  at  the  sea, 
And  auld  Robin  Gray  is  guidman  to  me. 
I  hadna  been  a  wife,  a  week  but  only  four, 
When  mournfu'  as  I  sat  on  the  stane  at  the  door, 
I  saw  my  Jamie's  ghaist,  but  I  couldna  think  it  he, 
Till  he  said,  I'm  come  hame,  my  love,  to  marry  thee. 


IV. 

Oh  sair  did  we  greet,  and  mickle  did  we  say ; 
We  took  but  ae  kiss,  and  we  tore  ourselves  away ; 
I  wish  that  I  were  dead,  but  I'm  no  like  to  dee, 
Oh,  why  do  I  live  to  say,  O  wae's  me  ! 
I  gang  like  a  ghaist,  and  I  carena  to  spin, 
I  darena  think  o'  Jamie,  for  that  wad  be  a  sin  ; 
But  I  will  do  my  best  a  guid  wife  aye  to  be, 
For  auld  Robin  Gray  is  a  kind  man  to  me. 


WAE'S  ME  FOR  PRINCE  CHARLIE. 


1 


Words  by  WILLIAM  GLEN. 

34- 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.        A        wee     bird      cam'  to 
2.     Quoth      I,     "  My      bird,  my 

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our         ha'      door,      He       war    -    bled     sweet      and  clear     -     ly,        An' 

bonnie,  bonnie  bird,        Is        that  a        song         ye  bor     -     row  ?    Are 


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his       sang,  Was     Wae's         me  for         Prince       Char       -       lie. 

by       heart,  Or  a       lilt  o'         dool  and  sor      -      row  i 


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WAE'S  ME  FOR  PRINCE  CHARLIE. 


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III. 

On  hills  that  are  by  right  his  ain, 

He  roves  a  lanely  stranger, 
On  ev'ry  side  he's  pressed  by  want, 

On  ev'ry  side  is  danger ; 
Yestreen  I  met  him  in  a  glen, 

My  heart  maist  burstit  fairly, 
For  sadly  changed  indeed  was  he, 

Oh,  wae's  me  for  Prince  Charlie. 


IV. 

Dark  night  cam'  on,  the  tempest  roar'd 

Loud  o'er  the  hills  and  valleys  ; 
An'  where  was't  that  your  Prince  lay  down, 

Wha's  name  should  been  a  palace  ? 
He  rowed  him  in  a  Highland  plaid, 

Which  covered  him  but  sparely, 
An'  slept  beneath  a  bush  o'  broom, 

Oh,  wae's  me  for  Prince  Charlie. 


But  now  the  bird  saw  some  red  coats, 

An'  he  shook  his  wings  wi'  anger, 
Oh,  this  is  no'  a  land  for  me, 

I'll  tarry  here  nae  Linger. 
He  hovered  on  the  wing  awhile 

Ere  he  deoarted  fairly, 
But  weel  I  mind  the  fareweel  strain, 

Was,  Wae's  me  for  Prince  Charlie. 


THERE'S  NAE  LUCK  ABOUT  THE  HOJSE, 


Author  of  words  unknown. 


Voice. 


■  EN^ 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhiix. 


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are     ye    sure  the    news    is    true  ?  And    are    ye    sure  he's   weel  ? 
gie     to    me    my     big-  o  -  net,    My  bish-op's    sa  -  tin    gown, 


Is     this     a     time    to     think  o'  wark,  Ye 
For      I    maun  tell  the     bail-ie's  wife  That 


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jauds,  fling     by     your   wheel. 
Co  -  lin's    come     to      town. 


Is        this       a     time      to      think     o'    wark,  When     Co  -  lin's      at     the 
My      Tur  -  key     slip  -  pers     maun  gae      on,      My     hose     o'      pearl 


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door ;  Rax      me       my     stick,    I'll         to      the    quay,  And       see     him  come      a  -  shore,     p.       there's 

blue ;  'Tis       a'         to     please  my       ain     guid-man,    For      he's   baith  leal      and     true. 


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THERE'S  NAE  LUCK  ABOUT  THE  HOUSE. 


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nae    luck    a   -   bout  the  house,  There's  nae     luck  at        a';      There's         lit  -tie    pleas-ure         in     the  house,  When 


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in. 
Rise  up  and  mak'  a  clean  fireside, 

Put  on  the  muckle  pot, 
Gie  little  Kate  her  button  gown, 

And  Jock  his  Sunday  coat ; 
And  mak'  their  shoon  as  black  as  slaes, 

Their  hose  as  white  as  snaw  ; 
It's  a'  to  please  my  ain  guidman, 

For  he's  been  lang  awa'. 

For  there's  nae  luck,  &c. 

IV. 

There's  twa  fat  hens  upon  the  bauk, 

They've  fed  this  month  and  mair, 
Mak'  haste  and  thraw  their  necks  about 

That  Colin  weel  may  fare  ; 
And  spread  the  table  neat  and  clean, 

Gar  ilka  thing  look  braw, 
For  wha  can  tell  how  Colin  fared 

When  he  was  far  awa'. 

For  there's  nae  luck,  &c. 


Sae  true  his  heart,  sae  smooth  his  speech, 

His  breath  like  caller  air, 
His  very  foot  has  music  in't 

As  he  comes  up  the  stair  ; 
And  will  I  see  his  face  again  ? 

And  will  I  hear  him  speak  ? 
I'm  downright  dizzy  with  the  thought — 

In  troth  I'm  like  to  greet. 

For  there's  nae  luck,  &c. 

VI. 

The  cauld  blasts  o'  the  winter  wind 

That  thirled  thro'  my  heart, 
They're  a'  blawn  by,  I  hae  him  safe, 

Till  death  we'll  never  part ; 
But  what  puts  parting  in  my  head? 

It  may  be  far  awa', 
The  present  moment  is  our  ain, 

The  neist  we  never  saw. 

For  there's  nae  luck,  &0. 


VII. 


Since  Colin' s  weel,  I'm  weel  content, 

I  hae  nae  mair  to  crave, 
Could  I  but  live  to  mak'  him  blest, 

I'm  blest  aboon  the  lave. 
And  will  I  see  his  face  again  ? 

And  will  I  hear  him  speak  ? 
I'm  downright  dizzy  wi'  the  thought— 

In  troth  I'm  like  to  greet. 

For  there's  nae  luck,  &c. 


IO 


MY  LOVE  IS  LIKE  A  RED,  RED  ROSE. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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love  is      like 

a'  the    seas 


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red,  red        rose       That's        new    -     ly  sprung       in       June,         O 

dry,  my        dear,       And  the   rocks      melt    wi'         the        sun,        And 


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fair        art        thou,        my  bon  -  nie 

fare        thee      well,         my  on  -  ly 


love,        So        deep 
love !      Oh         fare 


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thee  well 


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And 


MY   LOVE    IS   LIKE   A    RED,    RED    ROSE. 


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I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear,     Till  a'         the     seas  gang     dry. 

I  will  come  a      -      gain,  my  love,     Tho'    'twere     ten     thousand   miles. 


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a'      the    seas  gang   dry,    my    love,    Till       a'      the    seas  gang  dry,        And       I        will  love  thee  still,  my  dear,  Till 
'twere    ten    thou-sand  miles,  my    love,  Tho'  'twere    ten    thousand  miles,       And      I        will  come  a  -  gain,  my  love,  Tho' 


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a'         the     seas        gang  dry. 
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12 


THE  LASS  0'  GOWRIE.* 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i.     'Twas      on         a       sim  -  mer's      af    -     ter-  noon,     A       wee         be  -  fore      the      sun      gaed  down,        My 
2.         I     praised    her    beau  -   ty       loud       and  lang,  Then    round      her  waist     my     arms        I     flang,       And 

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Gow 
Gow 


rie; 
rie  ; 


las  -  sie  wi'  a        braw       new  gown  Cam' 

said,   my        dea    -    rie,        will  ye    gang  To 


see 


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the     Carse  o' 


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The       rose    bud    ting'd    wi'  morn  -  ing  show'r  Blooms  fresh  with   -  in       the  sun    -    ny  bow'r,  But 

I'll        take     ye        to      my  fa  -  trier's  ha',        In       yon  green    field     be      -      side      the  shaw,    I'll 


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The  first  stanza  of  this  the  modern  version  is  from  the  pen  of  Carolina  Baroness  Nairne,  the  others  appear  to  be  adapted  from  "  Kate  o'  Gowrie"  by  William  Reid. 


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THE   LASS   O'   GOWRIE 


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Ka  -  tie        was        the        fair    -    est  flow'r  That  e 

make  you         la    -    dy  o'        them    a',  The  braw 


ver     bloom'd        in 
est       wife  in 


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Gow    -   rie. 
Gow    -    rie. 


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in. 

Saft  kisses  on  her  lips  I  laid, 

The  blush  upon  her  cheeks  soon  spread, 

She  whispered  modestly  and  said, 

'  I'll  gang  wi'  ye  to  Gowrie.' 
The  auld  folks  soon  gie  their  consent, 
Syne  for  Mess  John  they  quickly  sent, 
Wha  tied  them  to  their  heart's  content, 

And  now  she's  Lady  Gowrie 


1/ 


JENNY  DANG  THE  WEAVER, 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


Words  by  Sir  A.  Boswell. 


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Allegro. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill 

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1.  At    Willie's     wed-din'   on    the  green,  The 

2.  At       il-ka       country  dance  or    reel,  Wi' 


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las    -    sies,        bon  -  nie 
her        he        would    be 


witch    -    es,     Were 
bob    -    bin';    When 


a'     dressed      out 
she        sat        down 


si * 


in  a   -   prons     clean,     And 

he         sat      down,     And 


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braw     white     Sun    -   day      mutch    -    es  ;     Auld 
to         her      would      he         gab    -     bin' ;  Where 


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Mag    -   gie       bade      the       lads       take      tent,       But 
e'er        she      gaed,    baith      butt       and       ben,      The 


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JENNY   DANG   THE   WEAVER. 


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Jen 
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ver. 


And 
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Jen 


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Jen  -  ny 
Jen  -  ny 


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Jen  -  ny    dang     the    wea  -  ver. 
Jen  -  ny    dang     the    wea  -  ver. 


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hi. 

Quoth  he,  my  lass,  to  speak  my  mind, 

In  troth  I  needna  swither  ; 
You've  bonnie  een  and  if  you're  kind 

I'll  never  seek  anither  ; 
He  humm'd  and  haw'd  ;  the  lass  cried  Peugh  .' 

And  bade  the  coof  no  dcave  her, 
Syne  snapt  her  fingers,  lap  and  leugh, 

And  dang  the  silly  weaver. 
And  Jenny  dang,  Jenny  dang, 

Jenny  dang  the  weaver, 
Syne  snapt  her  fingers,  lap  and  lough,  '• 

And  dang  the  siliy  weaver. 


10 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


i 


MY  NANNIE,  0. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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2.  My 


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hind    yon     hills    where     Lu   -    gar    flows,    'Mang   muirs 
Nan  -  nie's  charm  -  ing,    sweet,    and  young,      Nae       art  - 


and     moss    -    es  mo 

fu'      wiles        to  win 


ny,        O,        The 
ye,       O,        May 


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day      has      clos'd,    And       I'll  a    -    wa'  . 

flat  -  t'ring    tongue   That      wad       be   -  guile 


to       Nan    -   nie,         O. 
my      Nan    -   nie,        O 


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lin'    wind    blaws    loud     and     shrill,    The     night's   baith  mirk    .  .    and     rai  -  ny,        O,    But  I'll 
is      fair,      her     heart      is        true,     As         spot  -  less    as   .   .  .  she's  bon  -  nie,      O,      The 

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MY  NANNIE,   O. 


17 


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out      I'll    steal,     And      o'er       the      hills  .  .      to     Nan   -   nie,      O. 

wat      wi*    dew      Nae        pu    -    ier       is   .  .  .     than  Nan  -   nie,       O. 


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III 

A  country  lad  is  my  degree. 

And  few  there  be  that  ken  me,  O  . 
But  what  care  I  how  few  they  be, 

I'm  welcome  aye  to  Nannie,  O 
My  riches  a's  my  penny  fee, 

And  I  maun  guide  it  canny,  O 
But  warld's  gear  ne'er  troubles  me. 

My  thoughts  are  a'  my  Nannie,  O. 


IV. 

Our  auld  gudeman  delights  to  view 

His  sheep  and  kye  thrive  bonnie,  O ; 
But  I'm  as  blythe  that  hauds  his  plough, 

And  has  nae  care  but  Nannie,  O. 
Come  weel,  come  wae,  I  carena  by, 

111  tak*  what  heav'n  will  send  me,  O  : 
Nae  ither  care  in  life  hae  I 

But  live  and  love  my  Nannie,  O. 


18 


Voice. 


BRAW,  BRAW  LADS. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILI. 


He 


Adagio. 


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1.  Braw,      braw    lads, 

2.  But        there  is  ane, 


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wan  -  der      thro'        the 
-  bune    them      a'  I 


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bloom  -  ing      hea  -  ther,  But    Yar     -    row    braes,      nor 
lo'e        him      bet   -  ter;  An'      I'll  be      his,         an' 


Et  -    trick  shaws,     Can 
he'll       be    mine,       The 


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the      lads 
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Ga 

Ga 


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Braw, 
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braw      lads, 
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in. 

Although  his  daddic  was  nae  laird, 
An'  though  I  hae  na  mickle  tocher  ; 

Yet  rich  in  kindest,  truest  love, 
We'll  tent  our  flocks  by  Gala  water. 
Braw,  braw  lads. 


IV. 

It  ne'er  was  wealth,  it  ne'er  was  wealth, 
That  coft  contentment,  peace  or  pleasure  j 

The  bands  and  bliss  o'  mutual  love, 
O  that's  the  warld's  chiefest  treasure, 
Braw,  braw  lads. 


LEEZIE     LINDSAY. 


»9 


First  Verse  by  Robert  Burns. 
Moderate.  __- 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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i.  Will     ye 

2.         To 


I 


gang- 
gang 


to       the       Hie  -  lands,    Lee  -   zie       Lind  -  say  ?     Will      ye  gang  .  .  to        the 

to       the       Hie  -  lands  \vi'  you,       sir,  I  din    -     na  ken 


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Hie  -  lands         wi'        me? 
how      that         may        be, 


Will     ye 
For       I 


to       the       Hie  -  lands,    Lee  -  zie      Lind   -  say,         My 


ken 


nae     the      land      that 


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pride     and       my       dar  -  ling    .       to 
ken        I         the      lad       I'm        °aun 


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III. 


0  Leezie,  lass,  ye  maun  ken  little, 

If  sae  ye  dinna  ken  me, 
For  my  name  is  lord  Ronald  Macdonald, 

A  chieftain  o'  high  degree. 


IV. 


She  has  kilted  her  coats  o'  green  satin, 
She  has  kilted  them  up  to  the  knee, 

An  she's  aff  wi'  lord  Ronald  Macdonald, 
His  bride  and  his  darling  to  be. 


to 


THE  BOATIE  ROWS. 


Words  by  John  Ewen. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill 


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Moderato. 


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weel  may       the 

cuist  my        line         in 


boa  -  tie 
Lar   -  go 


row, 
bay, 


And 
And 


bet  -  ter 
fish  -  es 


may      she 
I      caught 


speed ; 
nine ; 


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boa   -  tie         row,         That         wins 
three      to  fry,  And  three 


the    bair    -    nies        bread, 
to      bait  the  line. 


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The       boa    -    tie       rows,        the       boa    -    tie        rows,        The      boa    -     tie   rows     in    -    deed ; 


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THE   BOATIE   ROWS 


21 


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That      wish 


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in. 

When  Sawnie,  Jock,  and  Janetie, 

Are  up  and  gotten  lear, 
They'll  help  to  gar  the  boatie  row, 

And  lighten  a'  our  care. 
The  boatie  rows,  the  boatie  rows, 

The  boatie  rows  fu'  weel, 
And  lightsome  be  her  heart  that  bears 

The  murlain  and  the  creel. 


IV. 

And  when  wi'  age  we  are  worn  down, 

And  hirplin'  at  the  door, 
They'll  help  to  keep  us  dry  and  warm, 

As  we  did  them  before. 
Then  weel  may  the  boatie  row, 

That  wins  the  bairnies  bread, 
And  happy  be  the  lot  of  a' 

That  wish  the  boatie  speed. 


22 


TAM    GLEN. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  My       heart   is     a     break-  in',  dear  tit -tie!       Some  coun    -    sel     un  -  to  me  come    len1;  To 

2.  There's  Low  -  rie,  the    laird      o'     Drum-el  -  ler,       Gude  day  to    you,  cool,  he  comes  ben;  He 


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an    -  ger     them        a1         is       a  pi  -  ty, 

brags    and       he       blaws       o'    his  sil-ler. 


But    what 
But    when 
I 


will      I 
will     he 


do         wi' 
dance      like 


Tarn 
Tarn 


Glen  ? 
Glen  ? 


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I'm  think 
My   min 


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does  con 

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a      braw    fal   -   low,   In      puir 
stant  -  ly     deave    me,  And    bids 


*»'  *■ 


* — w— 

tith  I     might  make    a      fen ;    What 

me         be  -  ware     o'  young  men  ;    They 


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to         wal-low, 
de  -    ceive  me, 


If        I  maun  -  na      mar  -  ry        Tarn     Glen. 

But    wha         can  think     sae        o'         Tarn    Glen  ? 

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My  daddie  says,  gin  I'll  forsake  him, 

He'll  gie  me  guid  hunder  merks  ten  ; 
But  if  it's  ordained  I  maun  tak'  him, 

O,  wha  will  I  get  but  Tarn  Glen  ? 
Yestreen  at  the  Valentine's  dealin', 

My  heart  to  my  mou'  gied  a  sten  ; 
For  thrice  I  drew  ane  without  failin', 

And  thrice  it  was  written — Tarn  Glen. 


IV. 

The  last  Hallowe'en  I  was  waukin' 

My  drookit  sark-sleeve,  as  ye  ken, 
His  likeness  cam'  up  the  house  staukin', 

And  the  very  grey  breeks  o'  Tarn  Glen. 
Come  counsel,  dear  tittie,  don't  tarry, 

I'll  gi'e  ye  my  bonnie  black  hen, 
Gif  ye  will  advise  me  to  man} 

The  lad  I  lo'e  dearly,  Tarn  Glen. 


BONNIE  BESSIE  LEE. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  Robert  Nicoll 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill, 


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I.  Bon-nie  Bes-sie    Lee     had  a      face       fu'      o1  smiles,  And    mirth  round  her  ripe     lips  was      aye    dan-cing  slee,     And 
grat       wi'  the  wae  -   fu' and  laugh'd  wi'    the  glad,    And     light    as      the  wind 'mang  the     dan  -  cers  was  she,  And  a 


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light  was    the    foot  -  fa',  and    win  -  some  the  wiles,     0'    the      flow'r    o'     the  par  -  o-chin,  our      ain    Bes-sie  Lee. 
tongue  that  could  jeer,    too,  the    little      las  -  sie    had,     Whilk      keep'd  aye    her       ain      side  for  bonnie  Bes  -  sie  Lee. 


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Wi'  the      bairns     she  wad    rin        and  the      school    lad-  dies  pake, 
And  she      whiles    had     a    sweet  -  heart,  and     whiles    she  had    twa, 


v.  * 

And     o'er    the  broom-y  braes    like     a 
A      glai       -     kit    bit   lassie,     but     a 


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fai    -    ry    would  flee,        Till        auld     hearts  grew  young    a  -   gain     wi'        love        for      her    sake,     There    was 
tween      you     and     me,        Her       warm     wee     bit  hear    -      tie       she       ne'er     threw     a    -   wa',         Though 


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life      in    the    blythe  blink     o'     bon -nie  Bes-sie   Lee,     Our      ain    Bes-sie   Lee,     Our    bonnie    Bes  -  sie  Lee,There  was 
monyaanehad  sought  it       frae  bon -nie  Bes-sie    Lee,     Our      ain     Bes-sie   Lee,     Our    bonnie    Bes -sie  Lee,   Though 


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life         in     the       blythe  blink     o'       bon  -  nie  Bes  -   sie  Lee. 
mony  a  ane  had      sought    it     frae      bon  -  nie  Bes    -  sie  Lee. 
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But  ten  years  had  gane  since  I  gazed  on  her  last, 
For  ten  years  had  parted  my  auld  hame  and  me  \ 

And  I  said  to  my  myseF,  as  her  mither's  door  I  pass'd, 
'  Will  I  ever  get  anither  kiss  frae  Bonnie  Bessie  Lee-' 

IV. 

But  time  changes  a'  things,  the  ill-natured  loon, 

Were  it  ever  sae  lightly  he'll  no  let  it  be  ; 
But  I  rubbit  at  my  een  and  I  thought  I  would  swoon, 

How  the  carle  had  come  round  about  our  ain  Bessie  Lee. 


The  wee  laughing  lassie  was  a  gudewife  growing  auld, 
Twa  weans  at  her  apron  and  ane  on  her  knee  ; 

She  was  douce  too,  and  wiselike,  and  wisdom's  sae  cauld, 
I  would  rather  had  the  ither  ane  than  this  Bewie  Lee. 


WHA  WADNA  FECHT  FOR  CHARLIE. 


I 


From  Hogg's  Jacobite  Relics. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Allegretto. 


1.  Wha       wad    -    na  fecht      for   Char  -  lie? 

2.  Rouse,    rouse,     ye     kilt   -   ed    war  -  riors, 


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Wha      wad  -  na  draw  the    sword?  Wha    wad  -  na    up      and       ral  -  ly        At        the   roy    -    al     Prin  -  ce's   word? 
Rouse,  ye  he  -  roes    of    the  north,  Rouse  and  join  your  Prin  -  ce's    ban-ners,    'Tis     your  Prince  that  leads  you    forth. 


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Think  on  Sco  -  tia's  an    -    cient         he 

Shall        we         base    -    ly      crouch        to  ty 


roes,      Think         on  for    -     reign        foes      re    -    pell'd, 

rants  ?       Shall       we        own  a  fo  -   reign     sway  ? 


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Think        on  glo    -  rious       Bruce       and 

Shall  a  ro     -     yal       Stuart        be 


Wal  -  lace,       Who 
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III. 

See  the  northern  clans  advancing! 

See  Glengarry  and  Lochiel! 
See  the  brandish'd  broadswords  glancing! 

Highland  hearts  are  true  as  steel 
Now  our  Prince  has  raised  his  banr.tr. 

Now  triumphant  is  our  cause, 
Now  the  Scottish  lion  rallies, 

Let  us  strike  for  Prince  and  lawi.f 
Wha  wadna  fecht,  &c 


28 


Voice. 


MARY'S     DREAM. 


Written  by  John  Lowe. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Which         ris   -   es      o'er       the       source       of       Dee,       And 
Her  head,     to      ask      who       there     might     be,         And 


1.  The  moon  had  climb'd  the      high  -  est      hill, 

2.  She  from  her      pil  -  low      gen   -  tly    rais'd 


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from       the        east 
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vis    -   age    pale      and        hoi    -     low    e'e. 


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When    Ma  -  ry    laid         her    down    to    sleep,       Her      thoughts  on     San    -     dy 
'O        Ma  -  ry,  dear,        cold      is      my    clay,          It            lies       be-  neath       the 
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MARY'S   DREAM. 


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soft      and       low  a 

far      from      thee  I 


voice     was     heard  Say,  '  Ma      -      ry,  weep 

sleep       in      death,  So,  Ma      -      ry,  weep 


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III. 

'  Three  stormy  nights  and  stormy  days, 

We  toss'd  upon  the  raging  main  ; 
And  long  we  strove  our  bark  to  save, 

But  all  our  striving  was  in  vain  ; 
Even  then  when  horror  chill'd  my  blood, 

My  heart  was  fill'd  with  love  for  thee  : 
The  storm  is  past  and  I  at  rest, 

So,  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me.' 


IV. 

*  O  maiden  dear,  thyself  prepare, 

We  soon  shall  meet  upon  that  shore, 
Where  love  is  free  from  doubt  and  care, 

And  thou  and  I  shall  part  no  more." 
Loud  crow'd  the  cock,  the  shadow  fledi 

No  more  of  Sandy  could  she  see, 
But  soft  the  passing  spirit  said, 

'  Sweet  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  mf  ' 


5° 


WITHIN  A  MILE  0'  EDINB0R0'  TOWN. 


Air  by  James  Hook. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


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1.  'Twas  with    -   in  a        mile  of 

2.  Young  Jock  -    kie        was  a    wag        that 

8 


Ed  -  in  -  bo    -    ro'  town,       In       the        ro      -     sy       time       of     the 
ne  -  ver    wad  wed,  Though        lang       he  had    fol  -  lowed  the 


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Sweet 
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flow    L-      -     ers     bloom'd,      and       the  grass 

-  tent    -  ,  -   ed    she  earn'd  and  ate  her 


was     down, 
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Bon    -     nie  Joe  -  kie,       blythe  and    gay, 
Bon    -     nie  Joe  -  kie,      blythe  and    free, 


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WITHIN   A   MILE    O'    EDINBORO'   TOWN. 


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Kiss'd  sweet  Jen-ny    mak  -  ing     hay  ;  The  las  -  sie  blush'd,  and  frowning  cried'  '  Na, 
Won  her  heart  right  mer  -  ri    -    ly;    Yet    still     she  blush'd,  and  frowning  cried,  'Na, 


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can  -na,  can  -  na,  win-na,    win  -  na,     maun-na     buc  -  kle    to.' 


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Eat  when  he  vow'd  he  wad  make  her  his  bride, 

Though  his  flocks  and  herds  were  not  few, 
She  gied  him  her  hand  and  a  kiss  beside, 
And  vow'd  she'd  for  ever  be  true. 
Bonnie  Jockie,  blythe  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  right  merrily, 
At  kirk  she  no  more  frowning  cricu. 

'  Na,  na,  it  winna,'  &e. 


t* 


KELVIN    GROVE, 


Words  by  ThomAs  Lyle. 

-S-tt- 


I 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


Voice. 


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Andantino. 


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1.  Let    us    haste    to     Kel-vin      Grove,    bon-nie     las 

2.  Let    us    wan  -  der    by    the       mill,     bon-nie     las 


sie,     O,  Through  its    ma-zes     let     us      rove,    bon-nie 
sie,     O,      To      the  cove  be  -  side  the       rill,      bon-  nie 


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las      -      sie,      O,  Where    the    rose       in    all      her    pride    Paints  the     hoi  -  low    din  -  gle      side,  Where    the 
las      -      sie,       O,  Where    the  glens      rebound    the     call        Of     the    roar  -  ing      wa  -  ter  -  fall,    Thro'     the 


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midnight  fair  -  ies       glide,    bon-nie     las     -      sie,       O. 
mountain's  rock  -  y        hall,     bon-nie     las     -      sie,      O. 


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KELVIN   GROVE. 


ni. 


O  Kelvin's  banks  are  fair,  bonnie  lassie,  0, 
When  in  summer  we  are  there,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 
There  the  May-pink's  crimson  plume 
Throws  a  soft  but  sweet  perfume 
Round  the  yellow  banks  o'  broom,  bonnie  lasirie,  O. 

IV. 

Though  I  dare  not  call  thee  mine,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 
As  the  smile  of  fortune's  thine,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 

Yet,  with  fortune  on  my  side, 

I  could  stay  thy  father's  pride, 
And  win  thee  for  my  bride,  bonnie  lassie,  O. 


But  the  frowns  o'  fortune  lower,  bonnie  lassie-  0> 
On  thy  lover,  at  this  hour,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 
Ere  yon  golden  orb  of  day 
Wake  the  warblers  on  the  spray, 
From  this  land  I  must  away,  bonnie  lassie,  Ol 

VI. 

Then  farewell  to  Kelvin  Grove,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 
And  adieu  to  all  I  love,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 

To  the  river  winding  clear, 

To  the  fragrant  scented  brier, 
E'en  to  thee  of  all  most  dear,  bonnie  lassie,  O. 

VII. 

When  upon  a  foreign  shore,  bonnie  lassie,  O, 
Should  I  fall  'midst  battle's  roar,  bonnie  lassie,  C, 

Then,  Helen,  should'st  thou  hear 

Of  thy  lover  on  his  bier, 
To  his  mem'ry  shed  a  tear,  bonnie  lassie,  O. 


?4 


LOGIE   0'  BUCHAN, 


Words  by  George  Halket. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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I.     O  Lo    -     gie       o'         Buc  -  han,         O  Lo    -    gie        the         laird, 

2.  Though    San    -     die      has       ow  -  sen.  has       gear      and      has  kye, 


They  ha'e     taen 
A  house 


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Ja  -  mie        that       delv'd    in        the       yard,         Wha      play'd 
had  -  den,        an'  sil   -   ler       for    -   bye,        Yet  I'd     tak 


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my    ain      lad, 


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them  a'.  He  said,'think        na  lang, 

an'  land.       But  sim     -    mer  is 


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hand,      Be      -      fore 


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I'd    hae     him       wi'       his     hou    -    ses 


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III. 

My  daddie  looks  sulky,  my  minnie  looks  sour, 
They  gloom  upon  Jamie  because  he  is  puir  ; 

Though  I  loe  them  as  weel  as  a  daughter  should  do, 
They  are  no  half  so  dear  to  mc,  Jamie,  as  you. 

He  said,  think  na  lang,  lassie,  tho'  I  gang  awa', 
For  I'll  come  and  see  thee  in  spite  o'  them  a'.' 


IV. 

I  sit  on  my  creepie  an'  spin  at  my  wheel, 
An'  think  on  the  laddie  that  loes  me  sae  weel; 

He  had  but  ae  saxpence,  he  brak  it  in  twa, 
An'  he  gae  me  the  half  o't  when  he  gaed  awa'. 

But  the  simmer  is  comin',  cauld  winter's  awa', 
Then  haste  ye  back,  Jamie,  and  bide  no  awa'. 


S6 


COMIN'   THRO'   THE    RYE. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


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2.  Gin      a 


bo-dy      meet      a     bo-dy 
bo-dy      meet      a     bo-dy 


•net— #-?— *-v-»— 

Co-min'    thro1    the  rye, 
Co-min'    frae      the  well, 


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Need       a       bo-dy      cry  ? 
Need      a       bo-dy      tell  ? 


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II  -  ka    las-sie      has      her  lad-die,     Nane    they  say      hae       I  !  Yet 

II   -    ka    las-sie      has      her  lad-die,     Ne'er      a   ane      hae        I  !  But 


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a'      the  lads  they  smile    at     me,   When  comin' thro' the  rye 

a'     the  lads  they  smile    on    me,   When  comin'  thro'  the  rye. 

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Gin  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  frae  the  town, 
Gin  a  body  greet  a  body, 

Need  a  body  frown  ? 
Ilka  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane  they  say  hae  I ; 
But  a'  the  lads  they  loe  me  wee!, 

And  what  the  waur  am  I  ? 


IV. 

Amang  the  train  there  is  a  swain 

I  dearly  lo'e  mysel ; 
But  whaur  his  hame,  or  what  his  name, 

I  dinna  care  to  tell. 
Ilka  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane  they  say  hae  I ; 
But  a'  the  lads  they  loe  me  weel, 

And  what  the  waur  am  I  ? 


Voice, 


I'M  OWRE  YOUNG  TO  MARRY  YET. 


37 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhilL. 


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I'm   owre  young,  I'm  owre  young,  I'm 


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owre    young    to  mar  -  ry     yet,   I'm      owre    young,  'twad   be      a    sin    To     tak      me  frae     my  mam-mie    yet. 


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i.     I      am       my  mam-mie's     ae      bairn,  Nor      of      my  hame  I'm  wea  -  ry  yet;  And 
2.  For       I      have  had    my       ain      way,  Nane  dare      to  con  -  tra  -  diet  me  yet  :  Sae 


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you        learn,      lads,       That 
I        wad    o  -  bey,  In 


ye 
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III. 

Fu'  loud  and  shrill  the  frosty  wind 
Blows  through  the  leafless  timber,  Sir ; 

But  if  ye  come  this  gate  again, 
I'll  aulder  be  gin  summer,  Sir. 

For  I'm  owre  young,  &c. 


3« 


0  WAT  YE  WHA'S  IN  YON  TOWN. 


Written  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill 


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wat  ye    wha's        in         yon 


town,      Ye       see  the    e'en    -    ing        sun        up    -    on,  The 


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sweet    -    est  maid's         in         yon 


town  That        e'en     -     ing     sun        is  shin  -  ing  on. 


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hap  -  ly  by      yon         gay  green  shaw,  She 

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O   WAT   YE   WHA'S    IN   YON   TOWN. 


59 


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wan 
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dcrs      by 
come      in 


the 
the 


spread 
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tree; 
year ; 


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ces 
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dear. 


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III. 

The  sun  blinks  blythe  in  yon  town, 
Amang  yon  broomy  braes  sae  green  ; 

But  my  delight  is  yon  town, 

And  dearest  pleasure  is  my  Jean. 

O  wat  ye,  &c. 
IV. 

Without  my  love  not  a1  the  charms 
Of  Paradise  could  yield  me  joy  ; 

But  gie  me  Jeanie  in  my  arms, 

And  welcome  Lapland's  dreary  sky. 

O  wat  ye,  &c. 
v. 

My  cave  would  be  a  lover's  bow'r, 
Though  raging  winter  rent  the  air  ; 

And  she  a  lovely,  little  flow'r, 
That  I  would  tent  and  shelter  there. 
O  wat  ye,  &c. 

VI. 

If  angry  fate  be  sworn  my  foe, 
And  suffering  I  am  doomed  to  bear ; 

If  careless  quit  all  else  below, 

But  spare,  oh  !  spare  my  Jeanie  dear. 

O  wat  ye,  &c. 
Vii. 

For  while  life's  dearest  blood  runs  warm, 
My  thoughts  frae  her  shall  ne'er  depart  ; 

For  as  most  lovely  is  her  form, 
She  has  the  truest,  kindest  heart. 

O  wat  ye,  &c. 


4© 


JOHNNIE  AND  MARY. 


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Old  Ballad. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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r.     Down      the  burn     and 
2.      Cost  -  ly  claiths    she 


through  the  mead,     His 
had        but    few ;      Of 


gol  -  den  locks    wav'd 
rings     and    jew    -     els 


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John   -  nie,     lilt   -   ing, 
face       was    fair,      her 


tun'd     his    reed,     And 
love     was    true,      And 


Ma  -  ry      wip'd       her 
John  -  nie    wise    -    ly 


bon     -    nie     mou'. 
wish'd        nae     mair. 


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Dear    she       lo'ed       the 
Love's    the     pearl       the 

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shep  -  herds  prize, 


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While      her     John   -  nie, 

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JOHNNIE  AND   MARY. 


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Sung        her    praise    the  .     .     whole  day      long.     ■» 
Love        de  -  lights      the  .     .     shep  -  herd's  eyes.    > 


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Down      the  burn       and        through  the  mead,   His 

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John  -  nie,     lilt 
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III. 

Gold  and  titles  give  not  health, 

And  Johnnie  could  na  these  impart ; 
Youthfu'  Mary's  greatest  wealth 

Was  still  her  faithfu'  Johnnie's  heart. 
Sweet  the  joys  the  lovers  find, 
Great  the  treasure,  sweet  the  pleasure, 
Where  the  heart  is  always  kind. 
Down  the  burn,  &c. 


I  WINNA  BE  WEEL, 


Voice. 


Written  by  T.  Dodd. 


Music  by  T.  Macfarlane. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhiix. 


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I        win  -  na  be      weel,       for       I        can  -  na  be     weel,  The       laird       an'      his        sil  -  ler        may 


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I   WINNA   BE    VVEEL. 


43 


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I    My        mo    -    ther  says  a  laird's     a    catch,  My  fa    -    ther   fain  wad        rnak'        a  match,  But 

2.  Was  he  gude  as  a      saint  an'     wise    as    a     sage,  His         widdom    or    worth      for  my  heart  is    nae  pledge,    I 


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I'll        no  be  a  gau       -      dy  wretch,    To  pine  my  life  an'  a.' 

wish,  as      a  lassie       should     wish      at       my     age,       Ane        young       what     -     e'er        may  fa. 


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D.C. 


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in. 

My  truly,  it's  an  unco  sight 
To  see  an  auld  blin'  donard  wight, 
Wha  scarcely  kens  the  day  frae  night, 
Begin  a  lang  fraca. 

I  winna  be  weel,  &c. 

IV. 

Sighing,  but  mair  for  the  want  o'  his  breath 
Than  love  at  his  heart,  though  maybe  bai'.h- 
Smiling  on  me  as  if  girnin',  gude  faith, 
He  says,  '  O  lass,  ye're  braw.' 
I  winna  be  weel,  &c. 


His  cauldrife  jokes  an'  ghastly  fun 
He  maks  an'  cracks  till  out  o'  wun', 
Then  tells  me  o'  his  gowd  an'  grun', 
To  wyle  my  heart  awa.' 

I  winna  be  weel,  &e. 

vr. 

He  woo's  like  a  beggar  that's  seeking  his  bread, 
Sae  pitifu'-like  his  e'e  stands  in  his  head, 
A'  tremblin',  just  as  he  was  in  a  weed, 
He  says,  '  Tak'  me  an'  a'.' 

I  winna  be  weel,  &c. 

VII. 

If  I  but  smile,  the  body  is  glad ; 
If  I  but  gloom,  the  body  is  sad ; 
For  fear  I  put  the  body  mad, 
I  daurna  tell  him  na. 

I  winna  be  weel,  &c. 


U 


44 


THE  SCOTCH  BLUE  BELL. 


1 


Written  by  A.  MACLAGAN. 
Allegretto. 


Music  by  T.  Macfarlane. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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The     Scotch    blue  bell, 

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the      Scotch    blue  bell,        The        dear     blue  bell        for       me, 

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Me 


1.  I  lo'e       thee     weel,     thou     Scotch    blue  bell,  I  hail      thee,     flow'    -  ret        fair,     .     .     . 

2.  When      e'e    -  nin's     gow    -  den         cur  -  tains  hing        O'er      moor     and      moun  -  tain       gray, 


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THE   SCOTCH    BLUE    BELL. 


45 


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hear       the 


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bells  sing 


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the     light       o' 


bare       rough  rocks,     Or 
morn    -    ing  wakes    The 


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foun    -    tain's       flow'     -     ry  brink ;      .      .         Where       fleet        as    wind        in  thirs     -     ty    flocks,   The 

young       dew       drouk    -    et         flower's,    .     .  I  hear        a  -  mid      their  mer     -    ry     peals     The 

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III. 

How  aft  wi'  rapture  I  hae  strayed 

The  mountain's  heather  crest, 
There  aft  wi'  thee  hae  I  arrayed 

My  Mary's  maiden  breast. 
Aft  tremblin'  marked  amang  the  bells 

.Her  bosom  fa'  and  rise, 
Like  snawy  cloud  that  sinks  and  swells 

'Neath  summer's  deep  blue  skies. 

The  Scotch  blue  bell,  &c 


46 


WHEN  THE  KING  COMES  OWRE  THE  WATER. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Lady  Keith. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHIIX. 


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1.  I     may     sit    in  my  wee 

2.  O      gin      I   live         to  see 


croo  house,  At     the     rock    and    the  reel  to  toil      fu'     drea-iy; 

the    day,        That  I  hae    begg'd      and     begg'd  frae  Hea  -  ven ; 


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I      may  think  on  the 

I'll     fling  my  rock        and 


I 


day      that's    gane,       And       sigh        and      sab        till 
reel        a    -    way,        And     dance      and      sing      frae 


I       grow  wea   -    ry. 
morn    till      e     -     ven : 


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I     ne'er  could  brook,  I       ne'er       could  brook         A      foreign  loon  to         own       or    flatter,      But 

For  there     is        ane,  I       win      -    na      name,     That  comes  the         reign      -      ing      bike        to   scatter,     And 


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WHEN  THE   KING   COMES    OWRE   THE   WATER. 


47 


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I         will  sing  a    -    nith    -    er        sang,     That      day        our      king    comes      owre    the   wa  -  ter. 

I'll        put  on  my        bri    -    dal        gown,    That     day        our      king    comes      owre    the    wa  -  ter. 


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I  hae  seen  the  guid  auld  day, 

The  day  o'  pride  and  chieftain  glory, 
When  Royal  Stuarts  bore  the  sway, 

And  ne'er  heard  tell  o'  Whig  nor  Tory. 
Though  lyart  be  my  locks  and  grey, 

And  eild  has  crook'd  me  down,  what  matter. 
I'll  dance  and  sing  ae  ither  day, 

That  day  our  king  comes  o'er  the  water. 


IV. 

0  curse  on  dull  and  drawling  Whig, 

The  whining,  ranting,  low  deceiver, 
Wi'  heart  sae  black  and  look  sae  big, 

And  canting  tongue  o'  clishmaclaver. 
My  father  was  a  good  lord's  son, 

My  mother  was  an  Earl's  daughter, 
And  I'll  be  Lady  Keith  again, 

That  day  our  king  comes  owre  the  water 


4« 


Voice. 


THE  CLEAN  HEARTHSTANE, 


Written  by  J.  MOFFAT. 


Music  by  J.  Drummond. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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ter    wi'  his    scou 

my  gloa    -     min'   o'er 


rin'  sleet       Blaws      keen      out     o'er       the      Camp  -  sie      fells,      An' 
the    lift       Spreads      out       his    dark  -   nin'     clouds      o'      gray,      An' 


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When  Burn    -    i    -    brae      wi'        fear        some  dim 
Then  Jean   -   nie         in        our  co     -      sie      cot, 


His      roar     -     in'     flood    sends    down  the  glen,      How 
Our      bair    -    nies   round     us  a'       sae   fair,       Con  ■ 


THE   CLEAN  HEARTHSTANE. 


49 


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our      clean    hearthstane. 


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The  blissfu'  hours  on  downy  wings, 

Afore  we  min',  flee  by  sae  sune, 
An'  fleetly,  while  my  Jeanie  sings, 

Her  wheel  gaes  roun'  wi'  cheerie  croon. 
Douce  drowsie  Colie  o'er  his  nap, 

Perplext  wi'  nocht  o'  grief  or  pain, 
Wi'  baudrons  thrummin'  on  his  back, 

Lies  beekin'  on  the  clean  hearthstane. 

IV. 

Auld  pawkie  Brownie  tunes  his  lyre, 

His  sair  won  fee  to  bid  us  min', 
An'  frienly  Hawkie  frae  the  byre 

Wad  fain  let  on  it's  milkin'  time. 
The  baimies  roun'  the  ingle  cheek 

Frae  minnie  syne  their  luggies  claim, 
An'  tentless  by  the  crowdie  sweet 

They  draible  on  her  clean  hearthstane. 


Let  gawkie  fashion's  glaikit  slaves 

To  gaudy  flauntin'  cities  run, 
'Mang  grandeur's  halls  in  splendour's  blaze, 

Snell  winter's  cauldrife  breath  to  shun. 
Kind  Heav'n  to  me  my  Jeanie  lea'e, 
Nae  purer  worldly  bliss  I  ken, 

Wi'  bonnie  bairnies  on  my  knee, 

Or  smilin'  roun'  the  clean  hearthstane. 


MY  WILLIE  AND  ME. 


Voice. 


Written  by  W.  Cameron. 


I 


Music  by  W.  MORRIS. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleaphill. 


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won  -  der'd        if         on     -     y        twa 


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PS 


They    lilt  -  ed    a  -  bout,  and  sae   blythe-ly     they  sang,  They  flut-ter'd   and   court-ed      I         ken-na    how  lang  ;  My 
They    a'     maybe   hap  -  py,  what  for  should  they  no  V  And      las-ses      fu'     mic-kle     may     think   o'     their   jo;     But 


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heart  was    as    hap- py    and     fu'      as    could  be,      They  mind-ed    me   sae      o'     my    Wil-lie     and    me,       They 
nae  -  thing  on  earth,  in    the      air,     or    the    sea,  Can  be  half  sae    as    hap  -  py      as     Wil  -  lie     and    me,     Can  be 


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mind  -  ed   me    sac     o'        my     Wil-lie        and    me. 
half     sae    as     hap  -py        as      Wil  -lie        and    me. 


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My  Willie's  sae  guid,  and  my  Willie's  sae  kin', 
And  then,  O  thank  Heaven,  dear  Willie  is  mine ! 
In  the  ioy  a'  my  heart  the  tear  draps  frae  my  e'e, 
To  think  we're  sae  happy,  my  Willie  and  me ! 
The  hero  may  sigh  for  mair  laurels — the  loon — 
The  tyrant  may  grasp  at  a  kingdom  or  crown ; 
Contented  and  happy  I'd  live  till  I  dee, 
Though  they  tak'  a'  the  world  but  my  Willie  and  me ' 


s* 


THE  TRYSTIN'  TREE. 


Written  by  E.  Conolly. 


i 


Music  by  T.  Macfarlane, 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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5 


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sat           be    -     neath 
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tin'       tree, 
tin'      tree, 

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bon-nie 

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trys  -  tin'  tree, 
far      and  wide, 


Where     Har  -  ry      tauld 
An'    thocht    up  - 


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ear    -    ly     youth,         His        ten  -  der      tale  of 

bon    -  nie    bairns       That      blest    our    blythe  bit 

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THE  TRYSTIN'   TREE. 


53 


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tur'd        what        our      -      sels 


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il    -    ka   heart,        An'        joy   -   fu'      tears  in  il    -    ka    e'e,         We 

il    -    ka  heart,        An'        joy   -   fu'       tears  in  il     -    ka    e'e,  We 


sat        a   -  gain,      fond 
blest    the     hour       that 


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lov-ers  still, 

e'er  we  met 


Be-neath 
Be-neath 


thebon  -  nie 
the  dear    auld 


trys 
trys 


tin  tree, 
tin' tree. 


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54 


Voicz. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


GREEN  GROW  THE  RASHES,  0. 


Written  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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1.  There's  nought  but  care  in  cv-ry   han',  In 

2.  The      warld  -ly  race  may  riches  chase.  An' 


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ev'  -  ry  hour    that  passes,       O  ;  What      sig   -  ni-fiesthe     life     o'    man,  An'       'twere  na  for       the    lasses,      O- 
riches     still    may  fly  them,    O;    An'      though  at  last  they  catch  them  fast,  Their  hearts  can  ne'er    en-joy  them,     O. 


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III. 

Gie  me  a  cannie  hour  at  e'en, 
My  arms  about  my  dearie,  O, 

An'  warldly  cares  an'  warldly  men 
May  a'  gae  tapsalteerie,  O. 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O,  &c. 


IV. 

For  you  sae  douce  wha  sneer  at  this, 
Ye're  nought  but  senseless  asses,  O ; 

The  wisest  man  the  world  e'er  saw, 
He  dearly  lo'ed  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O,  &c 


Auld  Nature  swears,  the  lovely  dears, 
Her  noblest  work  she  classes,  O  ; 
Her  prentice  han'  she  tried  on  man, 
And  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O,  &c. 


Voice. 


THE  BIRKS  OF  ABERFELDY. 


Piano- 
Forte.  ^ 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


8 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill 

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Bon  -  nie    las-sie,    will      ye 


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Will      ye     go,      will    ye       go,     .      Bon   -  nie  las  -  sie,    will      ye     go      To  the   birks     of       A-  ber  -  fel    -    dy? 


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i.     Now    sim  -  mer  blinks  on     flow'  -  ry    braes,  And 
2.    While    o'er   their  heads  the     ha  -  zels   hing,    The 


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o'er   the  crys  -  tal    stream-let  plays  ;  Come,  let    us  spend  the  lightsome  days  In  the  birks  of      A  -  ber  -fel     -    dy. 
lit    -  tie    bir  -  dies     blythe-ly  sing,    Or      light  -  ly    flit    on    wan  -  ton  wing,  In  the  birks  of      A  -  ber  -fel     -     dy. 


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3.  The  braes  ascend  like  lofty  wa's, 
The  foamin'  stream  deep  roaring  fa's, 
O'erhung  wi'  fragrant  spreading  shaws, 
The  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 


#■■*■'  '     *  '  '  I 

4.  The  hoary  cliffs  are  crown'd  wi'  flowers, 
White  o'er  the  linn  the  burnie  pours, 
And,  risin',  weets  wi'  misty  show'rs 
The  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 
5.   Let  fortune's  gifts  at  random  flee, 
They  ne'er  shall  draw  a  wish  frae  me, 
Supremely  bless'd  wi'  love  an'  thee, 
In  the  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie,  &c. 


5<> 


THE  CAMPBELLS  ARE  COMIN*. 


Author  of  words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.Gleadhil^ 


Voice. 


Piano- 
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The  Campbells  are    com  -  in',      O     •    ho,     O     ho  !  '  The     Campbells   are  com  -  in',     O       ho,  O    ho  !    The 


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Campbells  are     com-in'    to         bon  -  nie  Loch  -  le  -  ven  ;  The  Campbells  are    com-in',     O        ho,       O     ho! 


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THE   CAMPBELLS  ARE  COMIN.' 


57 


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1.  Up    -    on  the   Lomonds  I         lay,  I        lay,        Up  -  on  the  Lomonds    I         lay,  I     lay ;        I 

2.  Great      Ar    -    gyll,    he      goes  be    -  fore,       He    makes      the   can-nons  and    guns  to  roar,      Wi' 


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look     -    ed        down 
sound        o'         trum 


to       bon  -  nie  Loch  -  le  -  ven,    And        saw        three      bon    -     nie      per  -  dies  play, 
pet,    pipe,  .  .  .  and  drum,  .  .      The    Campbells    are    comin',      O        ho,      O        ho  ! 


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III. 


The  Campbells  they  are  a'  in  arms, 
Their  loyal  faith  and  truth  to  show ; 

Wi'  banners  rattling  in  the  wind, 
1  &e  Campbells  are  comin',  O  bo!  O  hi' 
The  Campbells  are  comin',  ftc. 


5» 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


THE  WEE,  WEE  GERMAN  LAIRDIE. 

Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 


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deil       hae    we    got   -   ten       for         a        king,      But    a        wee,      wee       Ger    -    man  Lair    -    die;    When 

he's       clap -pit  down    in  our  gude  -  man's   chair,         The  wee,      wee       Ger    -     man  Lair    -    die;      And 


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we      gaed    owre 
he's  brought  fouth 


to        bring      him     hame,      He    was         del    -    vin'    in       his       kail 
o'  his       fo    -  reign    trash,  And  dib  -  bled  them      in         his 


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yar    -   die. 
yar    -    die. 


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He   was       sheugh  -  ing        kail 
He's  pu'd        the        rose 


and  lay     -    ing        leeks,        With     -     out  the        hose 

o'  Eng    -    lish        loons,        And        brok'n       the        harp 


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THE   WEE,   WEE   GERMAN  LAIRDIE 


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breeks, 
clowns, 


And 
But 


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wee, 
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wee  Ger     -     man 

wee  Ger    -    man 


Lair 
Lair 


die. 
die. 


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in. 

Come  up  amang  our  Hieland  hills, 

Thou  wee,  wee  German  Lairdie, 
And  see  the  Stuart's  lang  kail  thrive, 

They  hae  dibbled  in  our  kail  yardie. 
And  if  a  stock  ye  daur  to  pu\ 

Or  baud  the  yokin'  o'  a  plough, 
We'll  break  your  sceptre  ower  your  mou', 

Ye  feckless  German  Lairdie. 

Iv. 

Auld  Scotland  thou'rt  ower  cauld  a  hoL. 

For  nursin'  siccan  vermin  ; 
But  the  very  dogs  in  England's  court, 

They  bark  and  howl  in  German. 
Then  keep  thy  dibble  in  thy  ain  hand, 

Thy  spade  but  and  thy  yardie  ; 
For  wha  the  deil  now  claims  your  land 

But  a  wee,  wee  German  Lairdie. 


E 


6o 


MY  AIN  FIRESIDE. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Mrs.  HAMILTON. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 


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1.  O  I  hae    seen    great      anes      and  sat        in    great        ha's,  Mang 

2.  Ance  mair,    gude    be      prais'd,  round    my        ain     heart-some       ingle,       Wi'  the 


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lords      and  mang     la   -    dies      a' 
friends      o'     my    youth    .    .         I 


cov  -  er'd 
cor  -  dial 


wi'      braws ; 
ly      mingle ; 


But  a         sight       sae     de  -  light  -  ful,      I 
Nae  forms      to     com  -  pel      me      to 


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spied,  As       the         bon   -    nie  blythe    blink 

glad,  I      may      laugh    when    I'm     mer 


o'      my  ain  fire  -  side, 

ry    and  sigh  when  I'm      sad. 


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Piu  animato 


MY  AIN   FIRESIDE. 

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61 


hi. 

Nae  falsehood  to  dread,  and  nae  malice  to  fear, 
But  truth  to  delight  me,  and  friendship  to  cheer  ; 
Of  a'  roads  to  happiness  ever  were  tried, 
There's  nane  half  sae  sure  as  ane's  ain  fireside. 
My  ain  fireside,  &c 


fit 


COME  O'ER  THE  STREAM,  CHARLIE. 


Written  by  JAMES  HOGG. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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Come    o'er         the  stream, Char -lie,    dear     Char  -  lie,    brave    Char  -  lie,    Come     o'er         the  stream,  Char -lie,     and 


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dine  with    Mac  -  lean ;     And  though  you  be  wea  -    ry,      we'll      make    your   heart         chee    -    ry,         And 


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wel  -  come  our     Char  -  lie     and      his    loy  -    al      train. 


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Fine. 


COME   O'ER   THE    STREAM,  CHARLIE. 


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1.  We'll   bring    down       the 

2.  And      you       shall     drink 


red      deer,     we'll      bring    down       the 
free    -    ly         the       dews       of         Glen 

— I 1- 


black    steer,    The      lamb    from        the 
sheer  -  ly,       That    stream     in  the 


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breck   -    an  and  doe        from  the  glen  ;         The  salt  sea        we'll 

star    -    light,      when        kings       din      -      na  ken,  And  deep         be         your 


har  -  ry, 
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bring       to         our 
wine    that        is 


Char  -  lie         The      cream      from    the        bo    -    thy 
red,  To        drink         to      your      sire        and 


4- 

and       curd      from         the         pen. 

his       friend,     the        Mac    -  lean. 


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III. 

If  aught  will  invite  you,  or  more  will  delight  you, 
'Tis  ready— a  troop  of  our  bold  Highland  men 

Shall  range  on  the  heather,  with  bonnet  and  feather, 
Strong  arms  and  broad  claymores,  three  hundred  and  ten. 
Come  o'er  the  stream,  Charlie,  &c 


64 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


JOHN  ANDERSON,  MY  JO. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhitx. 


Voice. 


Andante. 


^—1}-* 


A 


i.  John    An  -  der-son,my 
2.  John    An  -  der-son,my 


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I  I  "II  Ml 

jo,         John,     When      we    were    first     ac  -  quent, 
jo,        John,       We        clamb  the    hill      to  -  gether, 


Your    locks  were  like    the         ra     -      ven,  Your 
And     mony    a      can  -  ty        day,        John,  We've 


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bon  -  nie  brow  was     brent  ; 
had       wi  ane      a  -  nither  ; 


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But       now    you're  tur  -  ning      auld, 
Now       w'e      maun  tot  -  ter    down, 


John,  Your  locks        are  like    the 
John,  But     hand         in  hand  we'll 


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snaw,  But        bles  -  sings  on     your       fros  -  ty    pow,  John       An  -  der  -  son,     my  jo. 

go,  And  we'll    sleep  the   -  gi-ther  at      the    foot,  John      An  -  der  -  son,     my  jo. 


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MY  AIN  KIND  DEARIE,  0. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


5S3 


6<r 


Arranged  by  T  S.  Gleadhill. 
-^  k-^ — -J*r 


35= 


-?—*■ 


Andantino. 


i.    When   o'er  the  hill   the  east -em  star  Tells 
2.        In       mirkest  glen,  at  midnight  hour, I'd 


bught  -  in    time    is  'near,  my   jo  ;     And         ow  -  sen  frae  the    fur-row'd  field  Re    -   turn    sae  dowf  and  wea  -  ry,      O  ; 
rove  and  ne'er   be     ee  -  rie,   O;      If  thro' that  glen    I     gaed  to     thee,  My  ain    .     .    kind       dea-rie,      O; 


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Down       by 
Al  -  though 

PS? 

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the    burn  where    seen 
the    night  were      ne'er 


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ted    birks    Wi'       dew 
sae      wild,  And  I 


are 
were 


hang    -    ing     clear,   my      jo  ;       I'll 
ne'er         sae     wea  -  ry,      O  ;       I'd 


-«-^r 


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meet  thee  on    the 
meet  thee  on    the 


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lea     rig,      my 


lea     rier, 


my 


am 
ain 


kind 
kind 


dea  -  rie,     O. 
dca  -  rie,     O. 


III. 

The  hunter  loes  the  morning  sun, 

To  rouse  the  mountain  deer,  my  jo  ; 
At  noon  the  fisher  seeks  the  glen, 

Alang  the  burn  to  steer,  my  jo  ; 
Gie  me  the  hour  o'  gloamin'  gray, 

It  males  my  heart  sae  cheerie,  O, 
To  meet  thee  on  the  lea  rig, 

My  ain  kind  dearie,  O. 


66 


A   HIGHLAND   LAD, 


Voice. 


( 

Piano  J 
Forte. 


Words  by  ROBERT  BURNS. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


g — f4 — f^ 


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Allegretto. 


9 


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i.  A  High  -  land       lad  my        love      was      born,      The    Low  -  land      laws         he 

2.      Wi'  his      phil    -     a     -     beg         an'  tar   -    tan      plaid,      An'    gude      clay  -  more       down 


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High  -  land  -  man. 
High  -  land  -  man. 


Sing  hey,         my 


braw        John 


High       -      land      -       man  ;  Sing 


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III. 

They  banished  him  beyond  the  sea, 
But  ere  the  bud  was  on  the  tree, 
Adown  my  cheeks  the  pearls  ran, 
Embracing  my  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,  my  braw  John  Highlandman, 
Sing  ho,  my  braw  John  Highlandman  ; 
There's  no  a  lad  in  a'  the  Ian' 
Was  match  for  my  John  Highlandman, 
IV. 

But  oh  !  they  catch'd  him  at  the  last, 

An'  bound  him  in  a  dungeon  fast ; 

My  curse  upon  them,  every  one, 

They've  hanged  my  braw  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,  my  braw  John  Highlandman, 
Sing  ho,  my  braw  John  Highlandman  ; 
There's  no  a  lad  in  a'  the  Ian' 
Was  match  for  my  John  Highlandman. 


68 


THE  HUNDRED  PIPERS. 


Words  by  Baroness  Nairne. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhiix. 


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Voice. 


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2.  Oh,    our 


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hun   -  dred     pi  -  pers      an'       a',         an'       a',  Wi'    a      hun  -  dred    pi  -  pers   an       a',         an'      a',         We'll 

sod    -    ger    lads  look'd  braw,  look'd  braw,      Wi'  their  tar    -   tan    kilts  an'       a',         an'       a',       Wi'  their 


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up  an'      gie   them       a        blaw,         a      blaw,       Wi'    a        hun   -   dred      pi  -   pers     an'         a,  an'      a. 

bon-nets  and   fea  -  thers    and        glitt'r  -  in'      gear,  An'  pi  -   brochs  sound  -  ing     sweet      and    clear. 


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Oh,    it's  owre      the     bor  -  der       a    -    wa',       a  -  wa'      It's     owre       the     bor  -  der      a    -    wa',       a  -  wa',     We'll 
Will  they      a'  re  -  turn      to     their     ain     dear  glens  ?  Will  they  a'        re  -turn,  our    High  -  land  men,     Second 


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I  HE   HUNDRED   PIPERS 


69 


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on      an'  we'll    march 
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dy    look'd      fu'    wae,         And  mi  -  thers  grat  when  they  marched  a  -  way 


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0  wha  is  foremaist  o'  a',  o'  a'  ? 
O  wha  does  follow  the  blaw,  the  blaw  ? 
Bonnie  Charlie,  the  king  o'  us  a',  hurrah  ! 
Wi'  his  hundred  pipers  an'  a',  an'  a'. 
His  bonnet  and  feather  he's  wavin'  high, 
His  prancin'  steed  maist  seems  to  fly  ! 
The  nor'  win'  plays  wi'  his  curly  hair, 
While  the  pipers  blaw  wi'  an  unco  flare . 
Wi'  a  hundred  pipers,  &c. 


\ 


IV. 

The  Esk  was  swollen  sae  red  and  sae  deep, 
But  shouther  to  shouther  the  brave  lads  keep, 
Twa  thousand  swam  o'er  to  fell  English  ground, 
An'  danced  themselves  dry  to  the  pibroch's  sound. 
Dumfounder'd  the  English  saw,  they  saw, 
Dumfounder'd  they  heard  the  blaw,  the  blaw, 
Dumfounder'd  they  a'  ran  awa',  awa\ 
Frae  the  hundred  pipers  an'  a',  an'  a'. 

Wi'  a  hundred  pipers,  &c 


70 


Voice. 


Words  by  Rodert  Burns. 


BONNIE  BRIER  BUSH. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  There  grows  a  bonnie    brier  bush    in 

2.  But     were  they     a'         true     that  are 


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the  blossoms  o't        in       our 
true  that    were    far 


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Like    wee    bit  white  cock-ades     for     our      loy- al  High-land    lads;     And  the    las  -  ses  loe  the      brier    bush    in 
They  drew  up      wi  glai-kit     Englishers     at  Car     -     lisle  ha',        And     for     -     got      auld        frien's       when 


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Ye'll  come  nae  mair,  Jamie,  where  aft  ye  hae  been  ; 
Ye'll  come  nae  mair,  Jamie,  where  aft  ye  hae  been  ; 
Yc  lo'ed  ower  weel  the  dancin'  at  Carlisle  ha', 
An'  forgot  the  Hielan'  hills  that  were  far  awa'. 

He's  comin'  frae  the  north  that's  to  fancy  me  ; 
He's  comin'  frae  the  north  that's  to  fancy  me  ; 
A  feather  in  his  bonnet,  and  a  ribbon  at  his  knee, 
He's  a  bonnie  Hieian'  laddie,  and  you  be  na  he. 


SCOTS  WHA  HAE  WF  WALLACE  BLED. 


71 


Voice. 


1 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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Maestoso 


1.  Scots,  wha  hae    wi' 

2.  Wha   will   be      a 


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Wal  -  lace  bled, 
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Scots,  wham  Bruce  has        of  -  ten    led ! 
Wha     can    fill        a        cow  -  ard's  grave  ? 


Wei  -  come  to      your       go 
Wha    sae    base     as        be 


ry     bed,     Or    to     vie  -  to     -     ry. 
a    slave  ?  Let  him  turn   and      flee  ! 


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Now's    the    day,      and    now's    the  hour ;    See     the  front      of         bat  -  tie    lour — 
Wha      for     Scot  -  land's    king    and  law,      Free-  dom's  sword  will    strong  -  ly   draw, 


See  ap-proach  proud 

Free  -   man  stand      or 


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Edward's  pow'r,  Chains  and  sla  -  ve    -    ry. 
Free  -  man  fa',    Let      him  fol  -  low      me. 


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3.  By  oppression's  woes  and  pains, 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains, 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 

But  they  shall  be  free. 
Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  1 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foel 
Liberty's  in  every  blow ! 
Let  us  do  or  die! 


-3- 


7* 


THERE  WAS  A  LAD  WAS  BORN  IN  KYLE. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns, 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhiix. 


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Voice. 


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Allegretto. 


i.     There 
2.      Our 


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was  a         lad 

mon  -  arch's  hind 


was         born        in       Kyle,        But        what      na        day,  o'        what     na       style,         I 

most    year         but       ane  Was       five        and      twen    -    ty  days     be   -  gun,      'Twas 


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worth       the    while       To  be      sae         nice  wi'         Ro    - 

Jan    -     war     win'       Blew        han  -  sel  in  on  Ro    - 


bin. 

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THERE   WAS   A    LAD   WAS    BORN   IN   KYLE. 


73 


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ran  -    tin',     ro    -  vin',       Ro     -    bin 


was 


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III. 

The  gossip  keekit  in  his  loof, 
Quo'  she,  wha  lives  will  see  the  proof, 
This  waly  boy  will  be  nae  coof, 
I  think  we'll  ca'  him  Robin. 

For  Robin  was  a  rovin'  boy,  &o. 


IV. 

He'll  hae  misfortunes  great  and  sma , 
But  aye  a  heart  aboon  them  a' ; 
He'll  be  a  credit  to  us  a', 

We'll  a'  be  proud  o'  Robin. 

For  Robin  was  a  rovin'  boy,  ka 


V. 

But  sure  as  three  times  three  mak'  nine, 
I  see  by  ilka  score  and  line, 
This  chap  will  dearly  like  our  kin', 
So  leeze  me  on  thee,  Robin. 

For  Robin  was  a  rovin'  bov 


BONNIE  DUNDEE. 


j 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Written  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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Or 


Lords      of       Con  -  ven  -  tion    'twas       Cla  -   ver  -  house  spoke,  "  Ere    the      King's  crown    go     down    there      are 
dee       he        is     moun  -  ted,      he        rides       up      the     street,  The      bells      they    ring    back  -  ward,    the 


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crowns        to      be      broke  ;       Then      each        ca    -    va    -    lier       that      loves    hon    -    our       and       me,         Let   him 
drums      they  are       beat  ;     But  the    pro    -   vost  (douce    man)    said    'just      e;en        let         it  be,        For   the 


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fol  -  low         the       bon  -  nets         o'        Bon  -  nie        Dun  -    dee.  ■» 
town     is         well       rid        o'        that        deil       o'         Dun  -  dee'. J  Come       fiU        UP        m? 


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my     men  ; 


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and      let  us     gae       free,       For    it's        up        with      the        bon-nets 


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in. 

There  are  hills  beyond  Pentland,  and  lands  beyond  Forth, 
If  there's  lords  in  the  south,  there  are  chiefs  in  the  north  : 
There  are  brave  Dunniewassals,  three  thousand  times  three, 
Will  cry  '  hey  for  the  bonnets  o'  bonnie  Dundee.' 

Come  fill  up  my  cup,  &c. 


IV. 

'men  awa'  to  the  hills,  to  the  lea,  to  the  rocks, 
Ere  I  own  a  usurper  I'll  crouch  \vi'  the  fox ; 
And  tremble,  false  Whigs,  in  the  midst  o'  your  ijlee, 
Ye  hae  no  seen  the  last  o'  my  bonnets  an'  me. 

Come  fill  up  my  cup,  &c 


76 


VOICE. 


Piano- 
forte. 


BONNIE  WEE  THING. 


i 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 

Hz 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Andante. 


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Bon  -  nie    wee  thing,    can  -  nie       wee  thing,  Love-ly     wee  thing 

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ful  -  ly  I         look      and    Ian  -  guish  In 

and  grace     and      love       and     beau  -  ty     In 


that    bon  -  nie      face      o'       thine,     And        my  heart     it 
ae     con  -  stel  -  la  -  tion    shine  ;    To  a  -  dore  thee 


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stounds  wi'        an  -  guish,     Lest     my 
is       my        du    -    ty,        God  -  dess 


wee  thing  be       na    mine, 
of     this  soul      o'    mine. 


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BONNIE  MARY  HAY. 


77 


Voice. 


Words  by  A.  Crawford. 

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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 

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i.   Bon-nie    Ma  -ryHay,     I      will    lo'e     thee  yet,  For  thy 
2.   Bon-nie    Ma  -  ry  Hay,  will     ye    gang     wi'    me, When  the 


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e'e  is     the  slae,   and  thy       hair     is    the  jet. 

sun's        in     the  west,    to    the       haw-thorn     tree? 


Bonnie     Ma  -  ry  Hay,      I    will    lo'e       thee  yet,    For  thy 
Bonnie    Ma-  ryHay,    will  ye    gang       wi'    me,  When  the 


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e'e         is   the  slae,    and  thy      hair    is     the  jet.        The      snaw     is    thy  skin,  and  the     rose    is  thy  cheek,        O 
sun's       in  the  west,     to  the       haw  -  thorn  tree?     To  the    haw   -   thorn  tree     in  the    bon-nie  berry  den,     And  I'll 


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bon  -  nie  Ma-ry  Hay,      I     will     lo'e 
tell  you,  Ma-ry  Hay,  how     I        lo'e 


thee  yet. 
you  then. 


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Bonnie  Mary  Hay,  it's  a  haliday  to  me, 
When  thou  art  couthie,  kind,  and  free  ; 
There's  nae  cloud  in  the  lift  nor  storm  in  the  sky, 
O  bonnie  Mary  Hay,  when  thou  art  nigh. 


IV. 


Bonnie  Mary  Hay,  thou  maunna  say  me  nay, 
But  come  to  the  bower  by  the  hawthorn  brae  ; 
But  come  to  the  bower,  an'  I'll  tell  you  what's  true, 
O  Mary,  I  can  never  lo'e  ane  but  you. 


78 


Voice. 


HUNTINGTOWER;  OR  "WHEN  YE  GANG  AWA  JAMIE." 

DUET. 


Old  Ballad. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 
She. 


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1.  When    ye  gang      a- 

2.  That's  nae  gift       a- 


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Jamie, 
Jamie, 


Far 


a  -  cross    the      sea, 


That's  nae    gift       a 


lad  -  die  ;      When    ye    gang      to     Ger  -  ma  -  nie,         What 
lad  -  die,    There's  ne'er  a  gown  in       a'      the     land,  I'd 

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will     ye    send     to 
like  when   ye're     a 


me,      lad  -  die  ?       I'll  send  ye  a  braw    new    gown, 
wa',    lad  -  die.     When  I     come  back      a    -   gain, 


Jea-nie,  I'll  send  ye  a  braw  new 

Jea-nie,      When    I  come  back  a- 


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las-sie,  And      it    shall    be        o'      silk      and    gow'd,     Wi'    Va  -  len-ciennes  set         round,       Ias-sie. 
las-sie,     I'll    bring    wi'    me       a       gal  -  lant     gay,         To     be    your    ain  gude    -    man,         las-sie. 


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HUNTINGTOWER. 


'/9 


in. 

She.     Be  my  gudeman  yoursel',  Jamie, 

Be  my  gudeman  yoursel',  laddie, 
And  tak'  me  ower  to  Germanie, 
Wi'  you  at  hame  to  dwell,  laddie. 
He.     I  dinna  ken  how  that  would  do,  Jeanie, 
I  dinna  ken  how  that  can  be,  lassie, 
For  I've  a  wife  and  bairnies  three, 
And  I'm  no  sure  how  ye'd  gree,  lassie. 

IV. 

She.    You  should  hae  telt  me  that  in  time,  Jamie, 

You  should  hae  telt  me  that  in  time,  laddie, 
For  had  I  kent  o'  your  fause  heart, 
You  ne'er  had  gotten  mine,  laddie. 
He.     Your  een  were  like  a  spell,  Jeanie, 
Your  een  were  like  a  spell,  lassie, 
That  ilka  day  bewitched  me  sae, 
I  couldna'  help  mysel',  lassie. 


V. 

She.    Gae  back  to  your  wife  and  hame,  Jamie, 
Gae  back  to  yo^r  bairnies  three,  laddie, 
And  I  will  pray  they  ne'er  will  thole 
A  broken  heart  like  me,  laddie. 
He.     Dry  that  tearfu'  e'e,  Jeanie, 
My  story's  a'  a  lee,  lassie, 
I've  neither  wife  nor  bairnies  three, 
And  I'll  wed  nane  but  thee,  lassie. 

VI. 

She.    Think  weel  before  ye  rue,  Jamie, 

Think  weel  for  fear  ye  rue,  laddie, 
For  I  hae  neither  gowd  nor  lands, 
To  be  a  match  for  you,  laddie. 
He.     Blair  in  Athol's  mine,  Jeanie, 

Little  Dunkeld  is  mine,  leddy  ; 
Saint  Johnston's  bower  and  Huntingtower, 
An'  a'  that's  mine  is  thine'  lassie. 


DUET  FOR  LAST  FOUR  LINES. 


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John-ston's  bow'r        and       Hunt  -  ing -tow'r, 


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ANNIE  LAWRIE. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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ANNIE    LAWRIE: 


81 


ill. 


Like  dew  on  the  gowan  lying, 

Is  the  fa'  o'  her  fairy  feet ; 
And  like  winds  in  summer  sighing, 

Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet. 
Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet, 

And  she's  a'  the  world  to  me  ; 
Jlr.d  f->r  bonnie  Annie  Lawrit*; 

I'd  lay  mc  down  and  dee- 


82 


BONNIE  PRINCE  CHARLIE. 


Voice. 


Words  by  James  Hogg. 


Music  by  N.  Gow. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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lant  young      Don 


la  -  beg,    Down     by        the 
aid,     But       if  I  had 


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banks       o'     the  Gar 

fol    -    low  Glen    -    gar 


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lads,     with  their    bon   -  nets       and    white      cock  -   ades, 
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Leav  -  ing    their    moun  -  tains        to 
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81 


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I'll  to  Lochiel  and  Appin,  and  kneel  to  them  ; 

Down  by  Lord  Murray  and  Roy  of  Kildarlie ; 
Brave  Mackintosh,  he  shall  fly  to  the  field  wi'  them  ; 

These  are  the  lads  I  can  trust  wi'  my  Charlie. 

Follow  thee,  follow  thee,  &c 


IV. 

Down  thro'  the  Lowlands,  down  wi'  the  Whigamorcs, 
Loyal  true  Highlanders,  down  wi'  them  rarely ; 

Konald  and  Donald,  drive  on  wi'  the  braid  claymores 
Over  the  necks  o'  the  foes  o'  Prince  Charlie. 

Follow  thee,  follow  thee,  &c 


»4 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


JESSIE,  THE  FLOWER  0'  DUNBLANE. 


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Words  by  Robert  Tannahill. 

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Music  R.  A.  Smith. 
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sun    has  gane  down  o'er   the    lof  -  ty  Ben  -  lomond,    And     left    the  red  clouds  to  pre  -  side  o'er  the  scene  ;    While 
mo  -  dest  as     on   -  y,     and  blythe  as  she's  bon-nie,     For    guile  -  less  sim  -  pli  -  ci  -  ty  marks  her  its  ain  ;       An' 


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lane  -  ly     I    stray    in    the     calm    simmer  gloam-in',       To      muse    on  sweet  Jes-  sie,     the     flow'r    o'  Dunblane, 
far       be  the    vil  -  lain,  di   -  vest  -  ed    o'     feel  -  ing,    Wha'd    blight,  in  its  bloom,  the  sweet   flow'r    o'  Dunblane. 


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How  sweet        is     the   brier     wi'       its        saft      fauld  -  ing  blos-som,     And      sweet        is    the     birk    wi'       its 
Sing    on,       thou  sweet  ma  -  vis,      thy      hymn     to         the  ev'n  -  ing,  Thou'rt     dear         to    the        e  -  choes     o' 


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man-  tie       o'  green ;   Yet  sweet-er    and   fair-er,      an'     dear    to     this    bosom,      Is  love  -  ly  young  Jes-sie,    the 
Cal-der  -  wood  glen  ;    Sae   dear  to    this    bo-som,     sae      art  -  less  and  winning,      Is  charm-ing  young  Jes-sie,    the 


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flow'r       o'     Dun-blane,         Is 
fiow'r       o'     Dun-blane,  Is 


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love    -    ly  young    Jes  -  sie, 
charm  -  ing  young    Jes  -  sie, 


Is        love    -    ly  young   Jes  -  sie,        Is 
Is       charm  -   ing  young  Jes  -  sie,        Is 


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love     -  ly  young    Jes  -  sie, 
charm  -  ing  young  Jes  -  sie, 


the    fiow'r     o'     Dun  -  blane. 
the   fiow'r     o'     Dun-blane. 


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BOTHWELL  CASTLE, 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte, 


Words  by  W.  CAMEkON. 


Music  by  N.  Gow. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  Old       Both  -  well's  Cas 

2.  Old      Both  -   well    Cas 


tie's    ruin  -  ed    tow'rs     Stand         lone 
tie,      ag   -   es      gone      Have  left 


ly  'mang   yon    woo  -  dy 
thee  mould-ring    and     a 


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Clu     -    tha      fond  -  ly         winds       a   -    round,       As 
no     -    ble     Doug  -  las  still        re    -    tains       Thy 


loath      to       leave      the  hal     -    low'd  ground. 

ver  -  dant    groves    and  fair  do  -  mains. 


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But  where       are 
No    Sax    -    on 


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now  the  mar  -  tial   throng  ?  The 

foe         may        storm   thy    walls,      Or 


fes    -   tive    board, 


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thy  re    -  gal    halls,  Long, 


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i         -         vy  binds        the       mould'     -     ring  walls,     And        ru      -      in      reigns  in  Both     -    well    halls, 

long  hath  slept      brave      Wal      -     lace'  shade,    And      bro    -    ken      now  his  bat      -     tie     blade. 


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O  deep  and         long         have  slum     -    ber'd    now        The        cares        that      knit  the 

The  tears  that         fell  from  beau     -     ty's      eye,        The         bro     -    ken    heart,         the 


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sol  -  dier's  brow ;    The     love 
bit  -  ter    sigh,     And    dead 


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88 


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JOCK  0'  HAZELDEAN. 


Words  by  Sir  Walter  Scott 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Glkadhill. 


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1.  'Why 

2.  '  Now 


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weep        ye        by  the  tide, 

let        this       wil      -      fu'  grief 


la     -    dy?     Why       weep       ye         by 
be       done,    And        dry      that     cheek 


the 
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wed       ye         to  my 

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young  -  est       son, 
Er   -   rine    -  ton, 


ye       shall 
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bride, 
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JOCK   O'   HAZELDEAN. 


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seen  ;' 
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she       loot  the  tears    down      fa'  For       Jock       o'         Ha    -     zel  - 

she       loot  the  tears    down      fa'  For       Jock        o'         Ha    -     zel  - 


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'A  chain  of  gold  ye  shall  not  lacK, 

Nor  braid  to  bind  your  hair  ; 
Nor  mettled  hound,  nor  managed  hawk, 

Nor  palfrey  fresh  and  fair. 
And  you  the  foremost  of  them  a1 

Shall  ride,  our  forest  queen — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  o'  Hazeldean. 


IV. 

The  kirk  was  decked  at  morning  tide, 

The  tapers  glimmered  fair, 
The  priest  and  bridegroom  wait  the  bride, 

And  dame  and  knight  are  there. 
They  sought  her  baith  by  bower  and  ha', 

The  lady  was  not  seen  ; 
She's  ower  the  border  and  awa' 

Wi'  Jock  o'  Hazeldean 


90 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


THOU  ART  GANE  AWA'  FRAE  ME,  MARY. 

Author  unknown.  Arranged  by  T.  S    GLEADHILL. 


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1.  Thou   art 

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gane  a     -    wa',    Thou     art     gane 

might       pre   -  tend,        That         stole 


a   -     wa'  frae 

that    heart         of 


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me,  Ma    -    ry,  Nor 

t^ine,  Ma    -    ry,  True 


friends      nor        I  could 

love,        I'm     sure,  was 


make      thee      stay ;      Thou  hast 
ne'er       his       end,  Or 


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cheat    -    ed        them         and 
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THOU  ART  GANE  AWA'  FRAE  ME,  MARY. 


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ne      -     ver     thought  That  ought    could      al         -         ter  thee,  Ma   -   ry; 

flat    -     tcr'd      much,  Nae  sel    -    fish  thoughts  in  me,  Ma    -   ry: 


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still        the        mis 
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o'  my        heart,         Think 

nae    -    thing       such,       No !    I 


what        you 
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Though  you've  been  false,  yet,  while  I  live, 
I'll  loe  nae  maid  but  thee,  Mary ; 

Let  friends  forget,  as  I  forgivs 
Thy  wrongs  to  them  and  me,  Mary. 

So  then,  farewell  !  o'  this  be  sure, 
Since  you've  been  false  to  me,  wiary, 

For  a'  the  world  I'd  not  endure 

Half,  what  I've  clone  for  thee,  Mary. 


9* 


Voice 


THE  BLUE  BELLS  OF  SCOTLAND, 


Words  by  Mrs.  Grant. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHIIA. 


Piano- 
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He's   gone  with  streaming  ban 
He    dwelt  be-neath  the  holly 


ners,  where    no  -  ble  deeds  are  done,      And  my   sad        heart  will  trem    -     ble       till 
trees,     be  -  side  the    ra  -  pid  Spey,      And      manya      bless-ing  follow'd    him     the 


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he   come  safe  -  ly  home, 

day     he  went    a      -      way. 


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O  what,  tell  me  what,  does  your  Highland  laddie  wear  ? 

O  what,  tell  me  what,  does  your  Highland  laddie  wear  ? 

A  bonnet  with  a  lofty  plume,  the  gallant  badge  of  war, 

And  a  plaid  across  the  manly  breast  that  yet  shall  wear  a  star. 


IV. 


Suppose,  ah  suppose,  that  some  cruel,  cruel  wound 
Should  pierce  your  Highland  laddie  and  all  your  hopes  confound , 
The  pipe  would  play  a  cheering  march,  the  banners  round  him  fly, 
And  for  his  king  and  country  dear  with  pleasure  would  he  die. 


V.  But  I  will  hope  to  see  him  yet  in  Scotland's  bonnie  bounds, 
But  I  will  hope  to  see  him  yet  in  Scotland's  bonnie  bounds  ; 
His  native  land  of  liberty  shall  nurse  his  glorious  wounds, 
While  wide  through  all  our  Highland  hills  his  warlike  name  resounds 


MY    NANNIE'S   AWA\ 


93 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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in       her  green  man- tie  blythe  Na-ture   ar  -  rays,    And    lis  -   tens  the  lambkins  that  bleat  o'er     the  braes,  While 
snaw  -  drap  and  prim-rose  our    wood-lands  a  -  dorn,    And    vi  _-    o  -  lets  bathe  in     the    weet     o'       the  morn  ;  They 


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birds   war  -  ble      wel-come    in         il     -     ka  green  shaw  ;       But  to    me    it's  delightless,   my  Nannie's  a  -  wa,' But  to 
pain    my    sad      bo  -  som,  sae    sweet    -    ly  they  blaw,  They  mind  me    o'  Nannie    and  Nannie's  a  -  wa,'  They 


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me      it's  delightless,      my  Nan  -  nie's 
mind    me    o'  Nan-nie    and  Nan  -  nie's 


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Thou  lav'rock  that  springs  frae  the  dew  o'  the  lawn, 
The  shepherd  to  warn  of  the  grey  breakin'  dawn ; 
And  thou  mellow  mavis,  that  hails  the  nicht-fa', 
Give  over  for  pity,  my  Nannie's  awa'. 


Come  autumn,  sae  pensive,  in  yellow  and  grey, 
And  soothe  me  wi'  tidings  o'  nature's  decay; 
The  dark  dreary  winter,  and  wild  driving  snaw, 
Alane  can  delight  me,  my  Nannie's  awa'. 


94 


Voice. 


CALLER  HERRIN'. 


Words  by  Baroness  Nairne. 


Music  by  N.  GOVT. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Wha'll    buy        my    cal  -  ler         her   -    rin'  ?  They're 


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bon  -  nie     fish      and  hale-some     fa  -  rin';    Buy      my  cal -ler       her    -    rin',  New       drawn    frae      the    Forth. 


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1.  When    ye    are  sleep-ing    on   your  pil-lows, Dreamt  ye  ought   o'      our  puir    fel -lows, Dark-ling  as   they  face    the  bil-lows, 

2.  Noo      a'     ye   lads    at     her  -  rin'  fish  -ing,  Cost  -  ly   vamp-ing,  din  -  ner   dressing,    Sole  or    tur  -bot,  how   dis-tres-sing, 


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A'       to     fill    our    wo  -  ven    wil  -lows. 

Fine   folks  scorn      shoals  o'    bles  -sing. 


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Buy      my   cal-ler      her    -    rin'    New      drawn    frae      the  Forth.      Wha'll  buy       mycal-ler       her    -  rin',  They're 


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no  brought  here  without  brave  darin',  Buy  my  cal-ler  her  -rin',  Ye    lit  -  tie  ken  their  worth,  Wha'llbuy  my  cal-ler  her  -rin';  O 


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ye  may  ca'  them  vulgar  fa-rin',Wives and mithers  maist  despairin'   Ca'themliveso'men. 

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And  when  the  creel  o'  herrin'  passes, 
Ladies,  clad  in  silk  and  laces, 
Gather  in  their  braw  pelisses, 
Cast  their  heads  an'  screw  their  faces. 

Buy  my  caller  herrin',  &c. 


IV. 

Noo  neebour's  wives,  come  tent  my  teliin', 

When  the  bonnie  fish  ye're  sellin', 

At  a  word  aye  be  your  dealin', 

Truth  will  stand  when  a'  thing's  failin'. 

Buy  my  caller  herrin',  &c 


96 


Voice. 


HIGHLAND  MARY. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.      Ye    banks        and  braes    and  streams      a -round     The        cas    -    tie      of        Mont   -  go  -  me-ry, 
2.       How  sweet    -    ly  bloom'd  the     gay      green  birk,       How      rich      the    haw  -  thorn's    bios     -    som, 


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be  your  woods      and  fair         your  flow'rs,      Your       wa     -     ters         ne 

un      -      der  neath       their  fra    -    grant  shades        I        clasp'd        her  to 


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There        sim     -     mer       first  un  -  faulds        her      robes,  And       there        they 

The         gol     -     den      hours  on         an     -     gels'    wings  Flew      o'er  me 


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tar       -      ry,  For      there  I      took      the        last  fare  -  weel         Of  my        sweet      High  -  land 

dea      -      rie ;         For      dear  to    me        as        light  and      life       Was  my        sweet      High  -  land 

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Wi'  mony  a  vow  and  lock'd  embrace 

Our  parting  was  fu'  tender ; 
And  pledging  aft  to  meet  again 

We  tore  oursels  asunder. 
But,  oh  !  fell  death's  untimely  frost 

That  nipt  my  flow'r  sae  early ! 
Now  green's  the  sod,  and  cauld's  the  clay, 

That  wraps  my  Highland  Mary. 


IV. 

Oh  !  pale,  pale  now  those  rosy  lips 

I  aft  hae  kiss'd  sae  fondly  ! 
And  clos'd  for  aye  the  sparklin'  glance 

That  dwelt  on  me  sae  kindly  ! 
And  mould'ring  now  in  silent  dust 

The  heart  that  lo'ed  me  dearly ! 
But  still  within  my  bosom's  core 

Shall  live  my  Highland  Mary 


Q8 


CORN    RIGS. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 

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was  blue,       the 


Lam  -  mas  night,  When  corn 

wind      was   still,     The  moon 


rigs        are      bon  -  nie,      O,    Be 
was  shin  -  ing      clear  -  ly,       O,      I 


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neath  the  moon's      un 

set  her  down        wi' 


clou  -  ded  light, 
right      gude-will, 


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held       a    -    wa'        to  An    -    nie,     0. 

mang    the        rigs  o'  bar    -    ley,     O. 


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The   time      flew  by       wi'  tent  -  less   heed,    Till      'tween        the       late      and        ear   -   ly,     O ;      Wi' 

I     kent       her        heart    was  a'       my     ain  ;        I  loVd  her      most      sin    -    cere   -   ly,     O  ;       I 


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sma'   per  -    sua    -    sion  she  a 

kiss'd  her     ower       and  ower         a 


greed        To  see       me      thro'      the         bar    -    ley,     O. 

gain,         A    -    mang     the       rigs         o  bar     -     ley,      O. 


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Corn 


rigs     and  bar  -  ley   rigs, 


Corn  rigs     are     bon  -  nie,     O,    I'll  ne'er  for  -  get    that 


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III. 

I  lock'd  her  in  my  warm  embrace, 

Her  heart  was  beating  rarely,  O  ; 
My  blessings  on  that  happy  place 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley,  O. 
But  by  the  moon  and  stars  sae  bricht 

That  shone  that  hour  sae  clearly,  O, 
She  aye  shall  bless  that  happy  nicht 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley,  O. 
Corn  rigs,  &c. 


IV. 

I  hae  been  blythe  wi'  comrades  dear, 

I  hae  been  merry  drinkin',  O, 
I  hae  been  joyfu'  gath'rin'  gear, 

I  hae  been  happy  thinkin,'0  : 
But  a'  the  pleasures  e'er  I  saw, 

Though  three  times  doubl'd  fairly,  O, 
That  happy  nicht  was  worth  them  a', 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley,  O. 
Corn  rigs,  &c. 


too 


Voice. 


GAE  BRING  TO  ME  A  PINT  0'  WINE. 

Words  by  Robert  Burns.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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me  a    pint        o      wine, 

sounds,  the    ban  -  ners      fly, 


And    fill       it        in     . 
The  glitt  -  'ring  spears 


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are  rank-ed     rea  -  dy  ;    The  shouts  o' 


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The     boat      rocks      at     . 
It's       not         the        roar 


the       pier       o'      Leith,  For      loud        the      wind      blaws      frae       the 

o'        sea      or       shore         Wad    mak       me        Ian     -     ger     wish        to 


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GAE   BRING  TO   ME  A   PINT   O*   WINE. 


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0  WHISTLE  AND  I'LL  COME  TO  YOU,  MY  LAD. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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whistle    and         I'll    come     to  you,   my    lad,  O  whistle    and      I'll       come    to  you    my    lad;         Tho' 

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fa  -  ther    and     mither       and        a'     should  gae  mad,         O  whistle      and         I'll      come     to  you,      my      lad. 


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But  war   -   i 

At  Kirk     or 


ly      tent    when    ye    come      to    meet    me, 
at     mar  -  ket,     when  -  e'er    ye     meet     me, 


And     come    na       un  -  less      the    back 
Gang         by     me      as    though  that    ye 


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O    WHISTLE    AND    I'LL   COME   TO   YOU,   MY   LAD. 

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yett       be         a    -   jee,  Syne         up        the    back    style,    and      let         nae  -    bo    -    dy        see,  And 

cared    nae        a        flee ;  But      steal      me        a        blink     o'      your      bon  -  nie      black    e'e,  Yet 


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III. 

O  whistle  an'  I'll  come  to  ye,  my  lad, 

O  whistle  an'  I'll  come  to  ye,  my  lad  ; 

Tho'  faither,  an'  mither,  an'  a'  should  gae  mad, 

O  whistle  an'  I'll  come  to  ye,  my  lad. 

Aye  vow  an'  protest  that  ye  care  na  for  me, 

An'  whiles  ye  may  lightlie  my  beauty  a  wee  ; 

But  court  nae  anither,  tho'  jokin'  ye  be, 

For  fear  that  she  wyle  your  fancy  frae  me, 

For  fear  that  she  wyle  your  fancy  frae  me, 


104 


GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR. 


Author  of  words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHiLt. 


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2.    The     wind 


a    -    bout 
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the       Mart' 
frae       north 


mas       time, 
to        south, 


And 


And 


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then,        O !  When    our       gude  -  wife        had     puddin's  to      male,'     And    she 

floor,         O I  Quoth    our        gude  -man  to  our     gude  -  wife,  '  Get 


boil'd  them       in 
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GET  UP  AND   BAR  THE  DOOR. 


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hun  -  dred   year,       It's  no 

fore  -  most  word    Should        rise 


be   barr'd      for       me,        O ! 
and    bar        the      door,       O  ! 


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V. 

Then  by  there  cam'  twa  gentlemen, 

At  twelve  o'clock  at  nicht,  O ! 
An'  they  could  neither  see  house  nor  ha', 

Nor  coal  nor  candle  licht,  O ! 

VI. 
Now,  whether  is  this  a  rich  man's  house, 

Or  whether  is  it  a  poor,  O! 
But  ne'er  a  word  wad  ane  0'  them  speak, 

For  barrin'  o'  the  door,  O ! 

VII. 

And  first  they  ate  the  white  puddin's, 
And  then  they  ate  the  black,  O ! 

Tho'  muckle  thocht  the  gudewife  to  hersel', 
Yet  ne'er  a  word  she  spak',  O ! 


VIII 
Then  said  the  ane  unto  the  ither — 

'  Here,  man,  tak'  yc  my  knife,  01 
Do  ye  tak'  aff  the  auld  man's  beard, 

An'  I'll  kiss  the  gudewife,  01' 

IX. 

'  But  there's  nae  water  in  the  housej 
And  what  shall  we  do  then,  O? 

'  What  ails  ye  at  the  puddin'  bree 
That  boils  intil  the  pan,  O  ?' 

X. 

O  up  then  started  our  gudeman, 
And  an  angry  man  was  he,  O  ! 

'  Will  ye  kiss  my  wife  before  my  een, 
And  scaud  me  with  puddin'  bree,  O  ? 


XI. 

Then  up  and  started  our  gudewife, 
Gied  three  skips  on  the  floor,  O ! 

'  Gudeman,  you've  spoken  the  foremost  word, 
Get  up  an'  bar  the  door,  O  !' 


Lo6 


UP  IN  THE  MORNING  EARLY. 


Words  by  John  Hamilton. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


Voice. 


Allegretto. 


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1.  Cauld    blaws      the  wind        frae       north       to    south,  And  drift         is         dri    -    vin'       sair       -       ly ;         The 

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The  sun  peeps  ovvre  yon  southland  hills 

Like  ony  timorous  carlie, 
Just  blinks  a  wee,  then  sinks  again, 

And  that  we  find  severely. 
Now  up  in  the  morning's  no  for  me, 

Up  in  the  morning  early  ; 
When  snaw  blaws  in  at  the  chimley  cheek, 

Wha'd  rise  in  the  morning  early? 

IV. 

Nae  linties  lilt  on  hedge  or  bush, 

Poor  things  they  suffer  sairly  ; 
In  cauldrife  quarters  a'  the  nicht, 

A'  day  they  feed  but  sparely. 
Now  up  in  the  morning's  no  for  me, 

Up  in  the  morning  early, 
A  pennyless  purse  I  wad  rather  dree 

Than  rise  in  the  morning  early. 

v. 

A  cosie  house  and  cantie  wife 

Aye  keeps  a  body  cheerly  ; 
And  pantries  stow'd  wi'  meet  an'  drink, 

They  answer  unco'  rarely. 
But  up  in  the  morning — na,  na,  na! 

Up  in  the  morning  early  ; 
The  gowans  maun  glint  on  bank  and  brae, 

When  I  rise  in  the  morning  early. 


II 


/ 


108 


Voice. 


AULD  JOE  NICHOLSON'S  BONNIE  NANNIE. 


Words  by  JAMES  HOGG. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Moderate. 


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sweet        as      it's     bon  -  nie ;     But  there   ne'er    was  a        flow'r 

cou    -    thy     an'     can  -  ny ;  I  cow  -  er'd        me      down 


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in       gar   -   den         or        bow'r,        Like 
at  the  back        o'         the        bush,  To 


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nie    Nan  -nie- 


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AULD   JOE   NICHOLSON'S   BONNIE  NANNIE. 


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dear  lit  -tie        Nannie, 


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III. 

My  heart  lay  beatin'  the  flow'ry  green, 
In  quakin',  quiverin'  agitation  ; 

An'  the  tears  cam  tricklin'  doun  frae  my  een 
Wi'  perfect  love  and  admiration. 
O  my  Nannie,  &c. 


IV. 

There's  mony  a  joy  in  this  world  below, 
An'  sweet  the  hopes  that  to  sing  were  uncanny; 

But  o'  a'  the  pleasures  I  ever  can  know, 
There's  nane  like  the  love  o'  my  bonnie  Nannie. 
O  my  Nannie,  &c. 


110 


JOHN    GRUMLIE. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Voice. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


5 


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Grum    -    lie    swore       by    the    light      o'       the     moon,     And  the  green    leaves    on        the 
ye        maun  dress        your  chil     -     dren     fair,  And        put      them  a'  in        their 


tree, 
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more    work    in 
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day,  Than  his    wife      could       do  in 

John,         Or        else     ye'll       spoil  the 


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His      wife  rose    up 

And      ye        maun  reel 

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in  the  morn 
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ing,        Wi'       cares     and    troubles     e 
John,     That         I         span  yes       -       ter 


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Grum    -    lie  bide  at    hame, 

ye        maun  ca'  in       the    hens, 


John,  And  I'll       go  haud     the  plow. 
John,  Else  they'll  a'     lay        a  -  way. 

^  I V  _!_  w        i 


Sing-ing     fal      de  lal    lal        de 
Sing  -  ing      fal      de  lal    lal        de 


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fa       lal   j    la     lal        la  la,  John  Grum    -    lie  bide  at   hame, 

fa      lal        la     lal        la  la,  And    ye        maun  ca' in         the  hens, 


John,    And 
John,     Else 


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I'll    go  haud    the        plow, 
they'll  a'    lay        a      -      way. 

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O  he  did  dress  his  children  fair, 

And  he  put  them  a'  in  their  gear; 
But  he  forgot  to  turn  the  maut, 

And  so  he  spoiled  the  beer. 
And  he  sang  loud  as  he  reel'd  the  tweel 

That  his  wife  span  yesterday; 
But  he  forgot  to  put  up  the  hens, 

And  the  hens  a'  layed  away. 

Singing  fal  de  lal  lal,  &c. 

IV. 

The  hawket  crummie  loot  down  nae  milk;   • 

He  kirned,  nor  butter  gat; 
And  a'  gaed  wrang,  and  nought  gaed  richt, 

He  danced  wi'  rage,  and  grat. 
Then  up  he  ran  to  the  head  o'  the  knowe, 

Wi'  mony  a  wave  an'  shout, 
She  heard  him  as  she  heard  him  not, 

And  steered  the  stots  about. 

Singing  fal  de  lal  lal,  &c 


v. 

John  Grumlie's  wife  cam'  hame  at  e'en, 

And  laugh'd  as  she'd  been  mad, 
When  she  saw  the  house  in  siccan  a  plicht, 

And  John  sae  glum  and  sad. 
Quoth  he,  '  I  gie  up  my  housewife's  keep, 

I'll  be  nae  mair  gudewife ;' 
'  Indeed,'  quo  she,  '  I'm  weel  content, 

Ye  may  keep  it  the  rest  o'  your  life.' 
Singing  fal  de  lal  lal,  &c 

VI. 

'  The  deil  be  in  that,'  quo  surly  John, 

'  I'll  do  as  I've  dune  before,' 
Wi'  that  the  gudewife  took  up  a  stout  rung, 

And  John  made  aff  to  the  door. 
'  Stop,  stop,  gudewife,  I'll  haud  my  tongue, 

I  ken  I'm  sair  to  blame ; 
But  henceforth  I  maun  mind  the  plow, 

And  ye  maun  bide  at  hame.' 

Singing  fal  de  lal  lal,  &C 


lit 


I'LL  LOE  THEE,  ANNIE. 


I 


Words  by  R.  Hamilton,  Esq. 


Music  by  A.  HUME. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  I'll        loe  thee,  An    -    nie,     while  the     dew         In  sil-ler  bells  hings  on     the    tree  ;      Or 

2.  I'll        loe  thee  while     the        lin  -  tie     sings       His         sango'  love     on  whin  -  ny    brae;      I'll 


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thee  while        the        crys     -    tal     springs  Glint  in  the 


to        the         row    -    in'        sea. 
gow  -   den      gleams       o'        day. 


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I'll    loe  thee  while  there's    licht   a     -     boon,  And  stars       to      stud      the  breast        o'    sky ;   I'll 


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blooms           the     hea  -   ther       on             the  wild,  O  An  -  nie,       Annie,  I'll    be  true          to    thee. 

loe               thee    till       life's      day             is  done,  And  bless  thee       wi'  my  lat    -     est  sigh. 

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AULD   LANG   SYNE, 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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We  twa  hae  paidl'd  in  the  burn 

Frae  mornin'  sun  till  dine  ; 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd, 

Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c 

IV. 

And  there's  a  hand,  my  trusty  Men', 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine  ; 
And  we  11  tak'  a  richt  guid  willie-waught, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c. 

v. 

And  surely  you'll  be  your  pint  stoup, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine  ; 
And  we'll  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 

For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c 


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WHEN    THE    KYE    COMES    HAME. 

Words  by  James  Hogg.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


— FE 


Voice. 


>   h. 


Piano- 
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Moderato. 


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1.  Come  all  ye       jol     -     ly  shep  -  herds       that      whis  -   tie        through        the     glen,  I'll 

2.  'Tis  not  be  -  neath       the         burgo    -   net,       nor        yet       be    -     neath         the    crown,  "Tis 


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the       kye     comes        hame. 

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WHEN   THE    KYE   COMES   HAME. 


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hame,  when    the     kye       comes      hame,  'Tween  the  gloam-in'  and  the      mirk   when    the 


When  the    kye      comes 


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III. 

Then  the  eye  shines  sae  bright  the  haill  soul  to  beguile, 
There's  love  in  ev'ry  whisper,  and  joy  in  ev'ry  smile  ; 
O,  wha  would  choose  a  crown,  wi1  its  perils  and  its  fame, 
And  miss  a  bonnie  lassie  when  the  kye  comes  hame. 

When  the  kye  comes  hame,  &c 

IV. 

See  yonder  pawky  shepherd  that  lingers  on  the  hill, 
His  yowes  are  in  the  fauld  and  his  lambs  are  lying  still ; 
Yet  he  downa  gang  to  rest,  for  his  heart  is  in  a  flame 
To  meet  his  bonnie  lassie  when  the  kye  comes  hame. 

When  the  kye  comes  hame,  &c. 


V. 

Awa'  wi'  fame  and  fortune— what  comfort  can  they  gie  ? 
And  a'  the  arts  that  prey  on  man's  life  and  liberty  ! 
Gie  me  the  highest  joy  that  the  heart  o'  man  can  frame, 
My  bonnie,  bonnie  lassie  when  the  kye  comes  hame. 

When  the  kye  comes  hame,  &c 


n8 


VCICE. 


SAW    YE    JOHNNIE    COMIN'  ? 


Words  by  LADY  NAIRNE. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


53S 


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1.  Saw     ye  Johnnie     com-in',  quo'  she, 

2.  Fee    him,father,       fee  him,  quo' she, 


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Saw      ye  Johnnie       com-in', 
Fee    him,  fa-ther,      fee  him, 


Saw      ye  Johnnie      com-in',     quo' she,      Saw      ye  Johnnie      com-in'? 
Fee     him,  fa-ther,     fee  him,    quo'  she,      Fee      him,  fa-ther,     fee  him. 


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Wi'    his     blue  bon-net      on      his  head,    An'       his  dog-gie      rin  -  nin',  Wi'    his      blue  bon-net      on      his  head, 

For       he      is     a       gal-  lant  lad,         And      a      weel       '   do-  in';  And       a'      the  wark  a-  bout     the  house 


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An'    his  dog-gie    rin-nin',  quo'  she,  An'    his  dog-gie     rin-nin'. 
Gaes  wi' me  when  I     see  him,  quo  she,    Wi'    me  when  I     see  him. 


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What  will  I  do  wi'  him,  Lizzie  ? 

What  will  I  do  wi'  him  ? 
He's  ne'er  a  sark  upon  his  back, 

And  I  hae  nane  to  gie  him. 
I  hae  twa  sarks  into  my  kist, 

And  ane  o'  them  I'll  gie  him, 
And  for  a  merk  o'  mair  fee, 

Dinna  stand  wi'  him,  quo'  she, 

Dinna  stand  wi'  him. 


For  weel  do  I  lo'e  him,  quo'  she, 

Weel  do  I  lo'e  him ; 
For  weel  do  I  lo'e  him,  quo'  she, 

Weel  do  I  lo'e  him. 
O,  fee  him,  father,  fee  him,  quo'  she, 

Fee  him,  father,  fee  him  ; 
He'll  haud  the  pleugh,  thrash  in  the  barn; 

And  crack  wi'  me  at  e'enin',  quo'  she, 

And  crack  wi'  me  at  e'enin' 


ii9 


MY    HEART    IS   SAIR. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


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Andantino. 


i.  My    heart     is  sair,      \\     daur-natell,      My 
2.    Ye  powers  that  smile  on   vir  -  tuous  love,    O 


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heart    is     sair    for  some  -  bo  -  dy,   1/        I  could  wake    a     win  -  ter    night,       For      the  sake    o'  some   -  bo  -  dy. 
sweetly  smile     on  some  -  bo  -  dy,Frae    il   -    ka  dan  -  ger  keep     him  free,  And    send  me  safe   my  some   -  bo  -  dy. 


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hon,      for  some     -    bo-dy  ! 


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body! 
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I  could  range  the  world  a-round, 
I     wad  do — what  wad   I    not? 


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Voice. 


MY  BOY   TAMMY. 


Words'by  HECTOR  MACNEIL. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  K    Whaur  hae  ye   been      a'        day, 

2.  An'  whaur  gat  ye    that    young  thing, 


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My  boy    Tam-mie  ?        An'      whaur    hae    ye    been       a'        day,  My  boy        Tam-mie  ? 

My  boy    Tam-mie?        An'      whaur    gat    ye    that    young   thing,  My  boy        Tam-mie? 


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I've      been      by  burn  and  flow' -  ry  brae,  Mea-dow  green     an' moun-tain  grey,  Cour  -  tin'   o'      this    young  thing, 

I         o-at     her  down  in    yon-derhowe,  Smil-ing    on        a    bon  -  ny  knowe,  Herd-ing  ae      wee  lamb  an' ewe, 


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Just  come  frae    her  mam  -  mie. 
For    her      puir        mam -mie. 


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MY  BOY  TAMM*.  m 

in. 

What  said  ye  to  the  bonnie  bairn; 

My  boy  Tammy  ? 
I  praised  her  een,  sae  bonnie  blue, 
Her  dimpled  cheek  and  cherry  mou\ 
An'  preed  it  aft,  as  ye  may  trow ! 

She  said  she'd  tell  her  mammie. 


IV. 

I  held  her  to  my  beating  heart, 

My  young,  my  smiling  lammie ! 

I  hae  a  house,  it  cost  me  dear, 

I've  walth  o'  plenishin'  an'  gear ; 

Ye'se  get  it  a'  wer't  ten  times  mair, 
Gin  ye  will  leave  your  mammie. 

V. 

The  smile  gaed  aff  her  bonny  face — 
I  maunna  leave  my  mammie  I 

She's  gien  me  meat,  she's  gien  me  claes. 

She's  been  my  comfort  a'  my  days; 

My  father's  death  brought  mony  waes— 
I  canna  leave  my  mammie. 

VI. 

We'll  tak'  her  hame  an'  mak'  her  fain, 

My  ain  kind  hearted  lammie  ; 
We'll  gie  her  meat,  we'll  gie  her  claes, 
We'll  be  her  comfort  a'  her  days — 
The  wee  thing  gie's  her  hand  and  says 
There !  gang  and  ask  my  mammie. 

VII. 

Has  she  been  to  the  kirk  wi'  thee, 

My  boy  Tammy? 
She  has  been  to  the  kirk  wi'  me, 
An'  the  tear  was  in  her  ee ; 
For  O  !  she's  but  a  young  thing, 

Just  come  frae  her  mammie. 


122 


COME  SIT  THEE  DOWN.* 


Music  by  J.  Sinclair. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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i.  Come         sit    thee  down,  my        bon-nie,   bon-  riie    love, 

2.  The  skies    are  flam      -      -    ing  red,  my         love, 


Come         sit      thee  down         by 
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me,     .      •      •     love, 
red,     .      .      •     love, 


And        I  will      tell  thee  ma  -  ny       a  tale  Of        the 

And     arch      -      -      ly      rolls  the  moun   -    tain  wave,       And 


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*  Inserted  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Copyright,  Messrs.  Duff  S:  Stewart,  London. 


COME    SIT   THEE   DOWN. 


121 


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Voice. 


AND   YE    SHALL  WALK   IN    SILK   ATTIRE. 


Words  by  Miss  Blamire. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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AND   YE   SHALL   WALK   IN   SILK  ATTIRE. 


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I  hae     pledg'd    my 

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what's  to  me         a  sil    -    ler     crown,    Gin    frae  my  love 

he  has       gien       to        me        his    heart,     Wi'      a'  its  vir 


I  part     .     , 

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His  gentle  manners  wan  my  heart, 

He  gratefu'  took  the  gift ; 
Could  I  but  think  to  see  it  back, 

It  wad  be  waur  than  theft. 
For  langest  life  can  ne'er  repay 

The  love  he  bears  to  me ; 
And  e'er  I'm  forced  to  break  my  troth 

I'll  lay  me  down  and  dee. 


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Voice. 


Pian 
Forte. 


OF  A'  THE  AIRTS  THE  WIND  CAN  BLAVY. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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a'  the    airts         the    wind     can      blaw,      I       dear 

blaw,         ye     west    -    lin    winds,  blaw     saft        A  -  mang 


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ly      loe       the     west ; 
the     leaf    -    y      trees  ; 


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sie  lives,   The      lass  that 

and  dale,  Bring  hame  the 


I       loe      best  ; 
la   -  den     bees  ; 


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wild    -     woods  grow  and      ri        -       vers  row, 
bring  the    las  -  sie    back  to     me, 


Wi'     mo  -  ny 

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OF   A'   THE   AIRTS    THE   WIND   CAN   BLAW. 


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day        and  night        my    fan 
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love  -  ly 


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my      Jean, 
my      Jean. 


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see     her    in       the  dew    -  y  flow'r.  Sae       love -ly    sweet   and     fair;  I       hear     her  voice       in     il   -  kabird,  Wi' 

sighs   and  vows      a-mang  theknowes  Hae    past    a  -  tween   us       twa  ;       How    fain       to  meet,    how  wae     to  part,  That 


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mu  -  sic  charm  the    air  ; 
day     she  gaed     a   -  wa' ; 


There's     not      a  bon-nie  flow'r  that  springs  By  foun  -  tain  shaw    or      green, 
The     powr's   a-boon  can  on   -  ly    ken,    To  whom    this  heart     is       seen, 


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yet       a  bon -nie  bird  that  sings,  But  minds  me   0'      my  Jean. 
nr.nc  can  be   sae  dear     to  me    As       my  swectlove  ly  Jean. 


128 


Voice. 


THE  LASS  0'    PATIE'S  MILL. 


Written  by  Allan  Ramsay. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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1.  The  lass         o'  Pa  -  tie's     mill, 

2.  With      -       out        the        help      of        art, 


Sae         bon      -      nie, 
Like     flow's        that 


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she  spak'  or  smil'd.  Her        looks  they 


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THE   LASS   O'     PATIE'S   MILL 


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III 

Oh !  had  I  a'  the  wealth 

Hopetoun's  high  mountains  fill, 
Insur'd  long  life  and  health, 

And  pleasures  at  my  will ; 
I'd  promise  and  fulfil 

That  none  but  bonnie  she, 
The  lass  o'  Patie's  mill, 

Should  share  the  same  wi'  me^ 


13° 


WILL  YE   GANG   TO   THE   BAUGY-BURN? 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  W.  Cameron. 


Music  by  T.  MACFARLANE. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Will     ye  gang       to       the  Baugy  -  burn,        Ma  -  ry,  Ma  -  ry?       O         gang      wi'   me      to     Baugy-burn,  My 


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ain  dear  daw-tie       Ma  -  ry,  Will  ye  gang  to  the  Baugy-burn,    Ma-ry,       Ma-ry?     O     gang  wi' me    to  Baugy-burn,  My 


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WILL  YE  GANG  TO  THE  BAUGY-BURN. 


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1.  The       bur    -     nie    aye       still    jumps       and  jouks,  Whaur  mang       its       flow'  -  ry  sha     -     dy        nooks,      O 

2.  The       wood  -  land  warb  -  ler        still  is  there,     Health  float    -    ing      in        the        balm   -  y  air,        And 


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mony  a    fair        wee      flow'     -     ry  dooks  Its         sweet       face        in  the         stream 

a'  as  fresh      and        a'  as    fair     As        there      when    first  I  woo'd 


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It's  no  for  a'  its  beauties  rare, 
But  just  because  we  courted  there  ; 
And  noo  for  twenty  years  and  mair 
You've  been  my  ain  dear  dawtie. 

Then  gang  to  the  Baugy-Bura,  &c. 


IV. 

We'll  twine  a  wreath  o'  bonnie  flowVs, 
We'll  talk  o'  auld  langsyne  for  hours  ; 
While  high  aboon  the  lav'rock  pours 
Its  sang  0'  love  an'  Mary. 

Then  gang  to  the  Baugy-Bur^  &£ 


13* 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


DOUN  THE  BURN,  DAVIE  LAD. 


Words  by  W.  Crawford.  Composer  unknown. 

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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Dav    -    ie         was        the        braw  -    est    lad     That     dwelt      on        this      burn 


see  ; 
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Blythe      Da  -   vie's  smile       her      heart      did   move 
Blythe      Da  -    vie's  smile        her      heart      did    move 


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To      speak    her      mind       quite       free    -    ly, 
To      speak    her       mind       thus        free    -    ly, 

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DOUN  THE  BURN,  DAVIE   LAD. 


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doun      the    burn,       Da    -  vie  love,    doun     the    burn,       Da  -   vie  love,  Doun      the   burn,        Da  -vie  love,     And 
doun      the    burn,        Da   -  vie  love,  doun     the    burn,       Da  -   vie  love,  Doun      the    burn,        Da  -vie  love,     And 


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«  •    ^  .J. ^ "= — 

I  will  follow    thee.          Doun  the  burn,  Da-  vie  love,  doun  the  burn,  Da- vie  love,  doun  the  burn,  Da  -  vie  love,  Gang 
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doun  the  burn,     Da  -  vie  love,  And    I     will  follow    thee. 


III. 

As  fate  had  dealt  to  him  a  rooth, 
Straight  to  the  kirk  he  led  her ; 
There  plighted  he  his  faith  and  truth, 

And  a  bonnie  bride  he  made  her. 
No  more  ashamed  to  own  her  love, 
Or  speak  her  mind  more  freely, 
Said,  doun  the  burn,  Davie  lad, 
And  I  will  follow  thee. 
Doun  the  burn,  &c. 


«3' 


A  GUID  NEW  YEAR  TO  ANE  AN'  A'. 


Words  by  P.  Livingstone. 
Allegretto. 


Music  by  A.  HUME. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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an'        a',         An'      mo  -  ny      may 
na       wait,      My    friend,  for      you 

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A       guid    new  year         to        ane  an'        a',  An'    mo  -  ny      may        ye        see ; 


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JOHNNIE  COPE. 


Words  by  Ad  AM  Skirving. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


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1.  Cope  sent        a  let      -      ter  frae       Dun  -  bar, —  Say  -  ing         Char  -  lie  meet  me 

2.  When         Char    -  lie      look'd  the  letter       up    -    on,  He  drew      his  sword  the 


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ye  daur,  And  I'll        learn        you  the         .art  o'  war,  If        you'll 

bard  from,  Come  fol    -    low         me,  my        merry,   merry      men,      And       we'll 


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meet    me        in         the        morn       -       ing 
meet  johnnie  Cope      in  the    morn      -      ing, 


>  Then    hey,       Johnnie  Cope,     are    ye      wau  -  kin'     yet,        Or 


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JOHNNIE  COPE. 


137 


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are         ye    sleep  -  in' 


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in. 

Now,  Johnnie,  be  as  good  as  your  word, 
Come  let  us  try  baith  fire  and  sword  ; 
And  dinna  flee  awa'  like  a  frichted  bird 
That's  chased  frae  its  nest  in  the  morning. 

Then  hey,  Johnnie  Cope,  &c. 

IV. 

When  Johnnie  Cope  he  heard  o'  this, 
He  thought  it  wadna  be  amiss 
To  hae  a  horse  in  readiness 
To  flee  awa'  in  the  morning. 

Then  hey,  Johnnie  Cope,  &C. 

V. 

Fly  now,  Johnnie,  get  up  and  rin, 
The  Highland  bagpipes  mak'  a  din; 
It's  best  to  sleep  in  a  hale  skin, 
For  'twill  be  a  bluidy  morning. 

Then  hey,  Johnnie  Cope,  &c. 

VI. 

When  Johnnie  Cope  to  Dunbar  came, 
They  speefd  at  him,  "  Where's  a'  your  men?" 
The  deil  confound  me  gin  I  ken, 
For  I  left  them  a'  i'  the  morning. 

Then  hey,  Johnnie  Cope,  &c. 

VII. 

Now,  Johnnie,  troth  ye  are  na  blate 
To  come  wi'  the  news  o'  your  ain  defeat, 
And  leave  your  men  in  sic  a  strait, 
Sae  early  in  the  morning. 

Then  hey,  Johnnie  Cope,  &c. 


VIII. 


O !  faith,  quo'  Johnnie,  I  got  sic  flegs 
Wi'  their  claymores  and  philabegs ; 
If  I  face  them  again,  deil  break  my  legs — 
So  I  wish  you  a'  a  gude  morning. 

Then,  hey  Johnnie  Cope,  &c. 


138 


Voice. 


JEANIE'S  BLACK  E'E. 


Words  by  HECTOR  MACNEIL. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Moderate. 


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1.  The     sun  rose    sae      ro    -     sy,  the      gray 

2.  Saft  thro'   the    green  birks    I        stole 


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hills       a   -  dorn 
to       my     jew 


ing,       Light  sprang  the     lav'  -  rock    and 
el        Streek'd  on  spring's  car  -  pet        a  - 


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neath    the    saugh  tree, 


When,  true 

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las     -     sie,    that      Wil 


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lie's     been    cru    -     el," 


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Jean  -  ie      cam'      link  -    in'   out     owre  the  green         lea.  To      mark  her     im  -pa 

l'I       am        a    -    sleep,      do    not      wa    -      -      -     ken  me."        "  Wi'     love's        warm    sen-sa 


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JEANIE'S    BLACK    E'E. 


139 


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crap       amang      the     breck  -  ans,  Aft,      aft 
mark  -  ed  your      im     -   pa  -  tience,  Lang  hid 


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gate   she    turn'd    her    black  e'e ;  Then, 

ans      I     watch'd  your    black  e'e ;         You're 


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III. 

Bright  is  the  whin's  bloom,  ilk  green  knowe  adorning, 

Sweet  is  the  primrose,  bespangled  vvi'  dew; 
Yonder  comes  Peggy  to  welcome  May  morning, 

Dark  wave  her  haffet  locks  o'er  her  white  brow. 
O  light,  light  she's  dancin',  keen  on  the  gowany  green, 

Barefoot  and  kilted  half  up  to  the  knee; 
While  Jeanie  is  sleeping  still,  I'll  rin  and  sport  my  filij 

"  I  was  asleep  and  ye've  waken'd  me." 

IV. 

"  I'll  rin  and  whirl  her  round,  Jeanie  is  sleeping  sound, 

Kiss  her  frae  lug  to  lug,  no  ane  can  see; 
Sweet,  sweet's  her  hinny  mou' — "  we'll  I'm  no  sleeping  noo; 

I  was  asleep,  but  ye've  waken'd  me." 
Laughing  till  like  to  drap,  swith  to  my  Jean  I  lap, 

Kiss'd  her  ripe  roses,  and  blest  her  black  e'e; 
And  aye  since  whene'er  we  meet,  sing,  for  the  sound  is  sweet, 

"  I  was  asleep,  and  ye've  waken'd  mc." 


K 


14© 


Piano- 
Forte. 


THE   MACGREGOR'S  GATHERING. 


Words  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
Animato. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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The  moon's       on     the      lake     and    the    mist's         on    the    brae,  And    the      clan        has      a      name  that       is 
depths       of  Loch     Ka  -  trine    the    steed        shall  ca  -  reer,    O'er    the      peak  of    Ben  -  lo  -  mond    the 


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name  -  less      by       day;  Our 

gal    -    ley      shall    steer,      And  the 


sig   -    nal    for    fight,     which  from      monarch  s      we      drew,  Must      be 
rocks     of    Craig  Roys  -  ton      like  i    -    ci     -     cles    melt,     Ere      our 


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heard    but  by    night    in      our    venge  -  ful    ha  -  loo  i ") -j,.    „     .         ,nn  •      ,         ,     .      ,         ,  „  ,       ,,  .     ,  , 

•ongs     be    for  -  got      or     our      ven-geance  un  -  felt.'  }  Then    ha  "  lo°  !      ha  "  lo° !      ha  "  lo°  !      Gre  '  Sa  " lach ! 


wrongs 

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If  they    rob   us  of  name  and  pur-sue  us  with  beagles,  Give  theirroof  to  the  flame  and  their 


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THE    MACGREGOR'S   GATHERING. 


1 41 


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ga -ther,  While  there's  leaves  in    the     fo  -  rest,  and  foam      on  the     ri  -  ver,  Mac  -  gre -gar,  despite  them,  shall 


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14* 


LOUDON'S  BONNIE  WOODS  AND  BRAES. 


Words  by  Robert  Tannahill. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


i.  Lou-don's  bon  -  nie  woods  and  braes, 
2.  Hark  the  swell-ing      bu  -  gle  rings, 


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I     maun  leave  them     a,'  las-sie,       Wha    can  thole  when  Britain's    faes     Would  gie  Britons    law,       las  -  sie. 

Yield  -  ing  joy      to      thee,      lad-die;      But      the  dole  -  fu'    bu  -  gle  brings     Wae-fu'  thoughts  to  me,      lad-die. 


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when    free 
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bids    a  -  venge  her,        Wha  wad    shun         her         ca',  las  -  sie  ? 

mo  -  ments   counting,         Far  frae    love         and        thee,  lad  -  die. 


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LOUDON'S   BONNIE   WOODS   AND   BRAES. 


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Lou-don's  bon-nie  woods  and  braes  Hae  seen  our  hap  -py    bri  -  dal  days,  And  gen  -  tie  hope  shallsoothe  thy  waes,  When 
O'er    the  go  -  ry    fields  o'  war  Where  vengeance  drives  his  crim-son  car,Thou'lt  may  be  fa'    frae  me       a  -  far,     And  ; 


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I     am      far        a  -  wa',        las  -  sie. 
nane  to    close    thy      e'e,        lad  -  die. 


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ni. 

Cfc!  resume  thy  wonted  smile, 

Oh  !  suppress  thy  fears,  lassie ; 
Glorious  honour  crowns  the  toil 

Tnat  the  soldier  shares,  lassie. 
Keav'n  will  shield  thy  faithful  "lover 

Till  the  vvageful  strife  is  over; 
Then  we'll  meet  nae  mair  to  sever 

Till  the  day  we  dee,  lassie. 
'Midst  our  bonnie  woods  and  braes 

We'll  spend  our  peacefu',  happy  days 
As  blythe's  yon  lichtsome  lamb  that  plays 

On  Loudon's  flowery  lea,  lassie. 


144 


Voice. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


THE  LAND  0'  THE  LEAL. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Adagio. 


1.  I'm    wear   -  in'       a    -    wa',  Jean,  Like 

2.  Our  bonnie  bair-nie's    there  Jean,  She 


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snaw -wreaths    in        thaw,     Jean,    I'm      wear    -    in'         a     -    wa' 
wasbaith  gude    and       fair,      Jean,  And      we      grudg'd  her       sair 


To 
To 


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the 


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There's    nae       sor  -  row     there,    Jean,  There's'  nei  -  ther  cauld     nor 
But    sorrow's  sel'    wears    past,     Jean,    And      joy       is      com   -  in' 


care,       Jean,   The       day        is       aye 
fast,      Jean,  The      joy     that's  aye    to 


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land 
land 


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o' 


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the 


leal, 
leal. 


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in. 

Ye've  been  leal  and  true,  Jean, 
Your  task  is  ended  now,  Jean, 
And  I'll  welcome  you 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
Then  dry  that  glistenin'  e'e,  Jean, 
My  soul  langs  to  be  free,  Jean, 
And  angels  wait  on  me 

To  the  land  o'  the  leal. 


IV. 

A'  our  friends  are  gane,  Jean, 
We've  lang  been  left  alane,  Jean, 
We'll  a'  meet  again 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal. 
Now  fare  ye  weel,  my  ain  Jean, 
This  warld's  care  is  vain,  Jean, 
We'll  meet  and  aye  be  fair 

In  the  land  o'  the  leal. 


f 


Voice. 


MY  SPOUSE  NANCY. 


145 


Words  by  ROBERT  BURNS. 


Air  "  My  Jo  Janet/' 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Allegretto 


1.  Husband,  husband,  cease  your  strife,Nor 

2.  If    'tis     still  the     lord  -  ly       word. 


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Ion  -  ger      id    -   ly     raye,      sir  j  Though    I    am    your    wed  -  ded  wife,  Yet     I'm     not    your    slave,       sir. 

Ser-vice     and      o    -   be  -  dience,     I'll       de-sert      my      sov' -  reign  lord,    And     so    good    bye      al    -    leg   -   iance. 


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o  -  bey,    Nan 
be  -  reft,     Nan 


cy, 

cy, 


.  Nan  -   cy ;      Is        it 
.  Nan   -   cy ;     Yet      I'll 


man     or       wo 
try       to     make 


man:  say, 
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My  poor  heart,  then,  break  it  must, 

My  last  hour  I'm  near  it ; 
When  you  lay  me  in  the  dust, 

Think,  think  how  ye  will  bear  it ! 
I  will  hope  and  trust  in  heaven, 

Nancy,  Nancy ! 
Strength  to  bear  it  will  be  giv'n, 
My  spouse  Nancy  ! 


IV. 
Well,  sir,  from  the  silent  dead, ' 

Still  I'll  try  to  daunt  you  ; 
Ever  round  your  midnight  bed 

Horrid  sprites  will  haunt  you. 
I'll  wed  another  like  my  dear, 
Nancy,  Nancy ! 
Then  the  fiends  will  fly  for  fear, 
My  spouse  Nancy » 


1 46 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


BONNIE  JEANIE  GRAY/ 


Music  by  R.  WEBSTER. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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mark'd    that 

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ye       sae 
lone    -    ly 


late 

look 


yes-treen, 
o1   thine, 


My      bon  -  nie 
My     bon  -  nie 


Jean    -       ie      Gray?  Your 

Jean    -       ie      Gray ;  I've 


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late  at        e'en,        And        eke        -  at  break      o'      day. 

bo    -     som       pine,       This        mo     -     ny,  mo    -    ny      day. 


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ther  look'd 
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sae     sour  and  sad,  Your        fa      -      ther    dull       and 

o'      pro      -      miselur'd         Your     guile     -     less  heart        a 


wae ; 

stray  ? 


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Oh 


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The  first  and  last  stanzas  of  this  song  were  written  by  William  Paul,  Glasgow,  and  the  second  by  William  Thorn,  the  Inverury  Poet. 


BONNIE   JEANIE    GRAY. 


«47 


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sae         late        yes  -  treen,        My 
your       grief      frae       me,  My 


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bon  -  nie 
bon  .  nie 


Jean 
Jean 


ie     Gray, 
ie      Gray. 


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in. 

Dear  sister,  sit  ye  down  by  me, 

And  let  naebody  ken, 
For  I  hae  promised,  late  yestreen, 

To  wed  young  Jamie  Glen. 
The  melting  tear  stood  in  his  e'e, 

What  heart  could  say  him  nay? 
As  aft  he  vowed,  through  life  I'm  thine. 

My  boaafe  Jeanie  Gray. 


i48 


LOGAN    WATER 


Words  by  John  Mayne. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


^=W=^ 


Voice. 


m 


Andante. 


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1.  By  Lo     -      gan's     streams      that  rin 

2.  Nae  niair  at  Lo    -    gan  kirk 


deep,         Fu1  aft 

he  A    -   tween 


wi'     glee        I've 
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me  ;        Meet       wi'      me,       or, 


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when  it's      mirk, 


Wi'       my 
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dear       lad         on 
me      hame      frae 


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Lo    -    gan      braes.        But        waes     my    heart !  thae       days         are      gane,      And      fu'        o'      grief        I 
Lo     -     gan      kirk.  I  weel     may   sing,     thae        days  are       gane;     Frae    kirk     and     fair  I 


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While      my 


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dear         lad 


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far         frae         me 
far         frae         me 


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At  e'en,  when  hope  amaist  is  gane, 
I  daunder  dowie  and  forlane, 
Or  sit  beneath  the  trystin'-tree, 
Where  first  he  spak'  o'  love  to  me. 
O  !  could  I  see  thae  days  again, 
My  lover  skaithless  and  my  ain, 
Revered  by  friends,  and  far  frae  fa-Si. 
We'd  live  in  bliss  on  Logan  braes. 


IfO 


THE  LAIRD   0'  COCKPEN. 


Words  by  BARONESS  Nairne. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHIIA. 


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i.  The      Laird       o'    Cock  -  pen 
2.  Doun      by        the    dyke  -  side 


he's      proud    and     he's    great, 
a  la    -    dy       did     dwell, 


His       mind       is     taen      up  with    the 

At         his         ta   -  ble      head  he 


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things       o'      the      state ; 
thought  she'd  look      well ; 


He  want    -   ed  a  wife 

Mac         -  Cleish's      ae      dausrh-ter 


his       braw    house      to       keep,  But 

o'         Cla  -  vers   -  ha'        lea,  A 


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fa   -   vour   wi'     woo  •  in'     was      fash-  ous        to      seek, 
pen    -    ni  -  less     lass      wi'       a        lang   ped    -    i    -    gree. 


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THE    LAIRD    O'   COCKPEN. 


1>1 


III. 

His  wig  was  weel  pouther'd  an'  as  gude  as  new, 
His  waistcoat  was  white,  his  coat  it  was  blue; 
He  put  on  a  ring,  a  sword,  an'  cock'd  hat, 
An'  wha  could  refuse  the  Laird  wi'  a'  that? 

IV. 

He  took  the  gray  mare  an'  rade  cannilr;. 
An'  rapp'd  at  the  yett  o'  Clavers-ha'  lea ; 
'  Gae  tell  mistress  Jean  to  come  speedily  ben, 
She's  wanted  to  speak  wi'  the  Laird  o'  Cockpen, 

v. 

Mistress  Jean  she  was  makin'  the  elder-flowe*  «nne  $ 
4  An'  what  brings  the  Laird  at  sic  a  like  time  ?' 
She  put  off  her  apron,  an'  on  her  silk  goun, 
Her  mutch  wi'  red  ribbons,  an'  gaed  awa'  doo 

VI. 

An'  when  she  cam'  ben  he  bowed  fu'  low, 
An'  what  was  his  errand  he  soon  let  her  know  ; 
Amazed  was  the  Laird  when  the  lady  said,  '  Na !' 
An'  wi  a  laigh  curtsie  she  turn'd  awa'. 

VII. 

Dumfounder'd  was  he,  but  nae  sigh  did  he  gte. 
He  mounted  his  mare  an'  he  rade  cannilie ; 
An'  aften  he  thought,  as  he  gazed  through  the  glen, 
She's  daft  to  refuse  the  Laird  o'  Cockpen. 

VIII. 

An'  now  that  the  Laird  his  exit  had  made, 
Mistress  Jean  reflected  on  what  she  had  said, 
*  Oh  !  for  ane  I'll  get  better  it's  waur  I'll  get  ten, 
I  was  daft  to  refuse  the  Laird  o'  Cockpen  l' 

IX. 

Neist  time  that  the  Laird  and  the  Lady  were  seen, 
They  were  gaun  arm  an'  arm  to  the  kirk  on  the  green  ; 
Now  she  sits  in  the  ha'  like  a  weel  tappit  hen  j 
But  as  yet  there's  nae  chickens  appeared  at  Cockpen. 


15* 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


TULLOCHGORUM. 

Words  by  the  Rev.  John  Skinner. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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i.  Come  gie's     a  sang  Montgom'ry  cried,  And 
2.       O,     Tul  -  lochgorum's  my    de-light,     It 


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lay    your  dis  -  putes   a'         a-side,  What     sig  -  ni-fies      for  folks     to  chide,  For    what  was  done      be-fore     them? 
cars     us     a'        in      ane       u-nite.   And       o    -    ny  sumph  that  keeps  up  spite,    In      conscience    I  ab-hor      him  ; 


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°       Let    Whig  and    To  -  ry     a'         a-gree,     Whig  and  To   -   ry,  Whig  and  To  -  ry,  Whig  and  To   -  ry     a'      a-gree,    To 
For  blythe  and  mer  -  ry  we'll     be    a',  Blythe  and  mer  -  ry,  blythe  and  mer-ry,  Blythe  and  mer  -  ry  we'll  be    a',    And 


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drop  their  whig  -  mig-mo  -  rum  ;    Let  Whig  and  To   -  ry    a'        a-gree,    To  spend  the  nicht     in  mirth  and  glee,    And 
make    a    hap  -  py  quo -rum;    And  blythe  and  mer-  ry  we'll     be    a',     As   lang    as    we     hae  breath  to  draw,    And 


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cheer-fu'  sing  a-lang    wi'  me   The    reel   o'  Tul-loch-go  -  rum. 
dance  till  we   be  like   to  fa'    The    reel  o'  Tul-loch-go    rum. 


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What  need's  there  be  sae  great  a  fraise 
Wi'  dringin',  dull  Italian  lays  ; 
I  wadna  gi'e  our  ain  strathspeys 

For  half-a-hunder  score  o'  them. 
They're  dowf  and  dowie  at  the  best, 
Dowf  and  dowie,  dowf  and  dowie, 
Dowf  and  dowie  at  the  best, 

Wi'  a'  their  variorum ; 
They're  dowf  and  dowie  at  the  best, 
Their  allegros  and  a'  the  rest, 
They  canna  please  a  Highland  taste, 

Compared  wi'  Tullochgorum. 

IV. 

Let  warldly  worms  their  minds  oppress 
Wi'  fears  o'  want  and  double  cess; 
And  sullen  sots  themsel's  distress 

Wi'  keeping  up  decorum : 
Shall  we  sae  sour  and  sulky  sit, 
Sour  and  sulky,  sour  and  sulky, 
Shall  we  sae  sour  and  sulky  sit, 

Like  auld  philosophorum  ? 
Shall  we  sae  sour  and  sulky  sit, 
Wi'  neither  sense,  nor  mirth,  nor  wit, 
Nor  ever  rise  to  shake  a  fit 

To  the  reel  o'  Tullochgorum  ? 


May  choicest  blessings  aye  attend 
Each  honest,  open-hearted  friend, 
And  calm  and  quiet  be  his  end, 

And  a'  that's  guid  watch  o'er  him  : 
May  peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot, 
Peace  and  plenty,  peace  and  plenty, 
Peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot, 

And  dainties  a  great  store  o'  them  : 
May  peace  and  plenty  be  his  lot, 
Unstained  by  ony  vicious  spot, 
And  may  he  never  want  a  groat 

That's  fond  0'  Tullochgorum. 

VI. 

But  for  the  silly,  fawning  fool, 
Wha  loves  to  be  oppression's  tool, 
May  envy  gnaw  his  rotten  soul, 

And  discontent  devour  him  ; 
May  dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chanct, 
Dool  and  sorrow,  dool  and  sorrow, 
Dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chance, 

And  nane  say,  "  Wae's  me  for  him." 
May  dool  and  sorrow  be  his  chance, 
And  a'  the  ills  that  come  frae  France, 
Whae'er  he  be  that  winna  dance 

The  reel  o'  Tullochgorum. 


54 


Voice. 


BONNIE   MARY  OF  ARGYLE. 


Words  by  C.  JEFFERYS. 


Music  by  S.  Nelson. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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sweet  -  ness, 


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2.  Tho'        thy    voice 


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ny        hue :       Still  to         me        wilt        thou 


has    cheer'd      me,  At     the 

be      dear    -    er  Than 


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BONNIE   MARY   OF   ARGYLE. 


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eve    -    ning's  gen    -    tie        close; 
all  the    world     shall      own  ; 


And  I've    seen        an        eye 

I  have    lov'd      thee      for 


still        bright  -  er 
thy      beau    -    ty, 


Than     the 
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'Twas        thy    voice,      my     gen    -    tie         Ma    -    ry, 
I  have    sought     thy  heart,     dear       Ma  -  ry, 


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X56 


Voice, 


Piano- 
forte. 


J 


THE  BRISK  YOUNG  LAD. 

Author  of  Words  unknown.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL 

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cam'  a    young    man        to        my        dad 

I     .  ""'".     .       was      bak 


ing       when 


die's      door,        My  dad       -      die's      door,         my 

he       cam',  When   .  .      he        cam', 


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dad       -       die's       door,  There    cam' 

when  he         cam',  I        took 


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a    young    man       to        my  dad       -      die's        door,  Cam' 

him       in  and       gae      him       a  scone,  To 


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seek    -  ing     me         to        woo. 
thaw        his     fro    -    zen       mou. 


'  |        And    wow !         but      he     Is'as     a      bon-  nie  young  lad,         A 


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brisk     young  lad,  an'     a         braw  young    lad,       An'    wow!  but    he    was      a       bon -nie  young    lad        Cam' 


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I  set  him  in  aside  the  bink ; 
I  gied  him  bread  and  ale  to  drink  ; 
But  ne'er  a  blythe  styme  wad  he  blink 
Till  he  was  warm  an'  fu\ 

And  wow !  but  he  was,  &c 

IV. 

Gae  get  you  gane,  you  cauldrife  wooer ! 
You  sour-looking,  cauldrife  wooer  ! 
I  straightway  show'd  him  to  the  door, 
Saying,  '  Come  nae  mair  to  woo.' 

And  wow !  but  he  was,  &c. 


There  lay  a  deuk-dub  before  the  door, 
Before  the  door,  before  the  door ; 
There  lay  a  deuk-dub  before  the  door, 
An'  there  fell  he,  I  trow  ! 

And  wow  I  but  he  was,  &c. 

VI. 

Out  cam'  the  gudeman  an'  heigh  he  shouted ; 
Out  cam'  the  gudewife  an'  laigh  she  louted  ; 
An'  a'  the  toun  neebours  were  gather'd  about  it, 
An'  there  lay  he,  I  trow ! 

And  wow  !  but  he  was.  &c. 


VII. 

Then  out  cam'  I  an'  sneer'd  an'  smiled, 
'  Ye  cam'  to  woo  but  ye're  a'  beguiled ; 
Ye've  faun  in  the  dirt  and  ye're  a'  befyled, 
We'll  hae  nae  mair  o'  you  !' 

And  wow !  but  he  was,  &c 


XS3 


Voice. 


Piano - 
Forte. 


MARY  OF  CASTLECARY. 


Words  by  Hector  Macneil. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.  O,         saw    ye        rny       wee        thing,         saw 
2.    I  saw    na      your    wee  thing,    I  saw 


ye  mine    ain  thing?  Saw 

na  your    ain  thing,         Nor  saw 


yc     my         true       love, 
I     your         true      love, 


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down        on     yon     lea  ? 
down         on    yon    lea; 


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Cross'd  she      the      mea  -  clow      yes  -  treen 
But        I       met     my       bon    -  nie    thing,    late 


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in    the       gloa  -  min', 


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Sought     she    the       burn  -    ie    where       flowr's     the     haw  -  tree  ?  Her 

Down        by    the      burn  -    ie    where        flowr's     the     haw  -  tree.  Her 


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is        lint  -  white,    her 
is        lint  -  white,    her 


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MARY   OF   CASTLECARY. 


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skin       it     is  milk-white  ; 
skin       it  was  milk-white  ; 


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Dark  is      the  blue     o'  her 
Dark  was   the  blue      o'  her 


saft      roll-ing  e'e, 
saft       roll-ing  e'e, 


Red,  red  her    ripe  lips,  and 
Red,  red  her    ripe  lips,  and 


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sweet  -  er  than    ro  -  ses  ;     Where  could  my     wee  thing  wan  -  der  frae   me  ? 
sweet  -  er  than    ro  -  ses  ;      S  weet  were  the     kisses  that     she     gae   to      me. 


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1 


in. 

It  was  na  my  wee  thing,  it  was  na  my  ain  thing, 

It  was  na  my  true  love  ye  met  by  the  tree  ; 
Proud  is  her  leal  heart,  and  modest  her  nature, 

She  never  lo'ed  ony  till  ance  she  lo'ed  me. 
Her  name  it  is  Mary,  she's  frae  Castlecary, 

Aft  has  she  sat,  when  a  bairn,  on  my  knee ; 
Fair  as  your  face  is,  wer't  fifty  times  fairer, 

Young  braggait,  she  ne'er  would  gie  kisses  to  thee. 


IV. 

It  was  then  your  Mary,  she's  frae  Castlecary, 

It  was  then  your  true  love  I  met  by  the  tree ; 
Proud  as  her  heart  is,  and  modest  her  nature, 

Sweet  were  the  kisses  that  she  gae  to  me. 
Sair  gloom'd  his  dark  brow,  blood-red  his  cheek  grew, 

Wild  flash'd  the  fire  frae  his  red  rolling  e'e  ! 
Ye's  rue  sair  this  mornin'  your  boasts  an  your  scorning .; 

Defend  ye,  fause  traitor,  fu'  loudly  ye  lie ! 


Awa'  wi'  beguiling,  cried  the  youth,  smiling 

Aff  went  the  bonnet,  the  lint-white  locks  flee  ; 
The  belted  plaid  fa'ing,  her  white  bosom  showing, 

Fair  stood  the  loved  maid  wi'  the  dark  rolling  e'e. 
Is  it  my  wee  thing,  is  it  my  ain  thing? 

Is  it  my  true  love  here  that  I  see? 
O  Jamie,  forgie  me,  your  heart's  constant  to  mc, 

I'll  never  mair  wander,  dear  laddie,  frae  thee- 


i6o 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


LAST  MAY  A  BRAW  WOOER. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


1 


ifi- 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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May  a     braw     woo 

spak'        o'       the       darts 


er    cam'    down 
o'      my       bon 


the    lang     glen, 
nie  black     een, 


And     sair 
And    vow'd 


wi'    his 
for     my 


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love 


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dee    -    in' ;         I  said       he  micht  dee  when    he       lik  -  ed    for     Jean  ;     The        guid         for  -  gie     me    for 


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lieve    me,  be-  lieve    me,  The  deuce  gae  with  him      to    be  -  lieve      me. 
lee  -  in',  for    lee    -    in',  The      guid        for  -  gie      me   for      lee     -    in'. 


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LAST    MAY   A  BRAW  WOOER.  ,fel 

m. 

A  weel  stockit  mailin',  himself  o't  the  laird, 

And  marriage,  aff  hand,  was  his  proffer; 
I  never  loot  on  that  I  kenn'd  it  or  cared, 

But  thocht  I  might  hae  a  waur  offer,  waur  offer 

But  thocht  I  might  hae  a  waur  offer. 

IV. 

But  what  do  you  think  ?  in  a  fortnicht  or  less 

The  diel's  in  his  taste  to  gang  near  her ; 
He  up  the  Gateslack  to  my  black  cousin  Bess, 

Guess  ye  how,  the  jaud,  I  could  bear  her,  could  bear  her. 

Guess  ye  how,  the  jaud,  I  could  bear  her. 

v. 

But  a'  the  next  week,  as  I  fretted  wi'  care, 

I  gaed  to  the  tryst  o'  Dalgarnock  ; 
And  wha  but  my  braw  fickle  wooer  was  there? 

Wha  glower'd  as  if  he'd  seen  a  warlock,  a  warlock, 

Wha  glower'd  as  if  he'd  seen  a  warlock; 

VI. 

Oat  ower  my  left  shouther  I  gied  him  a  blink 

Lest  neebors  micht  say  I  was  saucy  ; 
My  wooer  he  caper'd  as  he'd  been  in  drink, 

And  vow'd  that  I  was  his  dear  lassie,  dear  lassie, 

And  vow'd  that  I  was  his  dear  lassie. 

VII. 

i  speir'd  for  my  cousin,  fu'  couthie  and  swecc. 

Gin  she  had  recover'd  her  hearin' 
And  how  my  auld  shoon  fitted  her  shauchled  feet ; 

Guid  save  us,  how  he  fell  a  swearin,  a  swearin', 

Guid  save  us,  how  he  fell  a  swearin 

VIII. 

He  begged  for  gudesake  I  wad  be  his  wife, 

Or  else  I  would  kill  him  wi'  sorrow ; 
Sae  e'en  to  preserve  the  puir  body  in  life, 

I  think  I  maun  wed  him  to-morrow,  to-morrow, 

I  think  I  maun  wed  him  to  'norrow. 


■b2 


0,  WILLIE  BREW'D  A  PECK  0'  MAUT. 

Words  by  Robert  Burns.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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Wil     -    lie 
are        we 


peck         o' 
mer    -    ry 


maut, 

boys; 


And  Rob  and       Al    -     Ian 

Three  mer      -      ry        boys,        I 

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cam      to     prie ;  Three      bly  -  ther        lads,  that         lee  -  lang      night, 

trow,    are     we ;  And       mony    a  nicht         we've       mer  -  ry        been, 


Ye        wad   -    na  fand      in 
And       mo    -    ny    mae     we 


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O,  WILLIE   BREW'D   A   PECK   O'   MAUT. 


163 


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just  a    wee    drap  in      our      e'e ;      The      cock  may  craw,        the        day        may    daw',  But 

1  I 

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aye      "we'll       taste  .      the  bar    -    ley        bree. 


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III. 

It  is  the  moon— I  ken  her  horn — 
That's  blinkin'  in  the  lift  sae  hie  ; 

She  shines  sae  bricht  to  wyle  us  hamc, 
But  by  my  sooth  she'll  wait  a  wee. 
We  are  nae  fou,  &c. 


IV. 

Wha  first  shall  rise  to  gang  awar, 
A  cuckold  coward  loon  is  he  : 

Wha  last  beside  his  chair  shall  fa', 
H«:  is  the  king  amang  us  three. 
We  are  nae  fou,  &5. 


1 64 


MAGGIE  LAUDER. 


Words  by  Francis  Semple. 


Arranged  by  T.  S,  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  Wha  wad    -    na  be 

2.  Maggie,  quo'  he,         and  by 


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in       love        Wi'        bon 
my    bags,       I'm        fid 


nie    Mag   -   gie       Lau      -      der,  A 

gin'    fain        to         see  thee ;  Sit 


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nie  bird,      In       troth 


what   was't     they      ca'd  her ;  Right 

I       win    -    na       steer  thee ;  For 


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on  your  gate,  ye  bladder-skate,  My  name  is  Mag  -  gie  Laud  -  er." 
las -ses  loup  as  they  were  daft,When   I  blaw  up     my  chant -er. 


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in. 

Piper,  quo'  Meg,  hae  ye  your  bags  ? 

Or  is  your  drone  in  order  ? 
If  ye  be  Rob,  I've  heard  of  you, 

Live  you  upon  the  border  ? 
The  lasses  a',  baith  far  and  near, 

Have  heard  o'  Rob  the  Ranter  ; 
I'll  shake  my  foot  wi'  richt  gude  will, 

Gif  you'll  blaw  up  your  chanter. 

IV. 

Then  to  his  bags  he  flew  wi'  speed, 

About  the  drone  he  twisted ; 
Meg  up  and  wallop'd  o'er  the  green. 

For  brawly  could  she  frisk  it. 
Weel  done,  quo'  he — play  up,  quo'  she. 

Weel  bobb'd,  quo'  Rob  the  Ranter  ; 
'Tis  worth  my  while  to  play,  indeed, 

When  I  hae  sic  a  dancer. 


v. 

Weel  hae  ye  played  your  part,  quo'  Meg, 

Your  cheeks  are  like  the  crimson  ; 
There's  nanc  in  Scotland  plays  sae  weel 

Since  we  lost  Habbie  Simson  : 
I've  lived  in  Fife,  baith  maid  and  wife, 

These  ten  years  and  a  quarter ; 
Gin  ye  should  come  to  Anster  fair, 

Speir  ye  for  Maggie  Lauder. 


1 66 


CAULD  KAIL  IN  ABERDEEN. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


EBEE 


Voice. 


=P 


Moderato. 


1.  There's       cauld    kail      in 

2.  There's    Johnnie  Smith  has 


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gie,  Where       il     -     ka    lad    maun  hae    his    lass,     But 
gie ;  But       were     she  mine,        up -on      my    life,        I'd 


A  -  ber  -  deen,    An'        cus-tocks       in       Stra'-bo 
got      a      wife,  Wha'     scrimps  him     o'         his     co 


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I         maun 
dook    her 


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Rie. 


For 

For 


maun  ha'e 
maun  ha'e 


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my       three    -    gir'd    cog      For 
my        three    -    gir'd    cog      For 

=1 N— % 


-V-  - 


CAULD    KAIL    IN   ABERDEEN. 


1 67 


i 


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a'    the   wives     in      Bo     -     gie. 
a'    the   wives     in      Bo     .     gie. 


III. 

An'  twa  three  todlin'  weans  they  ha'e, 

The  pride  o'  a'  Stra'bogie  ; 
Whene'er  the  totums  cry  for  meat 

She  curses  aye  his  cogie ; 
Crying,  "Wae  betide  the  three  gir'd  cog, 

O  wae  betide  the  cogie  ; 
It  does  mair  skaith  than  a'  the  ills 

That  happen  in  Stra'bogie." 

IV. 

She  found  him  ance  at  Willie  Sharp's, 

An'  what  they  maist  did  laugh  at, 
She  brak'  the  bicker,  spilt  the  drink, 

An'  tightly  cuff'd  his  haffet ; 
Crying,"  Wae  betide  the  three  gir'd  cog, 

O  wae  betide  the  cogie  ; 
It  does  mair  skaith  than  a'  the  ills 

That  happen  in  Stra'bogie." 


Yet  here's  to  ilka  honest  soul 

Wha'll  drink  wi'  me  a  cogie, 
An1  for  ilk  silly  whinging  fool 

We'll  dook  him  in  a  bogie. 
For  I  maun  hae  my  cogie,  sirs, 

I  canna  want  my  cogie ; 
I  wadna  gie  my  three  gir'd  cog 

For  a'  the  wives  in  Bogie. 


i68 


VOICE. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


I  LO'E   NA  A  LADDIE  BUT  ANE. 


Words  by  Hector  Macneil. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


■&: 


Moderate). 


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lo'e        na    a       lad  -  die  but       ane,    . 
i    -   thers  brag  weel     o'     their      gear,  . 


He         lo'es      na      a        las  -  sie       but        me, 
Their      land,    and  their  lord  -  ly        de   -    gree ; 


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wil    -    lin'     to       mak    me    his       ain, 
care       na     for    aught  but    my      dear, 


And  his       ain        I         am      wil   -   lin'     to  be. 

For    he's       il    -    ka      thing  lord   -    ly       to  me. 


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He    coft      me    a     roke  -  lay    o'        blue,     . 
His  words    are  sae    su  -  gar'd,  sae      sweet,  . 


An'    a        pair      o'   mit  -  tens    o'      green,     .     .  The 

His   sense  drives  ilk  fear    far      a     -    wa',     .     .      £        I 


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I    LO'E    NA    A    LADDIE    BUT    ANE. 


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price      was    a      kiss      o'      my      mou',     .     .  An'     I       paid    him  the        debt      yes  -    treen.   .    . 

lis    -   ten,  puir   fool,    an'      I        greet,    .     .         Yet  how  sweet    are    the     tears    as  they      fa'.  .      .     . 


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in. 

Dear  lassie,  he  cries  wi'  a  jeer, 

Ne'er  heed  what  the  auld  anes  will  say  ; 
Though  we've  little  to  brag  o',  ne'er  fear, 

What's  gowd  to  a  heart  that  is  wae? 
Our  lord  has  baith  honours  and  wealth, 

Yet  see  how  he's  dwining  wi'  care ; 
How  we,  though  we've  naething  but  health, 

Are  cantie  an'  leal  evermair. 


IV. 

O  Marion  !  the  heart  that  is  true 

Has  something  mair  costly  than  gear ; 
Ilk  e'en  it  has  naething  to  rue, 

Ilk  morn'  it  has  naething  to  fear. 
Ye  warldlings,  gae  hoard  up  your  store, 

And  tremble  for  fear  ought  ye  tyne ; 
Guard  your  treasures  wi'  lock,  bar,  an'  door, 

While  here  in  my  arms  I  lock  mine. 


He  ends  wi'  a  kiss  an'  a  smile — 

Waes  me,  can  I  tak'  it  amiss  ? 
My  laddie's  unpractis'd  in  guile, 

He's  free  aye  to  daut  an'  to  kiss. 
Ye  lasses  wha  lo'e  to  torment 

Your  wooers  wi'  fause  scorn  an'  strife, 
Play  your  pranks  ;  I  hae  gi'en  my  consent, 

An  this  nicht  I  am  Jamie's  for  life. 


170 


Voice. 


THE  YELLOW-HAIR'D  LADDIE. 


Words  by  Allan  Ramsay. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


:2; 


Piano- 
Forte. 


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rose, 
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thing  at  a' ; 


B 


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Wi'  cheeks      like 

The  yel    -    lo-.v 


the 
hair'd 


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lad 


and         eyes 
has         nae 


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22 


III. 

There's  mealy  mou'd  Andrew  comes  up  frae  the  mill, 
And  lang  Will,  the  farmer,  comes  down  frae  the  hill; 
They  crack  wi'  my  faither  o'  markets  an'  kye, 
As  gin  they  thocht  love  wi'  their  siller  to  buy. 

IV, 

There's  Adam,  the  factor,  he  scrapes  an1  he  bows, 
And  ca's  on  the  stars  a'  to  witness  his  vows; 
But  he  courts  my  tocher,  and  sae  he  is  free 
To  marry  my  tocher — he'll  ne'er  marry  me. 


AI 


172 


IN  THE  GARB  OF  OLD  GAUL. 


Words  by  Sir  Henry  Erskine. 


Music  by  General  Reid. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 

at 


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Voice. 


Maestoso. 


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1.  In 

2.  No 


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the       garb  of  old  Gaul,      With  the        fire  of        old    Rome,      From  the 

ef    -      fe      -      mi    -      nate  cus     -    toms  our         si     -      news      un  -  brace,        No  lux 


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heath  -co  -  ver'd     moun  -  tains       of 
u     -      ri    -    ous          ta    -    bles        e 
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Sco    -    tia     we  come,  Where  the        Ro  -  mans     en  -   dea  -  vour'd    our 
ner  -    vate    our  race ;         Our  loud     soun  -  ding    pipe   breathes  the 


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coun  -   try         to       gain,       But       our      an    -    ces  -  tors  fought      and     they  fought    not        in    vain, 

true      mar  -   tial     strain,     And       our  hearts       still  the         old         Scot  -  tish     va   -  lour       re  -  tain. 


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Such    our  love     of    li  -   ber-  ty,     our     coun  -  try  and     our  laws,    That,        like     our  an  -   cestors       of  old,     we 

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stand     by  free-dom's  cause  ;  We'll      brave  -  ly   fight,  like   he  -  roes  bright,for     hon-our  and  ap  -  plause,       And      de 


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fy     the  French  with  all  their  art       to        al    -   ter     our  laws. 


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in. 

As  a  storm  in  the  ocean  when  Boreas  blows, 
So  are  we  enraged  when  we  rush  on  our  foes; 
We  sons  of  the  mountains,  tremendous  as  rocks, 
Dash  the  force  of  our  foes  with  our  thundering  strokes. 
Such  our  love,  &c. 

IV. 

We're  tall  as  the  oak  on  the  mount  of  the  vale, 
Are  swift  as  the  roe  which  the  hound  doth  assail ; 
As  the  full  moon  in  autumn  our  shields  do  appear, 
Minerva  would  dread  to  encounter  our  spear. 
Such  our  love,  &c. 

v. 

Quebec  and  Cape  Breton,  the  pride  of.  old  France, 
In  their  troops  fondly  boasted  till  we  did  advance; 


But  when  our  claymores  they  saw  us  produce, 
Their  courage  did  fail,  and  they  sued  for  a  truce. 
Such  our  love,  &c 


VI. 

In  our  realm  may  the  fury  of  faction  long  cease; 

May  our  councils  be  wise,  and  our  commerce  increase; 

And  in  Scotia's  cold  climate  may  each  of  us  find 

That  our  friends  still  prove  true,  and  our  beauties  prove  kind. 
Then  we'll  defend  our  liberty,  our  country,  and  our  laws, 
And  teach  our  late  posterity  to  fight  in  freedom's  cause, 
That.they  like  our  bold  ancestors,  for  honour  and  applause, 
May  defy  the  French  with  all  their  art  to  alter  our  laws. 


174 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


THE   KAIL   BROSE   OF  AULD   SCOTLAND. 


Words  by  Alex.  Watson. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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1.  When  our 

2.  When 


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an  -    cient  fore  -  fa  -  thers      a   -    greed     wi'      the      laird        For       a        spot         o'      guid  ground    for       to 
Fcr   -    gus,     the      first        of       our      kings,      I         sup  -  pose,        At       the      head         of       his        no    -  bles      had 


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be  a  kail  -  yard,         It  was         to  the      brose       that     they       paid      their        re    -    gard. 

van  -  quish'd     our        foes. —  Just  be  -  fore       they         be   "    gan       they'd   been       feast    -   ing         on        brose. 


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Oh,      the    kail    brose      of     auld      Scot    -    land,      And 


oh, 


for    the    Scot  -  tish      kail 


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THE    KAIL    BROSE    OF    AULD    SCOTLAND. 


'75 


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Then  our  sodgers  were  dress'd  in  their  kilts  and  short  hose, 
With  bonnet  and  belt,  which  their  dress  did  compose, 
And  a  bag  of  oatmeal  on  their  back  to  make  brose. 
Oh,  the  kail  brose,  &c 

IV. 

In  our  free  early  ages,  a  Scotsman  could  dine 
Without  English  roast  beef,  or  famous  French  wins; 
Kail  brose,  when  weel  made,  he  aye  thocht  it  divine 
Oh,  the  kail  brose,  &c. 


At  our  annual  election  of  bailies,  or  mayor, 
Nae  kickshaws  of  puddin's  or  tarts  were  seen  there- 
But  a  cog  o'  kail  brose  was  the  favourite  fare. 
Oh,  the  kail  brose,  &c. 

VI. 

But  now  since  the  thistle  is  joined  to  the  rose, 
And  the  English  nae  langer  are  counted  our  foer, 
We've  lost  a  good  part  of  our  relish  for  brose. 
Oh,  the  kail  brose,  &c. 


^~ ~—  VII 

But  each  true-hearted  Scotsman,  by  nature  jocose, 
Can  cheerfully  dine  on  a  dishful  of  brose, 
And  the  grace  be  a  wish  to  get  plenty  of  those. 
Oh,  the  kail  brose,  &c 


176 


I 


OWRE  THE  WATER  TO  CHARLIE. 

Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


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boat 
weel 


me 
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owre,     come 
loe  my 


row         me       owre,      Come       boat       me        owre        to      Char    -     lie,        I'll 
Char    -    lie's       name,  Though     some     there         be  ab    -    hor        him,       But 


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OWRE   THE    WATER   TO   CHARLIE. 


177 


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Char 


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lie ;         Come         weal,         come  woe,  we'll         ga  -  ther  and 


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in. 

I  swear  by  moon  and  stars  sae  bright, 
And  the  sun  that  glances  early, 

If  I  had  twenty  thousand  lives 
I'd  gie  them  a'  for  Charlie. 

We'll  owre  the  water,  &c. 


IV. 

I  ance  had  sons,  I  now  hae  nane — 

I  bred  them  toiling  sairly 
And  I  would  bear  them  a'  again, 

And  lose  them  a'  for  Charlie. 

We'll  owre  the  water,  Ac. 


178 


LASS  GIN  YE  LO'E  ME,  TELL  ME  NOO. 

Words  by  James  Tytler.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhiix. 


Voice. 


Allegretto- 


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PlANO- 
FORTE. 


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1.  I 

2.  I 


ha'e    laid 
ha'e  a  house 


a        her-rin'        in       saut,  Lass       gin    ye      lo'e  me, 

on  yon    -     der    muir,  Lass      gin    ye      lo'e         me, 


II 


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tell 
tell 

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I  ha'e  brew'd    a 

sparrows    may  dance    up 

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for  -  pit     o1  maut,      An'   I 
on         the  floor,      An'    I 


can-na 
can-na 


come  il 
come  il 


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day 
day 


•  to    woo. 
to    woo. 


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I        ha'e  a     calf      will        soon    be    a      cow, 
I        ha'e  a      butt      an'         I        ha'e  a      ben, 


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Lass    gin  ye     lo'e 
Lass    gin   ye      lo'e 


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me,     tell 
me,     tell 


me    now ; 

me    now , 


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LASS    GIN   YE    LOE   ME,   TELL   ME   NOG. 


179 


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pig  will        soon      be 


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An'      I        can  -  na        come       il 


ha'e      three    chick    -     ens       an' 


fat        hen,         An'      I        can  -  na       come 


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HI. 


I  hae  a  hen  wi'  a  happity  leg, 

Lass  gin  ye  lo'e  me,  tell  me  now; 
Which  ilka  day  lays  me  an  egg, 

An'  I  canna  come  ilka  day  to  woo. 
I  hae  a  kebbuck  upon  my  shelf, 

Lass  gin  ye  lo'e  me,  tell  me  now; 
7  downa  eat  it  a'  myself, 

An'  I  winna  come  ony  mair  to  woo. 


l8o 


Voice. 


SHE'S  FAIR  AND  FAUSE. 


Words  by  ROBERT  BURNS. 


«--*- 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


:fi: 


fc8: 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Anckintino. 


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2.     Wha 


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::§; 


and 
ye 


fause      that         cau     -    ses      my     smart, 
be        that  wo     -       -      man      love, 


I 

To 


lo'ed         her       mei  -  kle 
this  be         ne 


and 
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She's     bro 
Nae       fer 


ken  her 
-     lie 


And 


vow,    she's     bro  -  ken  my     heart, 
'tis    though     fie    -    kle  she     prove,        A 


I        may        e'en    gae 
wo    -     man       has't    by 


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A  coof      cam'        in        -  wi'  routh         o'      gear,       And 

O  wo    -    man        love    -    ly,  wo    -    man     fair,  An 


hae 
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SHE'S   FAIR   AND   FAUSE. 


181 


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dear   -    est   dear :     But        wo    -     man         is         but        warld's         gear,       Sae         let         the      bon-nie       lass 
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Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


COME  UNDER  MY  PLAIDIE. 


'^  Words  by  HECTOR  MACNEIL. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


i.     Come 
2.      Gae 


Allegretto. 


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un    -    dcr        my        plai   -    die,       the    night's   gaun       to         fa',      Come      in        frae        the      cauld    blast,       the 
\va        wi'      your       plai  -    die,      auld     Don  -  aid        gae        wa',         I  fear       na         the      cauld    blast,       the 


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me,  There's 
ye,       Ye 


drift,      and       the      snaw ;  Come       un    -    der 
drift,     nor       the     snaw ;     Gae 


wa       wi 


my       plai 
your      plai 


die        and      sit       down       be   -   side 
die,        I'll      no         sit         be    -   side 


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un    -    der       my  .    plai  -   die     and        sit     down      be  -    side      me,  There's  room    in't,     dear      las   -    sie, 
dan  -    ces       sae       licht  -    ly,      sae     grace  -  fu'        or       ticht  -    ly,       His  cheek's  like       the      new     rose, 


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lieve       me 
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the        snaw. 


III. 

Dear  Marion,  let  that  flee  stick  fast  to  the  wa\ 
Your  Jock's  but  a  gowk,  and  has  naething  ava  ; 
The  haill  o'  his  pack  he  has  now  on  his  back ; 
He's  thretty,  and  I  am  but  threescore  an'  twa. 
Be  frank  now  and  kindly — I'll  busk  ye  aye  finely, 
To  kirk  or  to  market  there'll  few  gang  sae  braw  ; 
A  bien  house  to  bide  in,  a  chase  for  to  ride  in, 
And  flunkies  to  tend  ye  as  aft  as  ye  ca\ 

IV. 

My  faither  aye  tell'd  me,  my  mither  an'  a', 
Ye'd  mak'  a  gude  husband,  an'  keep  me  aye  braw  ; 
It's  true  I  lo'e  Johnnie,  he's  gude  and  he's  bonnie, 
But  waes  me !  ye  ken  he  has  naething  ava ! 
I  hae  little  tocher,  you've  made  a  gude  offer, 
I'm  now  mair  than  twenty,  my  time  is  but  sma'; 
Sae  gie  me  your  plaidie,  I'll  creep  in  beside  ye, 
I  thocht  you'd  been  aulder  than  threescore  an'  twa. 


v. 

She  crap  in  ayont  him  beside  the  stane  \va', 
Whar  Johnnie  was  listenin'  an'  heard  her  tell  a'; 
The  day  was  appointed,  his  proud  heart  it  dunted, 
And  struck  'gainst  his  side  as  if  burstin'  in  twa. 
He  wander'd  hame  weary,  the  nicht  it  was  dreary 
And  thowless,  he  tint  his  gate  deep  'mang  the  snaw ; 
The  howlet  was  screamin',  while  Johnnie  cried  "Women 
Would  marry  Auld  Nick,  if  he'd  keep  them  aye  braw!" 

VI. 

"  O  the  deil's  in  the  lasses,  they  gang  now  sae  braw, 
They'll  lie  down  wi'  auld  men  o'  fourscore  an'  twa ; 
The  haill  o'  their  marriage  is  gowd  and  a  carriage, 
Plain  love  is  the  cauldest  blast  now  that  can  blaw  ! 
But  lo'e  them  I  canna,  nor  marry  I  winna 
Wi'  ony  daft  lassie  as  fair  as  a  queen; 
Till  love  hae  a  share  o't,  the  never  a  hair  o't 
Shall  gang  in  my  wallet  at  mornin'  or  e'en.'' 


i84 


Voice. 


0  DINNA  THINK,  BONNIE  LASSIE. 


Words  by  Hector  Macneil. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  O       din  -  na  think,      bon    -   nie    las  -  sie,       I'm 

2.  It's    but     a        night  an'  half        a    day     that       I'll 


gaun      to   leave        you ; 
leave    my   dear    -     ie, 


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I'm      gaun      to  leave      you ;    I'll    tak'       a   stick     in    -  to       my  hand  An'   come     a  -  gain   and 
I'll      leave     my  dea    -    rie ;  When-e'er     the   sun    gaes  west      the  loch    I'll    come     a  -  gain    and 


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O   DINNA   THINK,    BONNIE   LASSIE. 


185 


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Far's    the  gate     ye    hae       to    gang,      dark's   the  night  an'   ee     -      rie,        Far's  the  gate     ye    hae      to      gang, 
Din   -  na  gang,   my  taon  -  nie      lad,  din  -  na  gang    an'   leave        nie,         Din  -  na  gang,    my  bon  -  nie        lad, 


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dark's    the  ni^ht  an'       ee 


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din  -    na  gang   an'    leave      me ;  When  a'      the  lave    are  sound    a  -   sleep, 


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stay   this  ac  night  wi'   your  love,  an'    din  -  na  gang  an'  leave    me. 

a'      the  lee  lang  night  I'm  sad    wi'    thinking    o'      my  dea  -    rie. 


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Brisk. — O  dinna  think,  bonnie  lassie,  I'm  gaun  to  leave  you, 
Dinna  think,  bonnie  lassie,  I'm  gaun  to  leave  you; 
Dinna  think,  bonnie  lassie,  I'm  gaun  to  leave  you, 
Whene'er  the  sun  gaes  out  o'  sicht  I'll  come  again  an'  see  you. 

Slow. — Waves  are  rising  o'er  the  sea,  winds  blaw  loud  an'  fear  me, 
Waves  are  rising  o'er  the  sea,  winds  blaw  loud  an'  fear  me ; 
While  the  waves  and  winds  do  roar  I  am  wae  an'  dreary, 
And  gin  ye  lo'e  me  as  ye  say,  ye  winna  gang  an'  leave  me. 


IV. 

Brisk. — O  never  mair,  bonnie  lassie,  will  I  gang  an'  leave  you ; 
Never  mair,  bonnie  lassie,  will  I  gang  an'  leave  you ; 
Never  mair,  bonnie  lassie,  will  I  gang  an'  leave  you  ; 
E'en  let  the  warld  gang  as  it  will,  I'll  stay  at  hame  an'  cheer  thee. 
Frae  his  hand  he  cuist  his  stick,  I  winna  gang  an'  leave  you; 
Threw  his  plaid  into  the  neuk;  never  can  I  grieve  you ; 
Drew  his  boots  an'  flang  them  by,  cried  my  lass  be  cheerie, 
I'll  kiss  the  tear  frae  aff  thy  cheek,  and  never  leave  my  dearie. 


186 


0   WHA'S  FOR  SCOTLAND  AND  CHARLIE? 


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wha's       for     Scot-land  and     Char    -     -    lie  ? 
up  in       the      morn  -    ing     ear       -     -     ly, 


O       wha's 
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come      o'er    the     sea     to      his         ain        coun  -  trie, 
bon  -   nie  white  rose,  the   plaid,  and  ;  the      hose, 


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Now       wha's        for      Scot-land  and       Char    -    lie  ? 
Are  on  for     Scot-land  and       Char    -    lie. 


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O  WHA'S   FOR  SCOTLAND   AND  CHARLIE? 


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The  flags  are  fleeing  fu'  rarely, 
The  flags  are  fleeing  fu'  rarely; 

And  Charlie's  awa' 

To  see  his  ain  ha', 
And  to  bang  his  faes  right  sairly. 
Then  wha's  for  Scotland  and  Charlie? 
Then  wha's  for  Scotland  and  Charlie  ? 

He's  come  o'er  the  sea 

To  his  ain  countrie; 
Then  wha's  for  Scotland  and  Charlie? 


N 


1 88 


THE   JOLLY  BEGGAR. 

Words  by  King  James  V.  of  Scotland. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAuhijx. 


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2.  He  wad  nei-ther  lie     in  -  to    the  barn  nor 


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yet  wad    he     in       byre,        But 


he  took    up   his       quar  -  ters    in 
in      a  -  hint  the        na'    door    or 


to 


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gang    nae  mair  a  ro  -  vin'     sae     late    in  -  to    the      night,   And  we'll   gang    nae  mair  a      ro  -  vin'  let      the 


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moon shine  e'er  sae    bright,  And  we'll  gang  nae  mair    a      ro    -    vin.' 


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The  beggar's  bed  was  made  at  e'en  wi'  gude  clean  straw  and  hay, 
Just  in  ahint  the  ha'  door,  and  there  the  beggar  lay. 

And  we'll  gang  nae  mair,  &c. 


IV. 


Up  raise  the  gudeman's  dochter,  and  a'  to  bar  the  door, 
And  there  she  saw  the  beggar  man  was  standing  on  the  floor. 

And  we'll  gang  nae  mair,  &c. 


He  took  the  lassie  in  his  arms,  and  to  the  neuk  he  ran; 
Oh !  hooly,  hooly  wi'  me  sir,  ye'll  wauken  our  gudeman, 

And  we'll  gang  nae  mair,  &c. 


VI. 


He  took  a  horn  frae  his  side  and  blew  baith  loud  and  shrill, 
And  four-and-twenty  belted  knights  came  skipping  o'er  the  hill. 

And  we'll  gang  nae  mair,  &c. 


VII. 


And  he  took  out  his  little  knife,  loot  a'  his  his  duddies  fa', 
And  he  stood  the  brawest  gentleman  that  was  amang  them  a'. 

And  we'll  gang  nae  mair,  &c. 


189 


WHISTLE  O'ER  THE  LAVE  OT. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  First  when  Maggie  was    my  care, 

2.  How     we  live  my  Meg     an'  me, 


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Heav'n   I  thought  was    in      her  air  ;  Now  we're  married  speir   nae  mair,  But  whistle      o'er     the  lave      o't. 

How    we  love    and  how    we  gree,     I       care  -  na  by  how    few    may  see ;  Sae  whistle      o'er      the  lave      o't. 


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Meg    was  meek  and  Meg    was  mild,  Sweet  and  harm  -  less       as        a  child ;    Wi  -  ser  men  than  me's  beguil'd  ;  Sae 
Wha        I     wish  were  mag  -  got's  meat,  Dish'd  up      in        her    wind-  ing  sheet,     I    could  write  but  Megmaunsee't;  Sae 


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WHA'LL  BE  KING  BUT  CHARLIE? 


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claim        your    right    -    fu'        law    -    fu'        king,        For    wha'll        be      king 
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but        Char    -    lie? 


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The  Lowlands  a',  baith  great  an'  sma\ 
Wi'  mony  a  lord  an'  laird,  hae 

Declared  for  Scotia's  king  an'  law, 
An'  speir  ye  wha  but  Charlie  ? 

Come  through  the  heather,  &c. 


IV. 

There's  ne'er  a  lass  in  a'  the  land 
But  vows,  baith  late  an'  early, 

To  man  she'll  ne'er  gie  heart  or  han' 
Wha  wadna  fecht  for  Charlie. 

Come  through  the  heather,  &c. 


Then  here's  a  health  to  Charlie's  cause, 

An'  be't  complete  an'  early ; 
Her  very  name  our  heart's  blood  warms — 

To  arms  for  Royal  Charlie 

Come  through  the  heather,  &c. 


192 


FAREWELL   TO   LOCHABER. 


Words  by  Allan  RAMSAY. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Voice. 


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1.  Fare  -  well     to     Loch  - 

2.  Though  hur  -  ri  -  canes 


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though    rise      ev'    -     ry  wind, 


Where     heart  -  some        wi' 
No  tern   -   pest        can 


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far       dis  -  tant        shore,  May 

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III. 
Then  glory,  my  Jeanie,  maun  plead  my  excuse  ; 
Since  honour  commands  me,  how  can  I  refuse  ? 
Without  it,  I  ne'er  can  have  merit  for  thee ; 
And  losing  thy  favour  I'd  better  not  be. 
I  gae  then,  my  lass,  to  win  honour  and  fame, 
And,  if  I  should  chance  to  come  glorious  hame, 
I'll  bring  a  heart  to  thee  with  love  running  o'er, 
And  then  I'll  leave  thee  and  Lochaber  no  more. 


i?4 


HEATHER   JOCK. 


Voice. 


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Author  of  Words  unknown. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i.  Hea-ther  Jock  was  stark  and  grim,Fought  wi'  a'  would fechtwi'  him, 
2.  Jockkent  il  -  ka  bore  and bole,Couldcreepthroughawee   bit  hole, 


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Swank         and       sup     -    pie,      sharp       and 
Quiet     -      ly         pil    .     fer       eggs         and 


thin,  Fine        for       gaun         a    -    gainst       the         win.' 

cheese,        Dunts        o'         ba    -    con,      skeps        o'  bees. 


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HEATHER  JOCK. 


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Taw    -  me 

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Jock. 


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in. 

Eppie  Blaikie  lost  her  gown, 

She  coft  sae  dear  at  borough  town  ; 

Sandy  Tamson's  Sunday  wig 

Left  the  house  to  run  the  rig. 

Jenny  Baxter's  blankets  a' 

Took  a  thocht  to  gang  awa', 

And  a'  the  weans'  bit  printed  frocks— 

Wha  was  the  thief  but  Heather  Jock. 

IV. 

Jock  was  nae  religious  youth, 
For  at  the  priest  he  thraw'd  his  mouth  ; 
He  wadna  say  a  grace,  nor  pray, 
But  play'd  his  pipes  on  Sabbath  day. 
Robb'd  the  kirk  o'  bann  an'  book, 
Everything  would  lift  he  took; 
He  didna  leave  the  weathercock, 
Sic  a  thief  was  Heather  Jock. 


Nane  wi'  Jock  could  draw  a  tricker, 
'Mang  the  muirfowl  he  was  sicker; 
He  watched  the  wild  ducks  at  the  springs, 
And  hanged  the  hares  in  hempen'  strings; 
Blaz'd  the  burns  and  spear'd  the  fish, 
Jock  had  mony  a  dainty  dish — 
The  best  o'  muirfowl  an'  blackcock 
Aye  graced  the  board  of  Heather  Jock. 


VI. 

Nane  wi'  Jock  had  ony  say 

At  the  neive  or  cudgel  play ; 

Jock  for  bolt  or  bar  e'er  staid, 

Till  ance  the  jail  his  courage  laid. 

Then  the  judge  without  delay 

Sent  him  aff  to  Botany  Bay, 

And  bade  him  mind  the  laws  he  broke, 

And  never  mair  play  Heather  Jock. 


196 


MY  LOVE  SHE'S  BUT  A  LASSIE  YET. 


Words  by  James  Hogg. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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2.  She's 


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love      she's      but        a  las 

nei   -   ther    proud     nor        sau 


sie      yet,  A      light  -  some      love   -   ly  las 

cy      yet,         She's      nei    -   ther    plump    nor        gau 


sie       yet ;        It 
cy       yet ;      But 


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art     -     less         smile's      mair 


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MY  LOVE  SHE'S  BUT  A  LASSIE  YET. 


191 


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III. 

I'm  jealous  o'  what  blesses  her, 
The  very  breeze  that  kisses  her ; 
The  flow'ry  beds  on  which  she  treads, 

Though  wae  for  ane  that  misses  her. 
Then  O  to  meet  my  lassie  yet, 
Up  in  yon  glen  sae  grassy  yet ; 
For  a'  I  see  are  nought  to  me 

Save  her  that's  but  a  lassie  vet 


198 


BLYTHE,   BLYTHE  AND  MERRY  WAS  SHE. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I — fc *: 


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mer  -  ry  was    she,       Blythe      was 

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she      but    and        ben ;  Blythe      by  the    banks         of    Earn,     And 


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1.  By      Och  -   ter  -  tyre       there   grows      the    aik,        On      Yar  -  row      braes       the       bir  -   ken    shaw ;  But 

2.  Her   looks     were    like  a       flow'r        in     May,      Her    smile   was        like  a        sum  -  mer    morn ;  She 


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BLYTHE,   BLYTHE  AND   MERRY  WAS   SHE. 


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Phe    -    mie      was  a         bon   -   nier      lass  Than    braes  o        Yar     -    row  e    -    ver  saw. 

trip    -     ped       by  the     banks        o'       Earn,  As      light's  a       bird         up    -    on         a  thorn. 


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III. 

Her  bonnie  face  it  was  as  meek 

As  ony  lamb  upon  a  lea ; 
The  evening  sun  was  ne'er  sae  sweet 

As  the  blink  o'  Phemie's  e'e. 

Blythe,  blythe,  &£. 


IV. 

The  Highland  hills  I  Ve  wander'd  wide, 
And  o'er  the  Lowlands  I  ha'e  been ; 

But  Phemie  was  the  blythest  lass 
That  ever  trod  the  dewy  green. 
Blythe,  blythe,  &c. 


200 


THE  BUSH  ABOON   TRAQUAIR. 


Words  by  W.  Crawford,  Esq. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHIIX. 


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1.  Hear 

2.  That 


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ry  swam, 
me    glad, 


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No    maid    seem'd  e     ■ 


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complain,  A   -  las !    she    ne'er 

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My       vows    .      .     and     sighs,      like  si 

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THE   BUSH  ABOON   TRAQUAIR. 


201 


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her;  The        bon     -     nie  bush      .      .      a  -  boon     .     .     .     Tra  -  quair  Was 

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Yet  now  she  scornful  flies  the  plain, 

The  fields  we  then  frequented; 
If  e'er  we  meet  she  shows  disdain, 

And  looks  as  ne'er  acquainted. 
The  bonnie  bush  bloom'd  fair  in  May, 

Its  sweets  I'll  aye  remember, 
But  now  her  frowns  make  it  decay, 

It  fades  as  in  December. 


IV. 

Ye  rural  pow*rs  who  hear  my  strains, 

Why  thus  should  Peggy  grieve  me  ? 
Oh !  make  her  partner  in  my  pains. 

Then  let  her  smiles  relieve  me. 
If  not,  my  love  will  turn  despair, 

My  passion  no  more  tender ; 
I'll  leave  the  bush  aboon  Traquair, 

To  lonely  wilds  I'll  wander 


302 


0  THIS   IS   NO  MY  AIM   LASSIE. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


I 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 

9 


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1.  I  see         a        form,       I  see         a        face,       Ye     weel     may       wi'        the       fair  -  est     place ;     It 

2.  She's     bon   -  nie,    bloom  -  in',  straight,  and       tall,       An'    lang       has       had      my      heart      in      thrall ;    An' 

I  '  I        ^H — a !  .  I  3 


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O   THIS   IS    NO    MY   AIN   LASSIE. 


203 

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wants        to  me        the        witch    -   in'      grace,     The  kind 

aye  it       charms     my  ve     -     ry         soul,       The  kind 


-ad- 
love         that's        in 
love         that's        in 


her 
her 


e'e. 
e'c. 


ill. 

A  thief  sae  pawky  is  my  Jean, 
She'll  steal  a  blink  by  a'  unseen  ; 
But  gleg  as  light  are  lovers'  een 
When  kind  love  is  in  the  e'e. 

O  this  is  no  my  ain  lassie,  &c. 


IV. 

It  may  escape  the  courtly  sparks, 
It  may  escape  the  learned  clerks; 
But  wee!  the  watchin'  lover  marks 
The  kind  love  that's  in  her  e'e. 

O  this  is  no  my  ain  lassie,  &c. 


O 


204 


ROSLIN   CASTLE. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  Richard  Hewitt. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


V 


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2.  A    - 


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in  the     sea    -     son  of        the     year,      When       all       things  gay        and  sweet       ap-pear,     That 

wake,      sweet  muse,      the        breath  -  ing  spring      With       rap    -    ture  warms,      a       -       wake       and  sing ;      A     ■ 


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Co    -    lin   with        the 
wake      and  join        the 


morn  -  ing     uy  A 

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hail       the     morn  -  ing        with 


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a  song. 


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e   -     cho'd      back  the  cheer    -     ful  strain, 

add        new        gra      -     ces  to  the  morn. 

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O  hark,  my  love,  on  every  spray 
Each  feather'd  warbler  tunes  his  lay; 
'Tis  beauty  fires  the  ravish'd  throng, 
And  love  inspires  the  melting  song. 
Then  let  my  raptur'd  notes  arise, 
For  beauty  darts  from  Nanny's  eyes; 
And  love  my  rising  bosom  warms, 
And  fills  my  soul  with  sweet  alarms. 


IV. 

O  come,  my  love,  thy  Colin's  lay 

With  rapture  calls,  O  come  away ! 

Come  while  the  muse  this  wreath  shall  twine 

Around  that  modest  brow  of  thine. 

O  hither  haste,  and  with  thee  bring 

That  beauty  blooming  like  the  spring; 

Those  graces  that  divinely  shine, 

And  charm  this  ravish'd  breast  of  mine. 


200 


0   KENMURE'S   ON   AND   AWA'5   WILLIE. 


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Words  by  ROBERT  BURNS. 

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1.  O  Kenmure's  on     and     a  -    wa', 

2.  Here's     Kenmure's    health      in     wine, 


Wil-lie,       O  Kenmure's    on    and     a    -    wa, And 

Wil-lie,  Here's      Kenmure's     health       in        wine,     ....       There 


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Kenmure's       lord's       the            bra  -  vest        lord       That           e    -     ver      Gal  -  loway        saw. 
ne'er  was    a       coward       o'           Ken-mure's      blude,      Nor           vet        o'      Gor   -  don's        line. 
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Sue  -  cess 
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to         Kenmure's  band, 
mure's    lads      are     men, 


Wil-lie,      Sue  -  cess  to        Kenmure's        band,     .     .     .    There's 

Wil-lie.       O      Ken    -    mure's    lads    are  men,    .     .      .     Their 


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O    KENMURE'S    ON   AND    AW  A',   WILLIE. 


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no  a        heart     that  fears 

hearts         and    swords    are  me 


a       Whig,    That 
tal       true,      And 


rides      in 
that    their 


Ken-mure's     band, 
foes    shall        ken. 


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They'll  live  or  die  wi'  fame,  Willie, 

They'll  live  or  die  wi'  fame  ; 
But  soon  wi'  sounding  victorie 

May  Kenmure's  lord  come  hame. 
Here's  him  that's  far  awa',  Willie, 

Here's  him  that's  far  awa'; 
And  here's  the  flower  that  I  lo'e  best, 

The  rose  that's  like  the  snaw. 


208 


0  WILLIE  WAS  A  WANTON  WAG. 


Words  by  W.  Walkinshaw. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Wil-liewas    a        wan  -  ton  wag,  The    blythest  lad  that  e'er      I  saw  ;  At      bri-dals  still    he    bore     the  brag,  And 
was     a  man  with -out        a  clag,  His  heart  was  frank  without       a  flaw;  And     ayewhat-e  -  ver   Wil    -   lie  said,     It 


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car-ried  aye  the    gree    a-wa'.      His    doub-let  was     o'    Zet  -  land  shag,  And    vow!  but  Wil  -  lie    he    wasbrawjAnd 
still  was  hal-den    as       a  law.      His    boots  they  were  made  o'    the  jag  ,  When      he  gaed    to    the  wap  -  pin-shaw,Up  - 


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at  his  shouther  hung  a  tag  That  pleased  the  lasses  best     o'  a'. 
-onthegreennanedursthimbrag,Thefient  a  ane  a-mangthem  a'. 


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O  WILLIE  WAS  A  WANTON  WAG. 

m. 

And  was  na  Willie  weel  worth  gowd, 

He  wan  the  love  o'  great  an'  sma'; 
For,  after  he  the  bride  had  kiss'd, 

He  kiss'd  the  lassies  halesale  a'. 
Sae  merrily  round  the  ring  they  row'd, 

When  by  the  hand  he  led  them  a'; 
And  smack  on  smack  on  them  bestow'd 

By  virtue  o'  a  standing  law. 

IV. 

And  was  na  Willie  a  great  loon, 

As  shyre  a  lick  as  e'er  was  seen; 
When  he  danced  wi'  the  lassies  round 

The  bridegroom  spier'd  where  he  had  been. 
Quoth  Willie,  I've  been  at  the  ring, 

Wi'  bobbin',  faith,  my  shanks  are  sair; 
Gae  ca'  your  bride  and  maidens  in, 

For  Willie  he  dow  do  nae  mair. 


Then  rest  ye,  Willie,  I'll  gae  out 

And  for  a  wee  fill  up  the  ring ; 
But  shame  light  on  his  supple  snout, 

He  wanted  Willie's  wanton  fling. 
Then  straight  he  to  the  bride  did  fare, 

Says,  weel's  me  on  your  bonnie  face 
Wi'  bobbin'  Willie's  shanks  are  sair, 

And  I'm  come  out  to  fill  his  place. 

VI. 

Bridegroom,  says  she,  you'll  spoil  the  dance* 

And  at  the  ring  you'll  aye  be  lag, 
Unless,  like  Willie,  you  advance 

(O  Willie  has  a  wanton  leg.) 
For  wit  he  learns  us  a'  to  steer, 

And  foremost  aye  bears  up  the  ring; 
We  will  find  nae  sic  dancin'  here, 

If  we  want  Willie's  wanton  fling. 


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WE'RE   A'   NODDIN'. 


Author  of  Words  Unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  Gude       e'en       to      ye,  kim  -  mer,    And        are         ye       a  -  lane  ?        O         come  and   see  howblytheare    wc,    For 

2.  O  sair       hae      I  fought,  Ea^  and  late        did      I      toil,         My         bair-nies    for      to     feed  and  dead,    My 


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Ja  -   mie   he"s  com'  hame ;     And  O     but   he's    been  lang     a  -  wa'  An'       O      my    heart   was   sair,       As        I 

com  -  fort  was  their  smile  ;  When  I  thocht  on    Ja  -  mie    far       a  -  wa',   An'      o'      his    love      sae  fain,  A 


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When  he  knocket  at  the  door, 

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"  My  daddie  has  come  back" ! 
A  stoun'  gaed  through  my  anxious  breast 

As  thoughtfully  I  sat, 
I  raise — I  gazed — fell  in  his  arms 

And  bursted  out  and  grat. 

Noo  we're  a'  noddin',  &c 


212 


THE   PIPER   0'   DUNDEE. 


Air. — "  Aiken  Drum." 


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pi    -   per    cam'  to  our  town,  To  our  town,     to  our  town,      The 

play'd  "The    wel    -    come  o'er     the    main,"       And      "  Ye'se  be  fou  and  I'se      be     fain,"      And 


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play'd  a     spring,  the          laird        to     please,      A     spring     brent      new    frae     yont       the        seas,         And 

play'd  "The    Kirk,"  he         play  "d  "  The  Queen," "  The  Mul     -    lin     Dhu  "    and  "  Che    -    va     -     lier,"      And 

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wel  -  come      here,"      Sae  sweet,       sae      bon     -    ni      -      lie. 


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It's  some  gat  swords,  and  some  gat  nane, 
And  some  were  dancin'  mad  their  lane; 
And  mony  a  vow  o'  weir  was  ta'en 

That  nicht  at  Amulrie. 
There  was  Tullibardine  and  Burleigh, 
And  Struar,  Keith,  and  Ogilvie, 
And  brave  Carnegie,  wha  but  he, 

The  piper  0'  Dundee  ? 

And  was  nae  he,  &c 


2I4 


THE   ROCK   AND   THE   WEE   PICKLE   TOW. 


Words  by  A.  ROSS. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADH1IX. 


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was        an  auld   wife    had       a      wee     pic  -  klc     tow,     And     she  wad   gae       try        the     spin  -  nin'  o't ;      But 

fa'      them  that      e   -   ver      ad  -  vis'd   me       to      spin,      It     minds  me        o'   the  be  -  gin-  nin'  o't;        I 


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She       spat     on't,    she      flat      on't,   and    tramp'd       on     its         pate, 
But       she's       a      wise     wife  wha     kens  her    ain        weird, 


But         a'  she  could     do        it      wad 

I      thought     ance    a       day       it       wad 


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THE    ROCK   AND    THE   WEE   PICKLE   TOW 


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hae        its    ain    gate ;  At      last      she  sat    doun   on't,   and      bit  -  ter   -   ly      grat.    For    e'er     hae  -  in'       tried 
ne    -  ver    be  spier'd  How    let        ye   the    lowe    tak'    the    rock  by       the  beard, When  ye    gaed    to         .iy 


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The  spinnin',  the  spinnin',  it  gars  my  heart  sab 

To  think  on  the  ill  beginnin'  o't ; 
I  took't  in  my  head  to  make  me  a  wab, 

And  that  was  the  first  beginnin'  o't. 
But  had  I  nine  daughters,  as  I  hae  but  three, 

The  safest  and  soundest  advice  I  wad  gie, 
1  hat  they  wad  frae  spinnin'  aye  keep  their  heads  free, 

For  fear  0'  an  ill  beginnin'  o't. 


IV. 

But  if  they  in  spite  o'  my  counsel  wad  run 

The  dreary  sad  task  o'  the  spinnin'  o't, 
Let  them  find  a  lown  seat  by  the  light  o'  the  sur., 

And  syne  venture  on  the  beginnin'  o't. 
For  wha's  done  as  I've  clone,  alake  and  avow ! 

To  busk  up  a  rock  at  the  cheek  o'  a  lowe ; 
They'll  say  that  I  had  little  wit  in  my  pow, 

O  the  muckle  black  deil  tak'  the  spinnin'  o't. 


316 


THE  BRAES  ABOON  BONAW. 


Voice. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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THE  BRAES  ABOON  BONAW. 


217 


J    E     C 


^ 


1.  Though  Do   -    nald    hae 

2.  When    sim   -   mer    days 


nae      mei  -  kle        frase, 
dead    a'      the       braes 


Wi'  Law   -  land    speech  -  es      fine, 
Wi'  bios    -    som'd  broom   sae      fine, 


las  -  sie,      What 
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kin'     shiel 


comes    frae 
we'll      join 


the    heart, 
the      reel, 


Sae        let 
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III. 

I'll  hunt  the  roe,  the  hart,  the  doe, 
The  Ptarmigan  sae  shy,  lassie  ; 

For  duck  and  drake  I'll  beat  the  brake, 
Nae  want  shall  thee  come  nigh,  lassie. 
Wilt  thou  go,  &c. 


IV. 

For  trout  and  par,  wi'  cannie  care, 

I'll  wily  skim  the  flee,  lassie ; 
Wi'  sic  like  cheer  I'll  please  my  dear, 

Then  come  awa'  wi'  me,  lassie. 
Yes  I'll  go,  my  bonnie  laddie, 

Yes  I'll  go,  my  braw  laddie; 
Come  weel,  come  wae,  I'll  kilt  and  gar 

To  the  braes  aboon  Bonaw,  laddie. 


218 


ROBIN   TAMSON'S   SMIDDY. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


Old  Ballad. 


I 


1: 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill 


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mi    -    ther        ment         my  aulcl         breeks,        An'       wow !        but     they      were      dud  -   dy,  An' 

Ro    -    bin         was  a  wal    -   thy    carle,  An'         had  ae      bon    -    nie      doch  -  ter,  Yet 

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sent 
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me        to 

wad       let 


get      shod 
her       tak' 


our       mare,        At  Ro      -      bin      Tarn 

a        man,    Though       mo      -      ny       lad  J 


son's      smid  -  dy. 
had       socht     her. 


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ROBIN   TAMSON'S    SMIDDY. 


2  so. 


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ver 
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the       lass,       An'      brisk     -      ly       fell 


a 
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hin'. 
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III. 

An'  aye  she  e'ed  my  auld  breeks 

The  time  that  we  sat  crackin'; 
Quo'  I,  my  lass,  ne'er  mind  the  clouts, 

I've  new  anes  for  the  makin'. 
But  gin  ye'll  just  come  hame  wi'  me 

An'  lea'  the  carle  your  faither, 
Ye'se  get  my  breeks  to  keep  in  trim, 

Mysel'  and  a'  thegither. 

IV. 

'Deed  lad,  quo'  she,  your  offer's  fair, 

I'll  really  think  I'll  tak'  it; 
Sae  gang  awa',  get  out  the  mare, 

We'll  baith  slip  on  the  back  o't. 
For  gin  I  wait  my  faither's  time, 

I'll  wait  till  I  be  fifty; 
But  na,  I'll  marry  in  my  prime 

An'  mak'  a  wife  fu'  thrifty, 


Wow,  Robin  was  an  angry  man 

At  losing  o'  his  dochter; 
Thro'  a'  the  kintra  side  he  ran, 

An'  far  an'  near  he  socht  her. 
But  when  he  came  to  our  fire  end, 

An'  fand  us  baith  thegither, 
Quo'  I,  gudeman,  I've  ta'en  your  bairn, 

An'  ye  may  tak'  my  mither. 

VI. 

Auld  Robin  gim'd  and  sheuk  his  pow, 

Gude  sooth,  quo'  he,  you're  merry, 
But  I'll  just  tak'  ye  at  your  word 

An'  end  this  hurry  burry. 
So  Robin  an'  our  auld  gudewife 

Agreed  to  creep  thegither; 
Noo  I  hae  Robin  Tamson's  pet, 

An'  Robin  has  my  mither. 


2*0 


I  AM  A  YOUNG  MAN. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


! 


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Allegretto. 


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1.  I  am       a  young  man,         I       live      wi'  my    mi  -  ther,   A     braw  de  -  cent  kim-mer,     1         trow;   .    .   .        But 

2.  There's  red  -  head-ed    Jen-ny  lives  down    by  our  side,  At    shear- in'  she  does  ding  them     a';     ....    But  her 


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wife, 
bide, 


when 
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I       speak         o'      tak 
ry      face  mi  -  ther     can 


in 
na 


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She        aye        gets      up        in        a         lowe. 
And      her      a  wild     hiz    -    zie    does       ca'.  . 


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Sae       what     do  you  think  o'    me      noo,    kind  sirs,   And  what  do    you  think    I  should    try  ? 


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33 


I   AM   A   YOUNG   MAN. 


221 


3E 


g        m~ 


mi  -  ther   was    dee  -  in',  there's  nae  -  bo  -  dy     liv  -    in'     To       mind      the    horse  and   the      kye. 


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III. 


Yestreen  my  mither  she  pouther'd  my  wig 

As  white  as  the  driven  snaw, 
She  took  an  auld  mutch  an'  shot  in  my  gravat, 

Beside  a  big  breast-pin  an'  a'. 

Sae  what  dae  you  think,  &c. 

IV. 

Noo  gang  awa'  Sandie,  ye're  gaun  to  the  waddin', 

Ye  ken  ye're  to  be  the  best  man, 
And  Bettie  M'Haffie's  to  be  the  best  maid, 

Mak'  up  to  her  noo  like  a  man. 

Sae  what  do  you  think,  &c. 

v. 
I  gacd  to  the  waddin',  and  Betty  was  there, 

And  losh  !  but  she  was  buskit  braw, 
She  had  ribbons  and  lace  a'  set  round  her  face, 
And  necklaces  twa  or  three  raw. 

Sae  what  do  ye  think,  &c. 

VI. 

Sae-  to  please  my  mither,  an'  speak  up  tili  h^r, 

At  last  I  thocht  I  might  try  ; 
So  I  speer'd  at  Betty  if  ever  she  heard 

That  we  had  twa  dizzen  o'  kye. 
Sae  what  do  ye  think  o'  me  noo  kind  sirs, 

And  what  do  you  think  I  should  try5 
But  \vi'  a  toss  o'  her  head  she  answer'd,  "  Indeed 
Wha  cares  for  you  or  your  kye." 


222 


THE  LAMENT  OF  FLORA  MACDONALD. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  JAMES  HOGG. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhili. 


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i.  Far       o   -   ver  yon  hills    of    the      hea-ther     sae    green,    An' 
2.  The  moor-cock  that  crows  on  the    brows   o'      Ben  Connal,  He 


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down    by  the  Cor-rie      that      sings  to     the    sea,    The    bon  -  nie  young  Flo-ra       sat    sigh-ing     her      lane,     The 
kens       o'    his    bed  in        a       sweet  mos-sy   hame  ;  The     ea  -  gle  that  soars  o'er  the     cliffs     o'     Clan  Ronald   Un  - 


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dew  on      her    plaid      an'       the  tear    in 

aw'd  and    un  -  hunt  -  ed        his  ey  -  rie 


her       e'e. 
can     claim ; 


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The        so     -     Ian      can  sleep      on       the 


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THE    LAMENT   OF    FLORA   MACDONALD. 


223 


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as      it         les  -  sen'd    she       sigh'd       an'    she 
there    is        one  whose  hard        fate  I       de 


sung,     "Fare   -  weel 


to     the        lad       I       shall 


plore,       Nor      house,       ha,   nor      hame    in       his 


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ne  er  see      a 
coun-try    has 


-p — ' » 

gain ;        Fare     -     weel  to       my        he     -    ro,     the  gal  -  lant    and       young,     Fare  - 

'he ;  The  con     -     flict       is        past       and     our         name    is       no         more,   There's 


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weel       to    the    lad     I     shall 
nought    left  but    sor-row    for 


ne'er  see    a  -  gain. 
Scotland  an'    me. 


III. 

The  target  is  torn  from  the  arm  of  the  just, 

The  helmet  is  cleft  on  the  brow  of  the  brave  ; 
The  claymore  for  ever  in  darkness  must  rust, 

But  red  is  the  sword  of  the  stranger  and  slave ; 
The  hoof  of  the  horse,  and  the  foot  of  the  proud, 

Have  trode  o'er  the  plumes  on  the  bonnet  of  blue : 
Why  slept  the  red  bolt  in  the  breast  of  the  cloud 

When  tyranny  revell'd  in  blood  of  the  true? 
Fareweel  my  young  hero,  the  gallant  and  good, 

The  crown  of  thy  fathers  is  torn  from  thy  brow 


224 


Voice. 


MARY  MORISON. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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x.      O  Ma    -     ry        at       thy         win  -  dovv    be,        It        is  the  wish'd,      the         trys 

2.     Yes  -  treen      when       to       the         Sten  -    ted  string,  The  dance     gaed  thro'         the         lich 


ted  hour  ;     Those 
tit      ha'  ;        To 


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smiles        and        glan  -  ces 
thee  my         fan  -   cy 


me      see,       That    make       the  mi 

its    wing, —     I         sat,        but         nei 


sers      trea    -      sure    poor, 
ther    heard  nor     saw. 


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How    blythe  -  ly   wad        I  bide     the      stoure,    A      wea     -    ry    slave    frae        sun  to    sun,         Could 

Though  this        was   fair,      and  that     was      braw,     And    you  the  toast       o'  a'  the  town,  I 


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MARY   MORISON. 


22C 


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I  the        rich  re    -     ward  se .  cure,     The       love   -  ly         Ma    -      ry         Mo      -      ri  -  son. 

sigh'd        and        said  a     -    mang        them     a',        Ye        are        na        Ma     -      ry        Mo      -      ri  -  son. 


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in. 

O  Mary,  canst  thou  wreck  his  peace 

Wha  for  thy  sake  wad  gladly  dee 
Or  canst  thou  break  that  heart  of  his, 

Whase  only  faut  is  loving  thee? 
If  love  for  love  thou  wilt  nae  gie, 

At  least  be  pity  to  me  shown, 
A  thocht  ungenial  canna  be 

The  thocht  o'  Mary  Morisoa 


226 


CALLUM   0'   GLEN. 


Words  by  James  Hogg, 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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bayed        in    his        den  ?  The      South  -   ren    blood-hounds      lie       in      ken  -  nel  so        near  me  That 

blush'd      at    the        view ;  The       moon      has     stood      still  on       the    verge  of  the  e  -  ven,  To 


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chief     they    have      slain,      and        of        stay        hath  be  -  reft 
pride       of         my        coun  -  try  is         fall     -      en     for      e 


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III. 

The  sun  in  his  glory  has  look'd  on  our  sorrow, 

The  stars  have  wept  blood  over  hamlet  and  lea; 
O  is  there  no  dayspring  for  Scotland,  no  morrow 

Of  bright  renovation  for  souls  of  the  free  ? 
Yes !  One  above  all  has  beheld  our  devotion, 

Our  valour  and  faith  are  not  hid  from  his  ken ; 
The  day  is  abiding  of  stern  retribution 

On  all  the  proud  foemen  of  Callum  0'  Glen. 


228 


Voice. 


PlAKO- 
FORTE. 


Old  Ballad. 


THE  BONNIE  HOUSE  0'  AIRLIE. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  It      fell        on      a   day,    and     a     bon  -  nie  summer  day,  When  the  com      grew  ripe      and         yel     -     low,        That 

2.  The    la     -    dy        look'd  o'er  her    win     -    dow  sae  hie,  And  oh  !        but      she      look'd     wea  ry,         And 


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Ar    -    gyll   Come  to     plun  -  der    the  bon-  nie  house  o' 


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The        Duke  o'    Montrose 

Come        down,       come        down, 


has      written        to    Ar  -  gyll        To 
Lady   Mar-ga    -  ret,  he    says,    Come 


come     in    the    morn 
down     and  kiss 


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THE    BONNIE   HOUSE   O'   AIRLIE 


229 


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in      his      men 
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by      the        back 
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o'      Dun-keld,         To 
day      -     light,        I'll     no 


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plun  -  der  the  bon  -  nie  house  o'        Air       -        lie. 
leave      a  stand-  in'  stane  in        Air       -        lie. 


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III. 

I  wadna  kiss  thee,  great  Argyll, 

I  wadna  kiss  thee  fairly; 
I  wadna  kiss  thee,  great  Argyll, 

Gin  you  shouldna  leave  a  standin'  stane  in  Airlie. 
He  has  ta'en  her  by  the  middle  sae  sma', 

Says,  Lady,  where  is  your  dowry  ? 
It's  up  and  down  the  bonnie  burnside, 

Amang  the  planting  o'  Airlie. 

IV. 

They  sought  it  up,  they  sought  it  down, 

They  sought  it  late  and  early, 
And  found  it  in  the  bonnie  balm-tree 

That  shines  on  the  bowling-green  o'  Airlie. 
He  has  ta'en  her  by  the  left  shoulder, 

And  oh  !  but  she  grat  sairly, 
And  led  her  down  to  yon  green  bank 

Till  he  plunder'd  the  bonnie  house  o'  ^irb'e. 


O  it's  I  ha'e  seven  braw  sons,  she  says, 

And  the  youngest  ne'er  saw  his  daddie; 
And  although  I  had  as  mony  mair 

I  wad  gie  them  a'  to  Charlie. 
But  gin  my  lord  had  been  at  hame 

As  this  night  he  is  wi'  Charlie, 
There  durst  na  a  Campbell  in  a'  the  wes  I 

Ha'e  plunder'd  the  bonnie  house  o'  Airlit 


2^0 


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CAN  YE  LOE  ME  WEEL,  LASSIE. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GlEADHILL. 


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To       this  heart  then     swift  -  ly       flee ;  There      ye  aye   shall        dwell,         las  -  sie,     Mair      than  a'     this 


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world     to    me. 


i.  When      the  moonbeams  shine    sae  clear,  At       that  hour    by 

2.  Where      the  bur  -  nie     flows,  lassie,         Gent   -   ly     by      the 


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lo  -  vers      blest ;  At       the  gloam-in',      las  -  sie      dear,    Haste      to    meet    this      faith  -  ful      breast, 

moun-tain's     side,       Where    the  wild  flow'rs  grow,  lassie,     Wa  -  ter'd    by      the    stream-let's      tide. 


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HI. 


As  the  harebell  blossoms  shine 
O'er  yon  bleak  and  barren  brae, 

Let  that  brilliant  eye  of  thine 
Guide  me  on  my  lonely  way. 

Can  ye  loe  me  weel,  lassie,  &c. 


0!  ARE  YE  SLEEPING,  MAGGIE? 


231 


Words  by  Robert  Tannahill. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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1.  Mirk  and  rai-  ny     is       the  night, 

2.  Fearfu'  soughs  theboortreebank,The 


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No         a  star'n     in     a'      the  car-ry;     Lightnings  gleam  athwart     the    lift,     And    winds  drive      wi' win-ter's     fu-ry. 
rif  -  ted  wood  roars  wild  and  dreary ;     Loud   the      ir  -  on     yett    does  clank,  And     cry  o'  how  -  lets  mak's  me    eerie. 


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roar  -  ing   o'er    the   war-lock     crai-gie. 


Aboon  my  breath  I  daurna  speak, 

For  fear  I  rouse  your  waukrife  daddie  ; 

Cauld's  the  blast  upon  my  cheek, 
O  rise,  rise,  my  bonnie  lady! 

O  are  ye  sleepin',  Maggie,  &c. 


She  op't  the  door,  she  let  him  in ; 

He  cuist  aside  his  dreepin'  plaidie  ; 
Blaw  your  warst  ye  rain  an'  win', 

Since  Maggie  now  I'm  in  aside  ye. 


Now  since  ye're  wakin',  Maggie ! 
Now  since  ye're  wakin',  Maggie! 
What  care  I  for  howlets'  cry, 
For  boortree  bank  or  warlock  craigie. 


23* 


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HOW  BLYTHELY  THE  PIPE. 

/4?> — "  Kinloch  of  Kinloch".  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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^         irHow      blythe   -  ly      the      pipe  thro'     Glen  -   ly  -  on        was  sound  -  ing,     At     morn     when  the  clans    to        the 
2.  Poor         Flo    -    ra       a  -  while     on        his        bo-som        hung    sob  -bing,     But      not        to       al  -  lure  him    from 


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mer  -  ry         dance  hied  ;         And 
bat  -  tie  a  -  larms  ;        O 


gay       were    the        love  notes       o'er    hearts  fond    -    ly     bound- ing,     When 
heed        not,   she      mur-mur'd,      this      poor  heart's  wild  throb  -  bing,'Twould 


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Ron  -  aid        woo'd    Flo   -  ra         and  made .  her        his      bride.  But  war's  ban-ner      stream  -  ing        soon 

break    ere     'twould  woo    thee      from  fame       to  my       arms.  Bless, bless  thee, my      dear  -     est,       when 

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HOW    BLYTHELY   THE   PIPE. 


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chang'd  their        fond  dream-ing, 
dan-ger  is      near  -  est, 


The       bat  -  tie 
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cry        e  -  cho'd 
those    tears  my 


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clay-mores   were    glanc  -  ing,     and         war  -  steeds  were    pranc  -  ing,     Up      Ron  -  aid  to 

war  -  steeds    are    pranc  -  ing,      and       clay  -  mores    are     glanc  -  ing,      I'll         con-quer  or 


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All  was  hush'd  on  the  hill  where  love  tarried  despairing, 

With  her  bridesmaids  still  deck'd  in  their  gay  bridal  gear ; 
And  she  wept  as  she  saw  them  fresh  garlands  preparing 

That  might  laurel  love's  brow,  or  be  strewed  o'er  his  bier. 
But  cheer,  thee,  dear  maiden,  each  wild  breeze  is  laden 

With  victory's  slogan  from  mountain  and  grove  ; 
Where  war-steeds  were  prancing,  and  claymores  were  glancing, 

Lord  Ronald  had  conquered  for  home  and  for  love. 


23  + 


THE  MARRIED  MAN'S  LAMENT. 


Words  bv  ROBERT  NlCOLL. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  I     ance   was     a    wan-  ter      as     hap  -  py's    a    bee:      I      med-dled  wi'  nane,  an' nane   med-dled  wi'    me;        I 

2.  Fu1    soun  may  she  sleep,    a    douce  wo  -  man  was    she,  Wi'her  wheel,  and  her  cat,  and  her    cup-  pie     o'     tea;      My 


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whiles  had     a    crack   o'er    a       cog       o'  gude    yill,  Whiles  a    bick  -  er        o'    swats,  whiles  a      heart-heaz-  ing    gill, 
in  -  gle   she    keep  -  it     as      trig      as      a    preen,  And  she       ne'er     speer'd  ques-tions  as    where  hae     ye    been  ? 

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And    I    aye   had    a    groat,    if      I    had  -  na      a  pound,  On  this  earth  there  was  nane  meikle  hap  -  pi  -  ei  found.) 
As      what  were  ye     do  -  ing  ?  or  wha  was   ye    wi'  ?  We  were  hap  -  py  the-gi  -  ther,  my    mi  -  ther  and  me. )         m^ 


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THE   MARRIED   MAN'S    LAMENT 


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auld       mi  -  ther    dee'd        in      the      year       audi  -  ty  -  nine,        And     I        ne'er       hae    had     peace        in     the 


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ne'er    hae  had     peace      in      the        world         sin     syne. 


III. 

When  mither  was  gane  for  a  while  I  was  wae, 
But  a  young  chap  was  I,  and  a  wife  I  maun  hae  ; 
A  wife  I  soon  got,  and  I  aye  hae  her  yet, 
An'  the  folks  think  thegither  we're  unco  weel  fit ; 
But  my  ain  mind  hae  I,  tho'  I  daurna  speak  o't, 
For  mair  than  her  gallop,  I  like  my  ain  trot. 
But  my  auld  mither,  &c. 


IV. 

When  I  wi'  a  crony  am  taking  a  drop, 
She'll  yammer  an'  ca'  me  an  auld  drucken  sot ; 
If  an  hour  I  bide  out  she  greets  and  she  yowls, 
And  bans  a'  gude  fellows,  baith  bodies  and  souls ; 
And  yet  what  a  care  she  has  o'  her  gudeman, 
You'd  think  I  was  doated — I  canna  but  ban. 
But  my  auld  mither,  &c. 


v. 


Now  my  gilpie  young  dochters  are  lookin'  for  men, 
And  I'll  be  a  grandsire  or  ever  I  ken  ; 
The  laddies  are  thinking  on  ruling  the  roast, 
Their  faither,  puir  body,'s  as  deaf  as  a  post, 
But  he  sees  their  upsetting  sae  crouse  and  sae  bauld, 
O  why  did  I  marry,  and  wherefore  grow  auld. 
But  my  auld  mither,  &c. 


236 


WANDERING  WILLIE. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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there  a    -   wa',      wan      -      der    -  in'       Wil    -  lie, 

storms  in      the        cave  of      your     slum  -  bers, 


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winds  blew 
he's    faith 


loud    and    cauld 
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at         our  part 

nae       his  Nan 


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nie,     Flow    still      be  - 


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Wil      -      lie  brought  tears         in  my    e'e ; 

tween  us      thou    wide        roar    -     ing  main ; 


Wei 
May       I 


come 


now 
never 


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I  ne  -   ver      trow    it, 


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238 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


HAIL  TO  THE  CHIEF! 


Words  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i.  Hail      to   the  chief  who   in      tri-umph    ad  -   van    -   ces  !  Hon-our'd  andbless'd  be   the       e  -  vergreen  pine, 

2.  Ours       is    no     sap  -  ling  chance  sown  by    the    foun   -   tain,  Bloom-ing    at    Bel-  tane,  in      win  -  ter    to   fade;  When  the 


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Long  may  the  tree       in  his     ban  -ner    that     glan    -   ces     Flou-rish   the  shel-ter       and  grace      of    our   line! 
whirl-wind  has  stript     ev'  -ry      leaf    on      the   mountain, The  more  shall  clan   Al-pine      ex   -    ult       in    her  shade. 

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Heav'n     send    it       hap    -    py    dew,     Earth  lend 
Moor'd       in     the      rift     -    ed    rock,    Proof     to 


it     sap  a  -  new,       Gai 

the    tern  -   pest  shock  ;  Firm 


ly      to     bour  -    geon,  and 
er     he     roots        him    the 


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HAIL   TO   THE   CHIEF! 


239 


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broad  -  ly 
ru  -  der 


to      grow  ; 
it     blows  1 


While 
Mon  -  teith 

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ev'  -  ry      High 
and  Bread  -  al    - 


land  glen     Sends    our    shout  back 
bin'  then  E    -  cho      his    praise 


-en- 


a  -  gain, 
a  -  gain, 


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Rode  -  rich  Vich   Al  -  pine  dhu 
Rode  -  rich  Vich   Al  -  pine  dhu 


ho! 

ho! 

— ^ 


ic 
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" * ^— 

roe !  7 

,  f  Rode  -  rich!  Rode  -  rich!  Rode  -   rich  !  Rode   -  rich! 

-    roe    > 


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in. 

Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands! 
Stretch  to  your  oars  for  the  evergreen  pine  ! 

O  that  the  rosebud  that  graces  yon  island 

Were  wreath'd  in  a  garland  around  him  to  twine! 
O  that  some  seedling  gem, 
Worthy  such  noble  stem, 

Honour'd  and  bless'd  in  their  shadow  might  grow  ! 
Loud  should  Clan  Alpine  then 
Ring  from  her  deepmost  glen 
Roderich  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  &c 


240 


Voice. 


Piano  - 
Forte. 


KIND  ROBIN  LOES  ME. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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ly       joe,       For       Ro    -    bin     has        the       heart 
of     rings,  Speak       of    gloves     and        kiss 


( 


1.  Ro   -    bin        is        my        on 

2.  They  speak  of  nap  -  kins,  speak 


to       loe,         So 

ing  strings,    And 


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t0  his       suit  I         mean  to        bow,  Be    -     cause       I        ken 

name         a       thou    -    sand  bon   -      nie    things,        And  ca'      them     signs 


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KIND    ROBIN   LOES   ME. 


241 


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bir       -       ken        bow'r,     Where       first 
vel      -       vet  fog,  To        gifts 


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ken'd      that        Ro      -     bin  loed  me. 

-    cause        I  ken  he  loes  me. 


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III. 

He's  tall  and  soncy,  frank  and  free, 
Loed  by  a'  and  dear  to  me  ; 
Wi'  him  I'd  live,  wi'  him  I'd  dee, 

Because  my  Robin  loes  me  ! 
My  sister  Mary  said  to  me 
Our  courtship  but  a  joke  wad  be, 
And  I  or  lang  be  made  to  see 

That  Robin  did  na  loe  me. 


IV. 

But  little  kens  she  what  has  been 
Me  and  my  honest  Rob  between ; 
And  in  his  wooing,  O  sae  keen, 

Kind  Kobin  is  that  loes  me  I 
Then  fly  ye  lazy  hours  away,  ^ 

And  hasten  on  the  happy  day, 
When  "Join  your  hands,"  Mess  John  shall  say. 

And  mak'  him  mine  that  loes  me. 


242 


MY   MITHER'S   AYE   GLOWRIN'   OWRE   ME. 


Words  by  Allan  Ramsay. 
± 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


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My       mi  -  ther's  aye  glow       -       rin'     owre 


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me,         Though   she    did  the  same  be  -  fore 


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1.  Right  fain  would  I     tak'  your 

2.  For  though  my  father        has 


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plen      -      ty         Of         sil-ver    and  plenish  -   in'      dain        -        ty,      Yet 

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and    wyte  your  poor  Kate,     When   -e'er    you  keek  inyourtoom      cof 
to      twine  wi'    his  gear,        And        sae    we  had  need    to      be       ten 


San  -  dy  you'll  fret 
he's    un  -  co  sweir 


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in. 

Tutor  my  parents  wi'  caution, 
Be  wylie  in  ilka  motion; 
Brag  weel  o'  your  land, 
And  there's  my  leal  hand ; 
Win  them,  I'll  be  at  your  devotioo. 
My  mither's  aye  glowrin',  &£. 


244 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


BONNIE  WOOD   OF   CRAIGIELEA. 


Words  by  Robert  Tannahill. 


SONG  AND   CHORUS. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i.  The  broom,    the  brier,  the     bir  -  ken  bush,     Bloom  bon-nie  o'er         thy        flow 

2.    Far    ben        thy  dark  green  plan  -  tin's  shade,      The   cush  -at  croo    -   dies  am' 


'ry  lea ; 

rous     -     ly ; 


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a'        the  sweets    that      ane      can    wish  Frae 

ma    -    vis  down     thy    bugh  -  ted   glade         Gars 


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Segue  Chorus. 


BONNIE   WOOD   OF   CRAIGIELEA. 


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Thou       bon  -  nie  wood    of      Crai  -  gie  -  lea,  Thou    bon  -  nie    wood      of        Crai  -  gie  -  lea,       Near 


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iii. 

Awa'  ye  thoughtless,  murd'ring  gang, 
Wha  tear  the  nestlings  ere  they  flee; 

They'll  sing  you  yet  a  canty  sang, 
Then  O  in  pity  let  them  be! 
Thou  bonnie  wood,  &c. 


IV. 

When  winter  blaws  in  sleety  show'rs, 
Frae  aff  the  norlan'  hills  sae  hie, 

lie  lightly  skiffs  thy  bonnie  bow'rs, 
As  laith  to  harm  a  flow'r  as  thee. 
Thou  bonnie  wood,  &c. 


Though  fate  should  drag  me  south  the  line, 

Or  o'er  the  wide  Atlantic  sea, 
The  happy  hours  I'll  ever  min' 

That  I  in  youth  hae  spent  in  thee. 
Thou  bonnie  wood,  &o 


346 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


MUIRLAND    WILLIE, 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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hear  -  ken,  and      I  will  tell      you  how    Young   Muir    -    land  Wil  -  lie     cam'        here        to     woo ;    Tho' 

his  grey    yade  as  he         did  ride,     Wi'       dirk  and    pis    -     -    tol  by        his    side,      He 


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kle        mirth      and      glee, 


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in. 

Gudeman,  quoth  he,  be  ye  within  ? 
I'm  come  your  dochter's  love  to  win  ; 
I  care  na  for  making  meikle  din, 

What  answer  gie  ye  me  ? 
Now  wooer,  quoth  he,  would  ye  light  doun, 
I'll  gie  ye  my  dochter's  love  to  win. 

With  a  fal,  da,  ra,  &c. 

IV. 

Now  wooer,  sin'  ye  are  lighted  down, 
Where  do  ye  won  on  in  what  town  ? 
I  think  my  dochter  winna  gloom 

On  sic  a  lad  as  ye. 
The  wooer  he  stepp'd  up  the  house, 
And  wow  but  he  was  wondrous  crouse. 

With  a  fal,  da,  ra,  &c. 

v. 

The  maid  put  on  her  kirtle  brown, 
She  was  the  brawest  in  a'  the  town ; 
I  wat  on  him  she  didna  gloom, 

But  blinkit  bonnilie. 
The  lover  he  stended  up  in  haste, 
And  gript  her  hard  aboot  the  waist. 

With  a  fal,  da,  ra,  &c. 

VI. 

The  maiden  blush'd  and  bing'd  fu'  law, 
She  hadna  will  to  say  him  na; 
But  to  her  daddie  she  left  it  a', 

As  they  twa  could  agree. 
The  lover  gied  her  the  tither  kiss, 
Syne  ran  to  her  daddie  and  tell'd  him  this. 

With  a  fal,  da,  ra,  &c. 

VII. 

The  bridal  day  it  came  to  pass 

Wi'  mony  a  blythesome  lad  and  lass; 

But  siccan  a  day  there  never  was, 

Sic  mirth  was  never  seen. 
The  winsome  couple  straked  hands, 
Mess  John  tied  up  the  marriage  bands. 

With  a  fal,  da,  ra,  &c. 


248 


OH   ALLISTER  MACALLISTER. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 


Voice. 


SEE 


3 


Animato. 


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1.  Oh      Al   - 

2.  The     mil  - 

lis    - 
ler 

ter 
Rab 

s 

Mac  - 
was 

al     - 
fid    - 

lis    - 
gin' 

ter, 
fain 

Your 
To 

chan    - 
dance 

ter 
the 

sets 
High- 

US 

land 

a' 
fling 

a   - 
his 

stir, 
lane  ; 

Get 
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< 

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,                                                                        1 

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and      blaw 
wi'      might 


9 " 

High   -  land 
ne    -    ver 


out 
lap 


I 


L-S: 


your      pipes 
and      danc'd 


wi'       birr, 

and     main, 


We'll     dance 
The        like 


the 
was 


fling, 
seen. 


Now 
As 


TU- 
BE 


Jj_ 


£ 


Al  -  lis 

round     a 


ter  has    tun'd       his    pipes,      And,      thrang        as      bum    -  bees    frae        their  bykes,      The 

bout         the     ring        he    whuds,      He        cracks       his  thumbs    and  shakes       his    duds,      The 


4- 


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OH    ALLISTER    MACALLISTER. 
^    ■        » 


S7\ 


^ 


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and       lass     -      es        loup  the      dykes,        An'         ga    -    ther  on  the     green.  -, 

flew      frae  his        tail  in        cluds,      And      blind    -    ed  a'  their      een.    J 

S7S 


249 


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to  your  bags  and  blaw  wi' birr,  We'll  dance  the  High-land  fling. 


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III. 

Neist  rackle-handed  smithy  Jock, 

A'  blacken'd  owre  wi'  coom  and  smoke, 

Wi'  bletherin',  bleer-e'ed  Bess  did  yoke, 

That  harum  scarum  quean. 
He  shook  his  doublet  in  the  wind, 
His  feet  like  hammers  strak  the  grund, 
The  very  moudiwarts  were  stunn'd, 

Nor  kenn'd  what  it  could  mean. 

Oh  Allister  Macallister,  &c. 

IV. 

Now  Allister  has  done  his  best, 
And  weary  stumps  are  needin'  rest, 
Besides  wi'  drouth  they're  sair  distressed 

Wi'  dancin'  sae,  I  ween. 
I  trow  the  gauntrees  got  a  lift, 
An'  round  the  bickers  flew  like  drift, 
An'  Allister  that  very  nicht 

Could  scarcely  stand  his  lane. 

Oh  Allister  Macallister,  &c. 


250 


1 


BEE 


TWA   BONNIE   MAIDENS. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


I 


Allegretto. 


m 


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i.  There 
2.  There 

are 

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twa 
Flo 

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bon-nie 
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mai  - 

ho    - 

S    V 

dens,  and 
ney,  sae 

three 
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bon 
and 

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cam'       owre     the    main,      Wi'      the      wind  for  their    way        and     the 

hand  -   some   with  -  al,  Put     the       one  for    my    king        and     the 


I 


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cor  -  ry       for    their  hame,       And 
o  -  ther     for      my  queen,       And 


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they    are    dear  -  ly 
they    are    dear  -  ly 


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wel    -  come    to     Skye 
wel    -  come    to     Skye 


I 


a  -    gain.     Come  a  -  long, 
a   -    gain.     Come   a    -   long, 

I 


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come      a 


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TWA    BONNIE    MAIDENS. 


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boa  -  tie    and  your  song,  My        ain       bon  -  nie 

boa  -  tie    and  your  song,  My        ain       bon  -  nie 


mai  -  dens,    my       twa 
mai  -  dens,    my       twa 


bon  -  nie     mai-dens,  For    the 
bon  -  nie     mai-dens,  For    the 


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night  it        is    dark,      and     the       red       coat      is    gone, 

La        -       dy    Mac  -  ou    -   lain,    she     dwell  -  eth     her  lane, 


And       ye      are   'dear  -  ly  wel  -   come    to 

And  she'll  wel     -     come  you        dear    -    ly       to 


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III. 

Her  arm  it  is  strong,  and  her  petticoat  is  long, 

My  ain  bonnie  maidens,  my  twa  bonnie  maidens; 
The  sea  moulit's  nest  I  will  watch  o'er  the  main, 

And  ye  are  bravely  welcome  to  Skye  again. 
Come  along,  come  along  wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song, 

My  ain  bonnie  maidens,  my  twa  bonnie  maidens; 
Ar.d  saft  sail  ye  rest  where  the  heather  it  grows  best, 

And  ye  are  dearly  welcome  to  Skye  again. 


IV. 

There's  a  wind  on  the  tree  and  a  ship  on  the  sea, 

My  ain  bonnie  maidens,  my  twa  bonnie  maidens; 
Your  cradle  I'll  rock  on  the  lea  of  the  rock,       ' 

And  ye'll  aye  be  welcome  to  Skye  again. 
Come  along,  come  along  wi'  your  boatie  and  your  song, 

My  ain  bonnie  maidens,  my  twa  bonnie  maidens; 
Mair  sound  sail  ye  sleep  as  ye  rock  o'er  the  deep, 

And  ye'll  aye  be  welcome  to  Skye  again. 


252 


0  NANNY  WILT  THOU  GANG  WI'  ME? 


VOICE. 


Words  by  Bishop  Percy. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 


^s 


m 


*j 


Andante. 


i.    O 

2.    O 


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r^i.:  JJ"^ 


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Nan 
Nan 


^>   j 


- '  *-^ 


t~. 9 #-r 

Nor      sigh        to  leave      the      flaun  -  ting  town  ?      Can 
Wilt     thou       not  cast        a        wish     be  -  hind  ?      Say 


ny       wilt  thou        gang  wi'        me, 

ny     when       thou'rt        far  a    -    way 


X 


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si     -    lent     glens 
;anst       thou       face 


have     charms    for 
the      scorch  -  insr 


thee, 
ray, 


The   low  -  ly      cot  and 

Nor  shrink  be  -  fore  the 


rus    -     set     gown  ?  No 

win     -    try      wind  ?  O 


I 


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Ion    -    ger  dress'd      in 
can       that  soft         and 


sil     -    ken  sheen, 
gen    -    tie  mien 


No    Ion 
Extremes 


^^= 


i=fc 


ger    deck'd 
of       hard 


mf 


hv 


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wi'  jew  -  els  rare, 

ships      learn      to  bear? 

Kb.         . 

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O  NANNY  WILT  THOU  GANG  "WT  ME? 


2  53 


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Say  cans't  thou  quit         each  court  -  ly    scene     Where  thou 

Nor    sad      re-gret         each         court  -  ly    scene     Where  thou 


wert     fair     -     est         of 
wert     fair    -     est        of 


7& 


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T 


the     fair  ? 
the     fair  ? 
/7\ 


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the  fair, 
the  fair 


Say  canst  thou  quit       each         court    -  ly  scene  Where  thou         wert  fair 
Nor    sad    re  -  gret       each         court    -  ly  scene  Where  thou         wert  fair 


est 
est 


of 
of 


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thou 


.    .   wert  fair-est,        where      thou 


2EE35 


1 — 1- 


.    wert    fair-est, 

n=n — r^ 


where 


wert    fair 


4>    *    >- 


f 


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1- — -CJ 


V 


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of 


the 


fair. 


^     »' 


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III. 

O  Nanny  canst  thou  love  so  true, 

Through  perils  keen  wi'  me  to  go  ? 
Or  when  thy  swain  mishap  shall  rue 

To  share  wi'  him  the  pang  of  woe  ? 
Say,  should  disease  or  pain  befall, 

Wilt  thou  assume  the  nurse's  care  ? 
Nor  wistful,  those  gay  scenes  recall, 

Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 


IV. 

And  when  at  last  thy  love  shall  die 

Wilt  thou  receive  his  parting  breath  ? 
Wilt  thou  repress  each  struggling  sigh, 

And  cheer  with  smiles  the  bed  of  death? 
And  wilt  thou  o'er  his  breathless  clay 

Strew  flowers  and  drop  the  tender  tear? 
Nor  then  regret  those  scenes  so  gay 

Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 


354 


i 


■fr-p 


TAK'   YOUR   AULD   CLOAK   ABOUT   YE. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadihll- 


-I— -5~ 


Voice. 


9 


Andantino. 


In 
My 


:3: 


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^^ 


^^iE 


Piano- 
Forte. 


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-fe- 


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£=£ 


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IP-     H«T     J 


win   -   ter  when       the        rain  rain'd  cauld, 
Crum  -  mie      is  a  use    -  fu'     cow, 


And    frost         and  snaw  on 

An'       she  is  come  o' 


il     -    ka    hill ;  And 

a        gude  kin';  Aft 


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Bo  -  reas,    wi        his 
has      she    wet       the 

— I 1 — 


blast    sae  bauld, 
hair  -  nies'  mou', 


r     '    I* 

Was  threat  -  'nin'       a' 

An'        I  am    laith 


tt*  •     SJ 


our  kye  to      kill, 

that         she      should  tyne. 


i 


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ii 


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Then        Bell        my      wife  wha 

Get  up        gude  -  man,  it 


_L 


-&>- 


lo'es         nae    strife,  She  said  to      me 

is  fu'      time,  The  sun        shines  in 


=i= 


right 
the 


r— w 


t—  * 


TAK'  YOUR  AULD  CLOAK  ABOUT  YE. 


255 


I 


s?s 


idfe: 


^J=r- 


s 


-t*— 


tdt 


has      -     ti     -    lie, 
lift  sae       hie ; 


Get 

Sloth 


up         gude  -  man, 
ne     -    ver    made 


save 
a 


Crum-mie's 
gra  -  cious 

is 


life, 
end, 


-J- 


An' 
Gae 


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fc=b: 


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dfc 


-p — 


tak' 
tak' 


your   auld 
your    auld 


cloak 
cloak 


a 
a 


bout 
bout 


ye. 
ye- 


-z*- 


1 


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iii. 

He. — My  cloak  was  ance  a  gude  grey  cloak, 

When  it  was  fitting  for  my  wear; 
But  now  it's  scanty  worth  a  groat, 

For  I  hae  worn't  this  thretty  year. 
Let's  spend  the  gear  that  we  hae  won, 

We  little  ken  the  day  we'll  dee; 
Then  I'll  be  proud,  sin'  I  hae  sworn 

To  hae  a  new  cloak  about  me. 

IV. 

She. — In  days  when  gude  King  Robert  rang, 

His  trews  they  cost  but  half-a-crown; 
He  said  they  were  a  groat  owre  dear, 

And  ca'd  the  tailor  thief  and  loon. 
He  was  the  king  that  wore  the  crown, 

An'  thou'rt  a  man  of  laigh  degree; 
It's  pride  puts  a'  the  country  doun, 

Sae  tak  your  auld  cloak  about  ye. 


V. 

He. — Ilka  land  has  its  ain  lauch, 

Ilk  kind  o'  corn  has  its  ain  hool; 
I  think  the  world  has  a'  gane  wrang, 

When  ilka  wife  her  man  maun  rule. 
Do  ye  no  see  Rob,  Jock,  and  Hab, 

How  they  are  girded  gallantlie; 
While  I  sit  hurkling  i'  the  ase  ? 

I'll  hae  a  new  cloak  about  me. 

VI. 

She.— Gudeman,  I  wat  it's  thretty  year 

Sin'  we  did  ane  anither  ken; 
An'  we  hae  had  atween  us  twa 

Of  lads  an'  bonnie  lasses  ten. 
Now  they  are  women  grown  an'  men, 

I  wish  an'  pray  weel  may  they  be, 
An'  if  you'd  prove  a  gude  husband, 

E'en  tak  your  auld  cloak  about  ye. 


VII. 


He.— Bell,  my  wife,  she  lo'es  nae  strife, 

But  she  wad  guide  me  if  she  can; 
An'  to  maintain  an  easy  life 

I  aft  maun  yield,  though  I'm  gudeman. 
Nocht's  to  be  won  at  woman's  han', 

Unless  ye  gie  her  a'  the  plea; 
Then  I'll  leave  aff  where  I  began 

An1  tak  my  auld  cloak  about  me. 


HE'S  OWRE  THE  HILLS. 

Author  of  Words  unknown.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHltfc. 


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daur    -    na    name ;   He's        owre        the    hills 


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2.  The      Whigs      may     scoff,        the 


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fight        for    him,       My 
Whigs      may  jeer,       But 


bri   -  thers    win    -    na 
ah !       that    love       maun 


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bide       at  hame ;     My         mi   -    ther    greets       and 
be         sin  -  cere    Which     still      keeps    true         what 

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His  right  these  hills,  his  right  these  plains, 
O'er  Highland  hearts  secure  he  reigns; 
What  lads  e'er  did  our  lads  will  do; 
Were  I  a  lad  I'd  follow  him  too. 

He's  owre  the  hills,  &c. 


IV. 

Sae  noble  a  look,  sae  princely  an  air, 
Sae  gallant  and  bold,  sae  young  and  sac  fair  ; 
Oh  did  you  but  see  him  ye'd  do  as  ye've  done  ; 
Hoar  him  but  ance  to  his  standard  you'll  run. 
He's  owre  the  hills,  &c. 


258 


Voice. 


WILLIE  WF  HIS  WIG  AJEE. 


Words  by  William  Chalmers. 


Tiano- 
Forte. 


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Music  Composed  and 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i .  Oh       saw    ye  Wil-lie     frae  the  west  ?  Oh 
2.  To      hear  him  sing  a      can  -  ty  air,     He 


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saw      ye   Wil  ■ 
lilts        it    o'er 


•lie        in  his  glee?  Oh     saw 
sae  charm-ing  -  ly  That      in 


ye 
a 


Wil-lie 
mo-ment 


frae 
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the  west,  When  he    had  got  his  wig 
flies  care, When  Wil  -  lie  gets  his  wig 


a -jee? There's 
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"  Scots  wha  hae  wi'  Wal 
drones  croon  o'er     a    win 


lace  bled  "He  towers  it    up      in     sic        a      key,  Oh  saw        ye  Wil-lie,      heart  -  ty   lad,  When 
-    ter  night,  A      fig      for  them  whate'er  they      be,  For      I     could  sit  till      morn  -  ing  light  Wi' 

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he      had  got 

Wil    -  lie     and 

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a  - jee  ? 
a  -  jee. 

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III. 

At  kirk  on  Sundays  sic  a  change 

Comes  o'er  his  wig  and  mou'  and  e'e; 
Sae  douce,  you'd  think  a  cannon  ba' 

Wad  scarce  ca'  Willie's  wig  a-jee. 
But  when  on  Mondays  he  begins 

And  rants  and  roars  continually 
Till  ilk  owk's  end,  the  very  weans 

Gang  daft  when  Willie's  wig's  a-jee. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte, 


0   CHARLIE   IS   MY   DARLING. 


2S9 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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Andanthio. 


O  Charlie  is  my  darling,  my  darling,     mydar-ling,     O 


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Char-lie   is     my  dar  -  ling,  The  young  Che  -  va-lier. 


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1.  'Twas         on  a       Mon    -  day 

2.  As  he       cam'  march  -  in' 


-*" > ^ 

morn      -      ing,     Right       ear     -     ly  in  the 

up     the       street,    The      pipes     play'd    loud        and 


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Char    -     lie      cam'        to         our 
a'  the       folk       cam'     runnin'  . 


I 


town,       The         young    .     .  Che    -     -  va    -    -    lier. 

out,         To  meet        the        Che     -     -  va    -    -    lier. 


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Wi'  Highland  bonnets  on  their  heads, 
And  claymores  long  and  clear, 

They  cam'  to  fight  for  Scotland's  right 
And  the  young  Chevalier. 

O  Charlie  is,  &c. 


IV. 


Now  haud  awa',  ye  Lowland  lads, 
And  court  nae  lasses  here, 

The  Highland  men  are  back  again 
Wi'  the  young  Chevalier. 

O  Charlie  is,  &c. 


It's  up  yon  heath'ry  mountain, 
And  down  yon  scroggy  glen, 

We  daurna  gang  a-milkin' 
For  Charlie  and  his  men. 

O  Charlie  is,  &c. 


260 


THE  THORN   TREE. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  from  TaWs  Magazine,  Sept.  1838. 


Music  Composed  and 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  I    watch'd 

2.  I    clasp'd 


the   moon 
my     las 


blink 
sie 


ower 
to 


the 
my 


hill, 
heart, 


And 
And 


oh 
vow'd 


she 
my 


glin    -     tit 
love     should 


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bon  -  ni  -  lie,      bon   -   ni  -  lie,  Then     met  my     lass  when 

las  -  ting  be,        las  -  ting  be,     And    wussed  ilk        ill  to 


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low        the        spread  -   ing        thorn      tree. 
I  for     -     got  the        thorn       tree. 


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Oh       for    the  thorn  tree,    the     fair,   the  spreading  thorn    tree, 
Oh      for    the  thorn  tree,    the    fresh,  the  scented  thorn    tree, 


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THE   THORN   TREE. 


261 


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Oh      for    the  thorn  tree,  the  fair,   the  spreading  thorn  tree,  The  flame    o'  love  lovves  bon  -  ni  -  lie,lowes  bon  -  ni  -  lie,     a  - 
Oh      for    the  thorn  tree,  the  fresh,  the  scented    thorn  tree,  I'll      e    -   ver  mind wi'blythesome  glee, wi'blythesomeglee.my 

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neath 
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spread  -  ing        thorn      tree, 
and       the        thorn      tree. 


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We  met  beneath  the  rising  moon; 

She  bedded  maist  as  soon  as  we, 
She  hung  the  westlin'  heights  aboon 
When  we  cam'  frae  the  thorn  tree. 
Oh  for  the  thorn  tree,  the  fresh,  the  milk-white  thorn  tree  ; 
'Twas  past  the  midnight  hour  a  wee  when  we  cam  frae  the  thorn  tree. 


IV. 


I've  seen  the  glass  careerin'  past, 

I  liked  it  too — I'll  never  lee; 

ut  oh  its  joys  can  ne'er  be  classed 

Wi'  love  aneath  the  thorn  tree. 
Oh  for  the  thorn  tree,  the  fresh,  the  milk-white  thorn  tree; 
Of  a'  the  joys  there's  nane  to  me  like  love  aneath  the  thorn  tree. 


262 


THE  CHIEFTAIN   TO  HIS  BRIDE. 

Words  by  VV.  HENDERSON.  Music  Composed  and  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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come  to         fair         Ar       -      gyle,  my    love !         And  be  of        High-land 


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hearts  the    pride ;  O 


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own         thy  gen     -     tie  sway,  my     bride. 


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THE    CHIEFTAIN    TO    HIS    BRIDE. 


263 


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1.  Thy      home     shall    be  our    heath  -  clad    hills,    Wash'd  by        the       clear       At     -    Ian  -   tic  wave,     Where 

2.  Thine    own      shall    be  I    -    o    -    na's      Isle,       The   bright  -  est        gem        set  in       the  sea,        There 


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migh   -  ty        Fin    -    gal         liv'd        of       yore,        Where  sleep  in       death      his  war    -     riors     brave, 

rose      Co    -   lum    -  ba's  sa    -   cred      pile,  A      Light  to        bid        dark  a      -      ges        flee. 


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Thy  coming  like  yon  sun  shall  be 
When  breaks  she  through  the  mists  at  morn ; 
When  bathed  in  light  our  mountains  free, 
Oh  what  can  match  the  Land  of  Lome  ? 
Da  Crfo  at  segno.    Then  come  broad  Scotland  o'er,  my  love, 
And  be  of  loyal  hearts  the  pride  ; 
The  land  of  Burns,  the  land  of  Scott, 
Shall  yield  thee  homage  true,  my  bride. 


1<*>4 


Voice. 


JENNY'S   BAWBEE. 

Words  by  Sir  Alexander  Boswell. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i .       I        met    four  chaps  yon  birks  amang,  Wi' 
2.    The     first      a      cap  -  tain    to    his  trade,Wi' 


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hing  -  in'     lugs    and    fa  -  ces  lang ;      I      spier'd     at    nee-bour    Baul  -  dy       Strang    Wha's    they        I      see  ? 
skull      ill  -  lin'd  but  back  weel  clad,  March'd  round  the  barn,  and     by     the        shed,  And  pappit  on       his  knee. 


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Quo- 
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'  My    god  - 

F          w 
fac'd    paw  - 
dess, nymph 

ky      chiel 
and     queen, 

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here  they  come  a  -  wa'    to     steal        Jenny's  baw    -    bee. 
deil    a    beau-ty    he  had  seen  But  Jenny's  baw    -    bee. 


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JENNY'S    BAWBEE. 

in. 
A  lawyer  neist,  wi'  blatherin'  gab, 
Wha  speeches  wove  like  ony  wab, 
In  ilk  ane's  corn  aye  took  a  dab, 

And  a'  for  a  fee. 
Accounts  he  owed  through  a'  the  town, 
And  tradesmen's  tongues  nae  mair  could  drown-- 
But  now  he  thocht  to  clout  his  gown 

Wi'  Jenny's  bawbee. 

IV. 
A  Norlan'  laird  neist  trotted  up, 
Wi'  bawsand  naig  and  siller  whup, 
Cried,  '  There's  my  beast,  lad,  haud  the  grup, 

Or  tie't  till  a  tree. 
What's  gowd  to  me?  I've  walth  o'  Ian*; 
Bestow  on  ane  o'  worth  your  han'!' 
He  thocht  to  pay  what  he  was  aw'n 

Wi'  Jenny's  bawbee. 

v. 
Dress'd  up  just  like  the  knave  o'  clubs 
A  thing  cam'  neist  (but  life  has  rubs); 
Foul  were  the  roads  and  fu'  the  dubs. 

And  jaupit  a'  was  he. 
He  danced  up,  squinting  through  a  glass, 
And  grinned,  '  I'  faith  a  bonnie  lass;' 
He  thought  to  win  wi'  front  o'  brass 

Jenny's  bawbee. 

VI. 

She  bade  the  laird  gae  kame  his  wig, 
The  sodger  no  to  strut  sae  big, 
The  lawyer  no  to  be  a  prig ; 

The  fool  he  cried,  '  Tehee, 
J.  kenn'd  that  I  could  never  fail; 
But  she  preen'd  the  dishclout  to  his  tell 
And  soused  him  wi'  the  water  pail, 

And  kept  her  bawbee. 

VII. 

Then  Johnnie  cam',  a  lad  o'  sense, 
Although  he  had  na  mony  pence, 
And  took  young  Jenny  to  the  spence, 

Wi'  her  to  crack  a  wee. 
Now  Johnnie  was  a  clever  chiel, 
And  here  his  suit  he  press'd  sae  weel 
That  Jenny's  heart  grew  saft  as  jee^ 

And  she  birled  her  bawbee. 


26; 


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HAME   CAM'   OUR   GUDEMAN   AT  E'EN. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.  Hame  cam'  our    gude-man    at    e'en,  And 
2.  Hame  cam'  our    gude-man    at    e'en,  And 


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how's  this?  and  what's  this?  and    wha's    may  he      be? 
How's  this?and  what's  this?  and  how  cam' this  to      be? 


How      cam'  this  horse  here  with  -  out      the  leave   o'rae? 
How      c&m:  this    <nm    here  with  -  out      the  leave  o'rae? 


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Ye        sil  -  ly    blind      doit  -  ed  carle,  and  blind  -  er  may  ye     be, 
Ye      stup  -  id     auld      doit  -  ed  carle,  ye're   un  -    co  blind   I      see, 


It's      out      a      bon-nie     milk-cow    My 
It's     but      a      bon-nieparritchstickMy 


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min-niesent    to     me.        Milk  cow,  quo' he;        Aye    milk  cow,  quo' she; 
min-niesent    to     me.     Parritch-sticklquohe  ;       Ayeparritch-stick,  quo' she; 


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0      far        hae     I      rid-den,     And 
Far        hae    I      rid-den,     And 

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far    -  er  hae        I  gane,      But  a        sad  -  die      on        a        milk         cow         Saw 
meik  -  le  hae         I  seen,       But  sil    -  ler  mount  -  ed    parritch  -  sticks        Saw 


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I  ne  -  ver      nane. 


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III. 

Hame  cam'  our  gudeman  at  e'en 

And  hame  cam'  he; 
And  there  he  saw  a  feather  cap, 

Where  nae  cap  sud  be. 
How  this  ?  and  what's  this  ? 

And  how  cam'  this  to  be  ? 
How  cam'  this  bonnet  here 

Without  the  leave  o'  me  ? 
Ye're  a  silly  auld  donard  bodie, 

And  unco  blind  I  see  ; 
It's  but  a  tappit  clocken  hen 

My  minnie  sent  to  me! 
A  clocken  hen,  quo'  he; 

A  clocken  hen,  quo'  she; 
Far  hae  I  ridden 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  white  cockauds  on  clockin'  hens 

Saw  I  never  nane. 


IV. 

Ben  the  house  gaed  the  gudeman, 

And  ben  gaed  he; 
And  there  he  spied  a  Hieland  plaid, 

Where  nae  plaid  sud  be. 
How's  this  ?  and  what's  this  ? 

And  how  cam'  this  to  be, 
How  cam  the  plaid  here 

Without  the  leave  o'  me  ? 
O  hooly,  hooly,  my  gudeman, 

And  dinna  anger'd  be; 
It  cam'  wi'  cousin  Mackintosh 

Frae  the  north  country. 
Your  cousin,  quo'  he; 

Aye,  cousin,  quo'  she; 
Blind  as  ye  may  gibe  me 

I've  sight  enough  to  see 
Ye're  hidin'  Tories  in  the  house 

Without  the  leave  o'  me. 


268 


GLOOMY  WINTER'S   NOO  AWA\ 

Words  by  Robert  Tannahill.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  Gloo  -  my  win  -  ter's  noo       a    wa',       Saft     the    west-lin'  bree-zes  blaw ;  'Mang    the  birks      o'  Stan   -  ley  shaw  The 

2.  Tow'  -  ring  o'er     the  New  -  ton  woods  Lav'rocks  fan    the  snaw-white  clouds ;  Sil  -  ler  saughs  wi'  dow    -  ny  buds     A  - 


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-  dorn      the  banks     sae    brie  -  ry,       O.      Round  the     syl  -  van      fai   -    ry  nooks  Feath  -  ery  breckans  fringe    the  rocks 


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Come,  my 
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Flow'rs  may  bloom  and  ver-dure  spring,  Joy      to      me  they    can  -  na  bring,  Un- 


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YE   BANKS   AND   BRAES. 


Piano- 
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Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


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nie       Doon,    How         can        ye      bloom      sae  '       fresh    and    fair?      How 
nie      Doon,     To  sec       the       rose       and         wood-bine  twine ;    And 


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i.  Gin  I    had    a  wee  house  and  a      can  -  ty    wee     fire,       A      bon  -  nie  wee     wi  -  fie     to     praise  and  ad-mire,        A 
2.  When       I    gang  a  -  field  and  come  hame       at       e'en,     I'll      get      my  wee     wi  -  fie     hi'      neat    and  hi'  clean,  And  a 

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bon  -  nic  wee  yard-ic      be  -  side      a     wee    burn,         Fare  -  well      to  the      bod  -  ies      that  yam  -  mer    and  mourn, 
bon -nie  wee  bair-nie     to       sit       on    her    knee,      That  will  cry  pa  -    pa,  or     dad  -  die       to       me. 


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in. 

An'  if  there  should  happen  ever  to  be 

A  difference  atween  my  wee  wine  an'  me, 

In  hearty  good  humour,  although  she  be  teazed, 

til  kiss  her  and  clap  her  until  she  be  pleased. 

Sae  bide  ye  yet,  &e. 


274 


A   MAN'S  A  MAN  FOR  A'  THAT. 


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we  pass       him        by,         We        dare  be    puir  for  a1  that, 

and        knaves  their    wine,         A        man's  a    man  for  a'  that. 


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in. 

Ye  see  yon  birkie,  ca'd  a  lord, 

Wha  struts,  an'  stares,  an'  a'  that; 
Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  word 

He's  but  a  cuif,  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

His  ribbon  star,  an'  a'  that, 
The  man  of  independent  mind, 

He  looks  and  laughs  at  a'  that. 


IV. 

A  king  can  mak'  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  an'  a'  that  ; 
But  an  honest  man's  abune  his  might- 

Gude  faith,  he  maunna  fa'  that  1 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

Their  dignities,  an'  a'  that, 
The  pith  o'  sense,  the  pride  o'  worth, 

Are  higher  ranks  than  a'  that. 


Then  let  us  pray  that  come  it  may, 

As  come  it  will  for  a'  that, 
That  sense  and  worth  o'er  a'  the  earth, 

May  bear  the  gree,  an'  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

Its  comin'  yet  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man,  the  warld  o'er, 

Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that 


276 


Voice. 


ROY'S  WIFE  OF  ALDIVALLOCH. 


Words  by  Mrs.  Grant  of  Carron. 


a.   Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleadhilL. 


^ 


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Roy's      wife       of  Al   -   dival-loch, 


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Roy's      wife      of   Al  -    di-valloch,      Wat     ye    how     she  cheated  me,     As       I       cam'  o'er   the  braes     o'  Balloch. 

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i.     She  vow'd,  she  swore  she  wad     be  mine,    She 
2.  O,       she   was     a     can  -  tie  quean,  And 


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said  shelo'edmebest     of    ony,    But     oh  !  the  fickle,      faith-less    quean,  She's  ta'en  the  carle  and  left    her  Johnnie. 
weelcoulddancetheHielandwalloch,Howhap-py     I  had      shebeen    mine,    Or      I'd  been  Roy  of   Al  -  di  -  valloch. 


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Her  hair  sae  fair,  her  e'en  sae  clear, 

Her  wee  bit  mou',  sae  sweet  and  bonnie ; 

To  me  she  ever  will  be  dear, 
Though  she's  for  ever  left  her  Johnnie. 
Roy's  wife,  &c. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


O'ER  THE  MUIR  AMANG  THE  HEATHER. 


277 


Words  by  Jean  Glover. 


|§i±3E 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


$    J  •     J  •     *_W- 


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1.  Com-in'    thro'     the  craigs    o'  Kyle,     A- 

2.  Says  I,  my    dear,  where  is      thyhame?  In 


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-  mang    the  bon-  nie  bloom-in'  heather,  There    I  met    a    bon  -  nie    las  -  sie     Keep-in'       a'      her  ewes    the-gith-er. 
muir     or  dale  pray  tell    me  whether?Saysshe,I  tent  thae  flee  -  cy  flocks  That  feed    a -mang    the  bloom-in' heather. 


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O'er    the  muir     a-mang    the  heather,     O'er    the  muir      a-mang  the  heather,  There      I  met    a    bon  -  nie      las  -  sie 


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Keep  -  in'      a'        her  ewes    the  -  gith  -  er. 


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We  sat  us  down  upon  a  bank, 

Sae  warm  and  sunny  was  the  weather; 
She  left  her  flocks  at  large  to  rove 

Amang  the  bonnie,  blooming  heather. 
O'er  the  muir,  &c. 


IV. 

She  charmed  my  heart,  and  aye  sinsyne 
I  couldna  think  on  ony  ither; 

By  sea  and  sky!  she  shall  be  mine, 
The  bonnie  lass  amang  the  heather. 
O'er  the  muir,  &c. 


278 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


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Moderato. 

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THE  WOODS  0'  DUNMORE. 


Music  by  JAMES  JAAP. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  This      lone      heart    is       thine,     'as-sie, 

2.  O      sweet        is    thy     voice,     las-sie, 


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charm    -    ing      and    fair, 
charm    -     ing      and    fair, 


This  fond  heart    is     thine,         las  •  sie      dear ; 

En    -     chant     -    ing     thy  smile,        las  -  sie      dear ; 


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toil  aye      for  thee, 


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.  en  nor    kye, 
o'  thine    e'e 


I've      nae-thing,     dear       las  -  sie,  save     a 
Is        plea-sure     mair        sweet  than 


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sil    -   ler       to  me.  > 


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THE    WOODS   O'    DUNMORE. 


279 


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wan     -     der,  dear  las-sie,  'mang    the        woods  o'     Dun-more,        An'    wan    -     ier,  dear  las-sie,  'mang  the 


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III. 

O  come  to  my  arms,  lassie,  charming  and  fair, 

Awa'  wild  alarms,  lassie  dear  ; 
This  fond  heart  and  thine  like  ivy  shall  twiiie, 

1'ii  loe  thee,  dear  lassie,  till  the  day  that  1  dee. 
O  dinna  sav  me  na,  &a 


2  80 


LOCHNAGARR. 


Words  by  Lord  Byron. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  A    -     way,     ye    gay  land  -  scaoes.ye     gar  -  dens     of     ro     -     ses.  In  you     let     the    min    -   ions    of 

2.  Ah       there     my  young  foot  -  steps    in       in   -   fan  -  cy  wan    -   der'd,My         cap    was    the    bon    -    net,    my 

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lux      -      u    -    ry  rove, 
cloak       was     the  plaid  ; 


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Re    -      store       me    the  rocks 
On  chief  -  tains    de  -  part 


where    the    snow  -  flake        re  -  po    -    ses,     If 
ed      my       me  -    mo     -    ry  pon   -  der'd,  As 


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still     they     are      sa  -   cred      to  free  -  dom    and  love.  Yet,  Cal    -    e  -   do         -         nia, 

dai  -    ly         I   stray'd    thro'    the  pine  -  cov  -  er'd  glade.         I     sought  not      my  home  till  the 


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LOCHNAGARR. 


281 


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dear  are    thy  moun    -     tains,        Round  their  white   sum  -  mits    tho'        e   -  le 

day's         dy  -  ing    glo       -     ry  Gave       place      to       the      rays       of       the  bright 

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«7  u-—-""    *»     T^ — * — 

ca     -.   ta   -   racts  foam     'stead     of        smooth        flow  -  ing   foun-tains,    I       sigh      for     the     val  -  ley       of 
fan    -     cy      was  cheer'd      by     tra    -     di     -    -    tion  -    al    sto    -  ry,   Dis  -  clos'd    by    the     na-tives       of 


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dark  Loch  -  na  -  garr. 

dark  Loch  -  na  -  garr. 


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>»/ 


-et- 


ui. 
Shades  of  the  dead,  have  I  not  heard  your  voices 

Rise  on  the  night-rolling  breath  of  the  gale  ? 
Surely  the  soul  of  the  hero  rejoices, 

And  rides  on  the  wind  o'er  his  own  Highland  vale. 
Round  Lochnagarr,  while  the  stormy  mist  gathers, 

Winter  presides  in  his  cold  icy  car; 
Clouds  there  encircle  the  forms  of  my  fathers; 

They  dwell  'mid  the  tempests  of  dark  Lochnagarr. 

IV. 

Years  have  rolled  on,  Lochnagarr,  since  I  left  you, 

Years  must  elapse  ere  I  see  you  again; 
Though  nature  of  verdure  and  flowers  has  bereft  you, 

Yet  still  thou  art  dearer  than  Albion's  plain. 
England,  thy  beauties  are  tame  and  domestic 

To  one  who  has  roved  on  the  mountains  afar; 
Oh  for  the  crags  that  are  wild  and  majestic, 

The  steep  frowning  glories  of  dark  Lochnagarr. 


282 


Voice. 


ORAN  AN  AOIG,  OR  THE  SONG  OF  DEATH. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


9 


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1.  Fare   -  well     thou     fair       day,  thou  green     earth,      and     ye     skies,    Now         gay  with  the  broad       set -ting 

2.  Thou  strik'st     the      dull       pea  -  sant,    he        sinks        in      the    dark,     Nor        saves        e'en  the  wreck        of     a 


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Thou       grim      king       of  ter   -    rors,       thou 

In  the       field       of     proud      ho    -    nour,        our 


ORAN    AN    AOIG,   OR   THE    SONG    OF   DEATH. 


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life's       gloom -y  foe,  Go  fright  -  en.  the         cow  -  ard       and  slave! 

swords      in      our       hands,         Our  king      and        our        coun-try         to  save; 


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vie     -     to  -    try     shines      on      life's       last  eb  -  bing     sands,      Oh,  who  would         not         die  with  the 


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284 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


SCOTLAND     YET.* 


Words  by  Henry  S.  Riddell. 


Music  by  Peter  M'Leod. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEAUHILL 


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i.  Gae  bring    my  gude  auld  harp  ancemair.Gae 
2.  The  heath  waves  wild    up  -  on       her  hills,  And 


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they        dance  down         the        dells. 


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as  I  sing,  my       lads,         The 

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Auld       Scot     -    land's  howes,  and 
Then      Scot    -    land's  dales,  and 


Scot     -  land's  kno\ves,And 
Scot   -  land's  vales.      And 


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*  Inserted  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  Proprietors  of  the  Copyright,  Cramer  &  Co.,  London, 


SCOTLAND   YET. 


285 


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Scot     -    land's    hills         for      me;  -» 
Scot    -    land's    hills         for      me ;  J 


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in. 

The  thistle  wags  upon  the  fields, 

Where  Wallace  bore  his  blade, 
That  gave  her  foemen's  dearest  bluid 

To  dye  her  auld  grey  plaid. 
And  looking  to  the  lift,  my  lads, 

He  sang  this  doughty  glee  : 
Auld  Scotland's  right,  and  Scotland's  might, 

And  Scotlands's  hills  for  me  ; 
I'll  drink  a  cup  to  Scotland  yet, 

Wi'  a'  the  honours  three. 


2S6 


THE  BRAES  0'  BALQUHIDDER. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Robert  Tannahill. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


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I  will  range  thro'  the  wilds, 
An'  the  deep  glens  sae  dreary, 

An'  return  wi'  their  spoils 
To  the  bower  o'  my  dearie. 

Will  ye  go,  &c. 

IV. 

When  the  rude  wintry  win' 
Idly  raves  round  our  dwellin' 

An'  the  roar  of  the  linn 

Gn  the  night-breeze  is  sweliin"- 
Will  ye  go,  &c. 


Sae  merrily  we'll  sing, 
As  the  storm  rattles  o'er  us, 

T  11  the  dear  sheeling  ring 
Wi'  the  light  liltin'  chorus. 
Will  ye  go,  &c. 

VI. 

Now  the  summer  is  in  prime, 
Wi'  the  fiow'rs  richly  bloomin'. 

An'  the  wild  mountain  thyme 
A'  the  moorlands  perfumin'. 
Will  ye  go,  &c 


VII. 

To  our  dear  native  scenes 
Let  us  journey  together, 

Where  glad  innocence  reigns 
'Mang  the  braes  o'  Balquhiddcr, 
Will  ye  go,  &c 


288 


LASSIE   WF   THE   LINT-WHITE   LOCKS. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Bobert  Burns. 


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cheer'dilk  droop-ing  lit   -  tie  flow'r,  We'll  to  the  breath-ing  wood-bine  bow'r  At    sul  -  try  noon,  my  dea  -  rie,  O. 


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When  Cynthia  lights  wi'  silver  ray 
The  weary  shearer's  hameward  way, 
Thro'  yellow  waving  fields  we'll  stray, 
And  talk  o'  love,  my  dearie,  0. 
Lassie  wi',  &c. 


IV. 

And  when  the  howling  wintry  blast 
Disturbs  my  lassie's  midnight  rest, 
Enclasped  to  my  faithfu'  breast, 
I'll  comfort  thee,  my  dearie,  O. 
Lassie  wi',  &c. 


Voice. 


MY  WIFE  HAS  TAEN  THE  GEE. 


289 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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To     drink       a     pot         of    ale        wi'  him,      In     the    neist    bor  -  ough  toun. 
That     lang       or     e    -    ver    mid  -  night  cam',  We  baith  were  roar   -  in'  fou. 


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But        oh  !     a-lake  !    it  was     thewaur,  And  sair    the  waur  for    me ! 
My      wife      sits  by    the  fire     -     side,And  the  tear  blinds  aye  her     e'e  ; 


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In  the  mornin'  soon,  when  I  came  doun, 

The  ne'er  a  word  she  spak' ; 
But  mony  a  sad  and  sour  look, 

And  aye  her  head  she'd  shak'. 
'  My  dear,'  quo'  I,  '  what  aileth  thee, 

To  look  sae  sour  at  me? 
I'll  never  do  the  like  again 

If  ye'U  ne'er  tak'  the  gee.' 


When  that  she  heard  she  ran,  she  flang 

Her  arms  about  my  neck, 
And  twenty  kisses  in  a  crack, 

And  poor  wee  thing  she  grat. 
'  If  ye'll  ne'er  do  the  like  again, 

But  stay  at  hame  wi'  me, 
I'll  lay  my  life  I'se  be  the  wife 

That's  never  tak'  the  gee.' 


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Voice. 


PIBROCH  0'  DONUIL  DHU. 


Wonis  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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2.  Come    from     deep      glen,       and    from  Moun  -  tain       so       rock    -     y,  The  war  -  pipe      and      pen     -    non    Are 

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Come       in       your      war         ar  -  ray,     Gen  -  ties      and       com  -  mons.  Come 
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PIBROCH    O'   DONUIL   DHU. 


291 


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the        sum   -  mons !  Come        in        your 
heart    that      wears       one ;    Come       ev'    -    ry 


war  ar    -    ray,     Gen  -    ties 

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Leave  untended  the  herd, 

The  flock  without  shelter  ; 
Leave  the  corpse  uninterr'd, 

The  bride  at  the  altar. 
Leave  the  deer,  leave  the  steer, 

Leave  nets  and  barges  ; 
Come  with  your  righting  gear, 

Broadswords  and  targes. 
Leave  the  deer,  &c. 


IV. 

Come  as  the  winds  come,  when 

Forests  are  rended ; 
Come  as  the  waves  come,  whe.i 

Navies  are  stranded. 
Faster  come,  faster  come, 

Faster  and  faster  ; 
Chief,  vassal,  page,  and  groom, 

Tenant  and  master. 

Faster  come,  &c 


Fast  they  come,  fast  they  come, 

See  how  they  gather  ! 
Wide  waves  the  eagle  plume, 

Blended  with  heather. 
Cast  your  plaids,  draw  your  blade?., 

Forward  each  man  set ; 
Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dim. 

Knell  for  the  onset ! 

Cast  your  plaids,  <kc. 


292 


BONNIE  AULD   SCOTLAND. 


i 


Words  by  G.  BENNETT,  Esq. 


Music  by  Charles  Blamphin. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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dear    are  the  mem'-ries  of      bon-nie  auld  Scotland !  So     treasur'd      in  song    and  so        famous      in   sto  -  ry  ;     There 
grand    are  the  mountains  of     bon-nie  auld  Scotland,  Her      torrents  wild  wa  -  ters,  sun    jew-el*d     and  glooming;     How 


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lives    not    a  name  but  would  add    to      the  fame    Of  old    Rome    in    the  days      of   its     greatness     and  glo  -  ry. 
ro  -    sy  the  breath  of  each  moorland     and     heath,  How    love    -  ly  her  lakes     aud  her      val  -  leys  now  blooming. 


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Of  her    warriors' bold  deeds       the   wiae      world  reads,  Both    kings    and  queens  great  applaud  them; 
No  fo     -    reign  strand,     nor     clas     -     sic  land,     Earth's  fair    -     est  scenes        to    -  ge-ther, 


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min  -  strel  be-times  the  whole  heart  enshrines,  In        raptures    of    love  e'en  a  -  dore  them, 

win  .  .  .    our  praise  like    yon    -     der  braes,  And      fra      -    grant  hills    of  pur-ple      hea-ther. 

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Bon-nie    auld  Scot-land  bon-nie    auld  Scot-land, The      land  of  my  birth,     dear      bon-nie    auld  Scot-land. 


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'Tis  because  thou'rt  the  land  of  our  birth,  bonnie  Scotland, 
Our  love  is  the  love  that  no  changes  can  sever; 
Thy  breath  is  our  health,  and  thy  treasures  our  wealth, 
And  thy  brave  hearts  our  kindred  for  aye  and  for  ever. 
Then  up  we'll  stand  for  Fatherland 

And  England's  might  and  beauty; 
i  or  home  and  Queen,  till  foremost  seen 

True  patriots  strong  of  love  and  duty. 

Bonnie  auld  Scotland,  &c. 


294 


MY   HIGHLAND   COT 


Words  by  CHARLES  BLAMPHIN. 


Music  by  CHARLES  BLAMPHIN. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  The    bon-nie,      bon-nie      blue    bells        I     clear  -  ly    love    to     see,  In      all     their  beau-ty  sweet,    when  the 

2.  My    hum-ble     Highland     cot         is  a      pic-ture    fair     to   view,  With  clear  and  winding  lake    whose  dear 


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sun     sets  o'er   the    lea ; 
charms  seem  e'er    a  -  new ; 


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Oh      Scot -land  braw,  my   lov'd    home,  my 


sor-row      e  -  ver    dwells,  For 

country    and   my    pride,  Thy 


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mist  is  on    the  brae,         With  faithful  hound  beside  me,  the  track  be  where  it  may.  Oh  the     bonnie,  bonnie  blue  bells     I 
grandeur  tho'  'tis  poor,  No  life    to    me  so  sweet  with  my  weans  beside  the  door.  Oh  a-mong  the  bonnie  blue  bells   we 

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dear  -  ly    love     to    see,  In 

dear  -  ly    love    to    see,  In 


all  their  beau  -  ty  sweet,      when    the       sun    sets  o'er      the  lea ;  My 

all  their  beau  -  ty  sweet,      when    the      sun    sets  o'er      the  lea ;  Our 


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Highland  home  they  grace,  where      no      sor-row     c-vcr     dwells,  For      there     my     on-  ly     love     blooms     a 

Highland  home  they  grace,  where      no     sor-row      e-vcr    dwells,  For     there    our     on  -  ly     love    blooms    a 


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like      the  bon-nie     bells.    1       _.         .  .        ,  ,  .        ,  ,    .  .  .  .  .  ■      ,    „ 

>      The      bon-nie,     bon-me,     bon-me,     bon-me,     bright,     and  bon-nie    bells. 


like      the  bon-nie    bells. 


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THE   PRIDE   OF  INVERARY. 


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Words  by  Charles  Blamphin. 


Music  by  Charles  Blamphin. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  In    an      old  thatch'd  cottage  at  the      bottom  of     a  hill,  Near  the  glens      of  sweet       In -ver   -  a    -    ry,  Dwells  a 

2.  When  I      met       my    las-sie    it  was       in  the  month  of  June, Near  a    well  by  the  clear  run -ning  wa  -   ter,  Her 


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mai   -den      as    pure        as    the    stream's  rippling  rill,        And    called    by    the  sweet  name  of      Ma    -    ry. 
love  -  beam-ing    eye        by    the    beams     of  the  moon  Told  my  heart    she    was  earth's  fairest    daugh  -  ter. 


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With    heart       sad    and  light        as         a 

Though  scarce  -  ly    could  speak    fear  'twould 


I've      wan    -  der'd     the  world        a    -  mid  weal 
I        plight   -   ed      my  love       with     my  heart 


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But      of         all        sweet      crea  -  tures  there      is        none      that        I  know,      Like    the 
But     she      gave        con    -  sent      and    hop  -  ing       ne    -    ver        to    rue,        And    I'd 


fea  -  ther, 
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Voice. 


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WEE   WILLIE   WINKIE. 


Words  by  W.  MILLER. 


Music  by  Charles  Blamphin. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  Wee 

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Wil  -  lie        Win  -  kie  rins        thro'      the    town,  Up  stairs 

Wil  -  lie        Win  -  kie        are  ye       com    -    in'      ben  ?       The      cat's  sing 


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in       his     night     -     gown ; 
to       the  sleepin'        hen  ; 


Tirl    -  in'     at       the   win    -    dow  cry  -  in'      at        the  lock,  Are  the 

The        dog's        spel-der'd  on  the  floor,   and  dis  -  na     gie         a  cheep,  But 


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Tir  -  lin'       at        the  window 

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WEE   WILLIE   WINKIE. 


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cry-ing  at    the  lock,  Are  the  weans    in  their  bed,  for  'tis    now    ten  o'clock, 
dis-na  gie    a  cheep,      But  here's  a  wauk-rife  lad  -  die  that  winna  fa'   a-sleep. 


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III. 

Onything  but  sleep,  you  rogue,  glpw'rin'  like  the  moon, 
Rattlin'  in  an  aim  jug  wi'  an  aim  spoon ; 
Rumblin',  tumblin'  round  about,  crawin'  like  a  cock, 
Skirlin'  like  I  kenna  what,  wauknin'  sleepin'  folk. 

IV. 

Hey  Willie  Winkie!  the  wean's  in  a  creel, 
Wamblin'  aff  a  body's  knee  like  a  very  eel ; 
Ruggin'  at  the  cat's  lug,  rav'lin'  a'  her  thrums- 
Hey  Willie  Winkie!  see,  there  he  comes. 


Wearied  is  the  mither  that  has  a  stoorie  wean, 

A  wee  stumpy  stousy  that  canna  rin  his  lane  ; 

That  has  a  battle  aye  wi'  sleep  before  he'll  close  an  c'c. 

But  a  kiss  frae  aff  his  rosy  lips  gi'es  strength  anew  to  nc. 


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THE  AULD  TOWN  0'  STIRLING. 


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Words  by  D.  C. 


Music  by  JOHN  FlNLAY. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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lies  the       'auld  town         o'      Stir  -  ling;'  Gent  -  ly 

fa'  on    calm    sim    -   mer's    morn,  As      gen  -  tie 


the  Forth       winds  its 
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tor     -     tu  -  ous         way;  The       auld       Scot    -  tish    hills  lie       proud    -  ly  un  -  fur    -  ling        Their 

eve    -  ning    tide        play,  As       sweet        as        the  frag-rance      of      bloom  -         ing    haw  -  thorn       Is  my 


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'ring  ray. 
my  day. 


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My      days  pass    aye       cheerie  be- 


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THE   AULD   TOWN   O'    STIRLING. 


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lin  -  net's  sweet     sang, 
neath    her  sweet    smiles, 


Its        proud  cas  -tie  turrets    time's  rav 

And         time  but  more         firm-ly     our      hearts 


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is    the     saft       thrill    -   ing  pang 
'mid  the  sweet        art     -    less  wiles 


Frae  my    fair       Is 
O'     my    ain       Is 


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SWEET  HEATHER   BELL. 


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Words  by  J.  H.  Devon. 
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i.       The    emblems       of  na-tions   are  sung    of    with  rap-tuves,  And  man-y    are  flow-ers  which  in  beau-ty    ex -eel,    But  I'll 
2.  When  the  sun  frae    the  east  sheds  his  rays    on   this  blossom,  Its  fragrance   perfumes       a'     the  moorland  and  dell,  But  a 


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sing    of        a  wild  flow'r  that  decks  our  roughmountains,And    blooms  round  the  cot  where  my     Flo-ra  doth  dwell, 

glance  frae    my  Flo  -  ra       is    life's  dear- est     treasure,     And    moves    my  fond  heart  with         love's         glowing  spell. 


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In        leg-  ends      of     dar  -  ing  what  deeds  there     be  -  fel ;     The      sweet      hea  -  ther    bell 


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sweet     hea  -  ther    bell        is  sae       like  her   sel',      My    ain      na  -  tive   blos-som,    my  sweet    heather    bell. 


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The  chieftain,  arrayed  in  the  garb  of  the  mountain, 
His  bold,  graceful  bearing  his  nation  will  tell ; 

And  the  land  of  his  grandsires,  the  birthplace  of  heroes, 
Gave  life  to  my  Flora,  the  sweet  heather  bell. 

Sweet  heather  bell,  &c. 


Sing  on  ye  sweet  birds  of  the  lake  and  the  mountain. 

And  bloom  ye  fair  flowers  of  the  woodland  and  dell ; 
Aboon  a'  your  charms  is  my  heart's  moving  fountain, 

My  ain  dearest  Flora,  the  sweet  heather  bell. 

Sweet  heather  bell,  &c. 


3°4 


AULD  ROBIN  THE  LAIRD. 


Words  by  Alexander  Maclagan, 


Music  by  Andrew  THOMSON. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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I.  Auld        Rob  -  in        our    laird      thocht  o'    chang  -    in'    his      life,        But    he      did  -  na        weel    ken    whaur  to 
2. 'Noo         Tib  -  by,'       quo'     he,      'there's  a      queer       ru-mour    rins      Thro' the      haill  coun  -    try     side      that  there's 

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wale  a      guid        wife,  A        plump  quean       had        he 

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Tib  -  by,1     said    the     laird,  Io  !       Tib  -  by  ap  -  pears.      '  Sit     down.'  said     the    laird, 

what    a'      -     bo  -  dy      says,  ye        ken  maun        be        true.     Sae  ye  ought  to      be  grate 


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AULD    ROBIN  THE   LAIRD. 


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want-  ed      a    wee,' 
their  cour  -  te  -  sie,' 

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'Very     weel   sir,' quo'  Tib-by, 
'  Very    weel   sir,'  quo'  Tib-by, 


'sae  let 
'sae  let 


it      be,'     'Sit    down'  said  the  laird,       'ye  are 
it     be,'  'Sae  ye  ought    to    be  grate    -    fu'  for 


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wan  -  ted  a  wee,'    '  Very  weel    sir,'  quo'  Tib-by,    '  sae    let   it  be.' 

their  cour-t-e  -  sie,'    '  Very  weel    sir,'  quo'  Tib-by,    '  sae    let    it    be.' 


i 


III. 

'  Noo  it  seemeth  but  just  an'  richt  proper  to  me 
That  ye  milk  your  ain  cow  'neath  your  ain  fig  tree; 
That  a  servant  sae  thrifty  a  guid  wife  will  mak\ 
It's  as  clear  as  daylicht,  sae  a  man  ye  maun  tak\ 
Wha  will  haud  ye  as  dear  as  the  licht  o'  his  e'e.' 

1  Very  weel,  sir,'  quo'  Tibby,  '  sae  let  it  be.' 

IV. 

'  The  pearl  may  be  pure,  Tib,  though  rough  be  the  shell, 
Sae  I'm  determined  to  wed  ye  mysel', 
An'  a'  that  a  lovin'  an'  leal  heart  can  grant 
O'  this  warld's  wealth,  lass,  troth  ye  shall  nae  want; 
Sae  a  kiss  to  the  bargain  ye  maun  gie  to  me.' 

'  Very  weel,  sir,'  quo'  Tibby,  '  sae  let  it  be.' 


The  weddin'  day  cam'  wi'  bridecake  and  bans, 

Fand  Tib  i'  the  kitchen  'mang  tubs,  pats,  and  pans. 
'  Bless  me,'  quo'  the  laird,  '  what  on  earth  hauds  you  here  ? 

Our  frien's  are  a'  met  in  their  braw  bridal  gear; 

Ye  maun  busk  in  your  best,  lass,  and  that  speedily.' 
'  Very  weel,  sir,'  quo'  Tibby,  '  sae  let  it  be.' 

VI. 

When  the  blessin'  was  said  an'  the  feastin'  was  done, 

Tib  crap  to  her  bed  i'  the  garret  aboon, 

When  she  heard  the  laird's  fit  an'  his  tap  at  her  doer. 

She  wondered — he  ne'er  took  sic  freedoms  before; 
'  Come  Tibby,  my  lass,  ye  maun  listen  to  me.' 
'  Very  weel,  sir,'  quo'  Tibby,  '  sae  let  it  be.' 

VII. 

'  Noo  Tibby,  ye  ken  we  were  wedded  this  nicht, 
An'  that  ye  should  be  here  haith  I  think  is  no  richt; 
It  canna  be  richt,  for  when  women  an'  men 
Are  wedded,  they  ought  to  be  bedded,  ye  ken; 
Sae  come  doon  the  stair,  Tib,  an'  e'en  sleep  wi'  me.' 

4  Very  weel,  sir,'  quo'  Tibby,  '  sae  let  it  be.' 


3°6 


Voice. 


MY  TOCHER'S  THE  JEWEL. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 

6:3:2 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gi.eadhill. 


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1.  O        mei  -  kle      thinks     my        love 

2.  Your     prof  -  fer         o'      love's        an 

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my     beau  -    ty,      And    meik  -  le      thinks 
pen    -    ny,      My      toch  -  er's       the 


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to  -  cher's        the        jew  -    el  has        charms  for       him.        It's         a' 

ye      wi'  a     -      ni  -  ther        your        fortune         maun       try.       Ye're-    like 


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MY   TOCHER'S   THE   JEWEL. 


307 


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nou  -  rish 
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the       tree,        It's 
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to         the  bark  o'         yon       rot      -     ten 


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thread,         And     ye'll  crack     your 


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3°8 


I 


ROW  WEEL,   MY  BOATIE,  ROW  WEEL. 


Words  by  WALTER  Weir. 
Andante. 


DUET. 


Music  by  R.  A.  SMITH. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Row  weel,        my    boa-  tie,      row     weel,      Row 

2nd.  Voice. 


weel,         my    mer  -  ry     men        a';        For    there's 


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weel,        my    boa  -tie,      row    weel,      Row 


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dule      and  there's  wae      in    Glen    -  no 


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rich's  bow'rs,  And  there's  grief    in      my 


fa    -    ther's 


ha'. 


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dule      and  there's  wae      in    Glen   -  ho    - 


rich's  bow'rs,  And  there's  grief    in 

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And  the  skiff  it  danc'd  light   on  the    mer-ry    wee  waves,  And  it      flew  o'er  the    wa-ters    sae    blue; 


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And  the  skiff  it  danc'dlight   on  the    mer-ry    wee  waves,  And  it      flew  o'er  the    wa-ters    sae    blue; 


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ROW   WEEL,   MY   BOATIE,    ROW    WEEL. 


309 


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irind      it     blew  light,  and  the  moon      it    shone  bright,        But  the    boa -tie     ne'er  reach'd  Al  -  Ian  -  dhu. 


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wind      it     blew  light,  and  the  moon     it    shone  bright,         But  the    boa -tie      ne'er  reach'd  Al  -  Ian  -  dhu. 

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Och     -      on     for    fair      El-len,      och  -  on,        Och 

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on     for    the    pride  of     Strath    -    coe ; 


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deep,     deep      sea,      in    the    saut,      saut      bree, 


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Voice. 


0  YE  NEEDNA  BE  COURTIN'  AT  ME,  AULD  MAN. 


Words  by  Peter  Still. 


Music  by  JAMES  RENNIE. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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FORTE. 


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1.  O     ye  need   -  na       be     cour  -  tin'       at        me,  auld    man, 

2.  Gang    hame     to      your  gowd     and    your     gear,  auld    man, 


Ye     need  -  na       be      cour  -  tin1      at 
Gang   hame      to    your    gowd  and    your 


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Ye're     three  -  score       and      three,       and    ye're  blind         o'  an        e'e,  Sae       ye 

There's  a    lad    -  die,         I  ken,       has        a    heart       like  my       ain,         And        to 


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need  -  na      be       cour-  tin'      at 
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O    YE   NEEDNA   BE   COURTIN'    AT    ME,   AULD   MAN. 


3ii 


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Hae     pa-ticnce  and  hear  me      a       wee,   sweet  lass,  Hae      pa-tience  and  hear  me     a       wee; 
I'll    busk    ye     as     braw  as       a     queen,  sweet  lass,  I'll     busk   ye      as     braw  as      a       queen  ; 


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goup  -  ins      o'     gowd,  and  an     awm  -  ry    weel  stow'd,And  a     heart    that  loes  nane    but      thee,  sweet    lass,  And    a 
gui  -  neas     to     spare,       and,      hark    ye,  what's  mair,       I'm         only        twa  score  and  flf  -  teen,  sweet    lass,       I'm 

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heart     that    Iocs  nane      but      thee, 
only  twa     score  and    fif    -    teen. 


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O  stan'  aff  na'  and  fash  me  nae  mair,  auld  man, 

Stand  aff  na'  and  fash  me  nae  mair; 
There's  a  something  in  love  that  your  gowd  canna  move, 

I'll  be  Johnnie's  although  I  gang  bare,  auld  man. 
I'll  be  Johnnie's  although  I  gang  bare. 


3" 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


0!  HUSH  THEE,  MY  BABY. 

Words  by  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  O!     hush      thee,  my       ba  -  by !        thy      sire 

2.  O !     fear        not    the       bu  -  gle,       tho'      loud 


was     a      knight,     Thy      mo 
ly      it      blows ;         It       calls 


ther      a         la  -  dy  so 

but    the      war-ders        that 


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love     -      ly       and    bright.       The      woods       and     the      glens       from  these       tow'rs  which     we         see,         They 
mard        thy       re  -  pose.         Their    bows       would    be        ben    -    ded,  their     blades    would      be        red,       Ere  the 


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all         are    be    -    long  -  ing,    dear       ba  -  by,         to        thee.-» 
step  of    the        foe         draws  near     to         thy        bed.) 


O !        rest        thee,babe,  rest    thee,    babe, 


O!   HUSH   THEE,   MY   BABY. 


313 


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sleep         on        till       day, 


O !      rest        thee,  babe,    rest    thee,       babe,  sleep      while    you    may. 


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O !  rest  thee,  my  darling,  the  time  soon  will  come 
When  thy  sleep  shall  be  broken  by  trumpet  and"  drum  ; 
Then  rest  thee,  my  darling,  oh!  sleep  while  you  may, 
For  strife  comes  with  manhood,  as  light  comes  with  day. 

O  !  rest  thee  babe,  rest  tbee,  iw. 


3'4 


VOICE. 


0  WHA'S  AT  THE  WINDOW,  WHA,  WHA? 


Words  by  ALEX.  CARLYLE. 


Music  by  R.  A.  Smith. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  O      wha's         at        the  win      -       dow  wha, 

2.  He  has  pligh   -    ted       his  troth  an'  a,'  an' 


wha?         O      wha's  at        the 

a',  Leal  love  to 


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wha, 
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wha?     Wha      but  blythe 
a',  And         sae 


Ja    -   mic      Glen,       He's  come      sax 
has       she       done  By  a' 


— K- 


miles     and        ten,  To 

that's       a     -     boon,     For  he 


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tak'        bon  -  nie      Jean  -  nie  a    -    wa,'  a     -     wa' 

loes         he"-,     she      loes    him      "boon       a,'      'boon        a,' 


To  tak' 

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bon  -  nie      Jean 
her,      she      loes 


nie         a  - 
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O    WHAS    AT   THE   WINDOW,  WHA.   WHA? 


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Bridal  maidens  are  bravv,  braw, 
Bridal  maidens  are  braw,  braw, 
But  the  bride's  modest  e'e 
An'  warm  cheek  are  to  me 
'Boon  pearlins  and  brooches  an'  a',  an'  a' 
'Boon  pearlins  and  brooches  an'  a'. 


'<  here's  mirth  on  the  green  in  the  ha',  the  ha'. 
There's  mirth  on  the  green  in  the  ha',  the  ha', 
There's  laughing,  there's  quaffing, 
There's  jesting,  there's  daffing, 
Anil  the  bride's  father's  blythest  of  a',  of  i ', 
And  the  bride's  father's  blythest  of  a'. 


It's  no  that  she's  Jamie's  ava,  ava, 
Its  no  that  she's  Jamie's  ava,  ava, 
That  my  heart  is  sae  eerie 
When  a'  the  lave's  cheerie, 
But  it's  just  that  she'll  aye  be  awa',  awa', 
But  it's  just  that  she'll  aye  be  awa'. 


X 


316 


Voice. 


\ 


KATE  DA'RYMPLE. 


Words  by  William  Watt. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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1.  In     a     wee      cot    house   far     a  -  cross   the  muir,  Where  peaseweeps,  plo  -  vers,  and  whaups  cry   drea  -  ry,      There 

2.  Her      face     had  a  smack   o' the  gruesome  and  grim,  That    did    frae  the  fash      o'      a'  wooers   de  -  fend   her;      Her 


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liv'd      an  auld    maid        for     mo  -  ny  lang  years,  Wham  ne'er        a        woo    -    er      did    e'er      ca'        dea  -  rie. 
lang        Roman  nose    nearly  met    wi'     her     chin,      And  brang    folks  in  mind     o'      the    auld  witch  o'  En   -  dor. 


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A    lane     -    ly  lass    was    Kate    Da'  -  rym  -  pie,    A  thrif    -    ty         quean    was    Kate    Da'  -  rym  -  pie ;  Nae 

A  wiggle    in  her        walk    had    Kate    Da'  -  rym  -  pie,   A  snivel    in  her        talk     had    Kate    Da'  -  rym  -  pie ;  And 


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KATE   DA'RYMPLE. 


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mu  -  sic      ex  -  cep  -  tin'    the  clear    bur-nie's  wim  -  pie  Was  heard  round  the    dwell  -  ing    o'    Kate     Da'-rym-ple. 
mony      a     cor-ne  -  lian  and  cairn  -  gor -um  pirn  -  pie   Did  shine    on    the      din      face    o'    Kate     Da'-rym-ple. 


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in. 

She  span  tarry  woo'  the  hale  winter  thro', 

For  Kate  ne'er  was  lazy  but  eident  and  thrifty  ; 

She  wrought  mang  the  peats,  coil'd  the  hay,  shore  the  corn, 

And  supported  hersel'  by  her  ain  hard  shift  aye. 

But  ne'er  a  lover  cam'  to  Kate  Da'rymple 

For  beauty  and  tocher  wanted  Kate  Da'rymple, 

Unheeded  was  the  quean  by  baith  gentle  and  simple, 

A  blank  in  existence  seem'd  Kate  Da'rymple. 


IV. 

But  mony  are  the  ups  and  downs  in  life, 
When  the  dice-box  of  fate's  jumbled  tapsalteene  ; 
Sae  Kate  fell  heiress  to  a  rich  frien's  estate, 
An'  nae  langer  for  lovers  had  she  cause  to  weary. 
The  Squire  cam'  a  wooin'  soon  o'  Kate  Da'rymple, 
The  Priest,  scrapin',  bowin',  fan'  out  Kate  Da'rymple, 
An'  on  ilka  wooer's  face  was  seen  love's  smilin'  dimple, 
Sae  now  she's  nae  langer  Kate — but  Miss  Dalrymple. 


Her  auld  cutty-stool  that  she  used  at  her  wheel 
Is  flung  by  for  the  saft  gilded  sofa  sae  gaudy ; 
An'  now  she's  arranged  in  her  silks  and  brocade, 
An'  can  brank  now  for  ruffs  and  muffs  wi'  ony  lady. 
But  still  an  unco  fash  to  Kate  Da'rymple 
Was  dress  and  party  clash  aye  to  Kate  Da'rymple, 
She  thought  a  half  marrow  bred  in  line  mair  simple 
Wad  be  a  far  fitter  match  for  Kate  Da'rymple. 


VI 

She  oftentimes  thought  when  she  dwelt  by  hersel', 

She  could  wed  Willie  Speedyspool,  the  sarkin  weaver  ; 

An'  now  unto  Will  she  the  secret  did  tell, 

Wha  for  love  or  for  int'rest  did  kindly  receive  her. 

He  flang  by  his  heddles  soon  for  Kate  Da'rymple, 

He  brunt  a'  his  treadles  down  for  Kate  Da'rymple, 

Tho'  his  right  e'e  doth  skellie,  and  his  left  leg  doth  limp  ill, 

He's  won  the  heart  and  got  the  hand  o'  Kate  Da'rymple. 


3'8 


THE   BATTLE   OF  BANNOCKBURN. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


Words  by  William  Sinclair. 


Music  by  Marquis  Chisholm. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


£EE?E 


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2.  How    stern  yet    how     tran  -  qui!     the  sight, 


Stern  Scot  -  land  went  for  -  ward    in  might, 
The         in  -    fan  -  try    si  -  lent  -  ly  stood, 


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ere      they  were  shad  -  ed    by  night, 


To      fight     for    her  free  -  dom  and  right ; 
The       co-lumnswerede  - lug'd   in   blood; 


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Wav'd    si  -   lent    de  -  fi  -  ance  and  scorn ; 
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■rec  -  ted      vie -to  -  rious  -  ly  there, 


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Were       arous'd      on  that  ter  -  ri    -   ble  morn  ! 
Un       -     fur  -  ling  its  folds  o'er    the  scene. 

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clear  dawn     of  June       the  wide      car  -  ses     revealed,  How  great    was  the  throng,    how     stal-wart  and  strong, 
migh  -  ty       in-  va   -    dcrs  were  struck  with  dismay,  Midst  shout  -  ings  and  scorn  on  that  bright  summer  morn, 


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great    was     the  throng,       how       stal-wart  and  strongWere  the  thousands  whomarch'd  on     the    glo    -    ri -ous  field, 
shout  -  ings  and  scorn,         all  tat  -  ter'd  and  torn,     Their   plu  -  mage  and  splen  -  dour     of     bat  -  tie     ar-ray. 


Trumpet  call. 


3.  How  dreadful  the  shock  of  the  mass, 
Whilst  cavalry  charg'd  on  the  squares ! 
How  delug'd  that  fatal  morass 

As  they  fell  in  the  pits  and  the  snares  ! 
Great  praise  noble  army  to  thee 
That  crush'd  by  that  river's  fair  banks 


For  Scotland,  the  land  of  the  free, 

The  strength  of  the  enemy's  ranks  : 
The  bright  sky  of  June  was  smiling  above, 

How  great  was  the  truce,  and  how  noble  the  Bruce, 
How  great  was  the  truce,  and  how  kingly  the  Bruce, 

When  they  triumph'd  for  country,  for  freedom  and  love. 


BLUE  BONNETS  OVER  THE  BORDER. 


i 


Words  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
ft: 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhili„ 


& 


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i.  Ma   -   ny      a     ban-ner  spread  flut  -  ters    a  -  bove  your  head,  Ma   -  ny    a    crest  that    is     fam-ous    in    sto   -   ry, 
2.  Come  from  the  hills  where  your    hir  -  sels  are    graz      -     ing,Come  from  the  glen      of   the  buck    and   the  roe, 


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«  Mount  and  make  ready    then,  sons      of  the  moun-tain  glen  ;  Fight  for  your  king  and    the    old    Scottish        glo    -  ry. 
Come      to  the  crag  where  the   bea  -  con  is  blaz      -     ing,  Come   with  the  buck-ler,     the  lance,  and  the  bow. 


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Trumpets  are  sounding,  war-steeds  are  bounding, 
Stand  to  your  arms  and  march  in  good  order, 

England  shall  many  a  day  tell  of  the  bloody  fray, 
When  the  blue  bonnets  came  over  the  border. 

March,  march,  &c- 


322 


LUCY'S    FLITTIN'. 


Words  by  William  LaidlAw. 


Music  by  R.  A.  Smith. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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when     the  wan    leaf  frae    the    birk  tree  was       fa -in',  And     Mar -tin-mas  dow-  e    had  wound  up   the       year,   That 
gaed      by   the     sta  -  ble  where  Jam  -  ie    was    stanin',   Right    sair    was  his  kind  heart  the      flit -tin'    to         see; 


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Lu    -    cy  row'd  up    her    wee      kist    wi'  her       a'    in't,  And       left      her  auld  mas  -  ter      and  neigh-bours  sae    dear. 
'  Fare      ye  weel     Lu  -  cy',  quo'     Ja  -  mie,  and  ran      in,  The    gath  -  rin'  tears  trick-led  .  .  .        fast       frae  his     e'e. 


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the  burn     -  side      she      gaed      slow      wi'    her       flit-tin' . 


'  Fare        ye  weel      Lu    -    cy'  was 


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that      was  the  thing  brought  the         tears       to   her       e'e. 
Rob  -  in'   was  chirp  -  in't      the       brown  leaves  a-mang. 


III. 


0  wha  is't  that  pits  my  puir  heart  in  a  flutter  ? 
And  what  gars  the  tears  come  sae  fast  to  my  e'e  ? 

If  I  was  nae  ettled  to  be  ony  better, 

Then  what  gars  me  wish  ony  better  to  be  ? 

I'm  just  like  a  lammie  that  loses  its  mither  ; 
Nae  mither  nor  friend  the  puir  lammie  can  see 

1  fear  I  hae  tint  my  bit  heart  a'thegither  ; 
Nae  wonder  the  tear  fa's  sae  fast  frae  my  e'e. 

IV. 

Wi'  the  rest  o'  my  claes  I  hae  row'd  up  the  ribbon, 

The  bonnie  blue  ribbon  that  Jamie  gae  me  : 
Yestreen  when  he  gae  me't,  and  saw  I  was  sabbin', 

I'll  never  forget  the  wae  blink  o'  his  e'e. 
Though  now  he  said  naething  but '  Fare  ye  weel,  Lucy,' 

It  made  me  I  neither  could  speak,  hear,  nor  see 
He  could  na  say  mair,  but  just  "  Fare  ye  weel,  Lucy," 

Yet  that  I  will  mind  till  the  day  that  I  dee. 


The  lamb  likes  the  gowan  wi'  dew  when  it's  drookit, 

The  hare  likes  the  brake  and  the  braird  on  the  lea  ; 
But  Lucy  likes  Jamie — she  turn'd  and  she  lookit, 

She  thought  the  dear  place  she  wad  never  mair  see. 
Ah  !  weel  may  young  Jamie  gang  dowie  and  cheerless  ; 

Ah  !  weel  may  he  greet  on  the  bank  0'  the  burn ; 
Kis  bonnie  sweet  Lucy,  sae  gentle  and  peerless, 

Lies  cauld  in  her  grave,  and  will  never  return. 


324 


DUNCAN   GRAY. 


i 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 
43: 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


Voice. 


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i.  Dun   -  can        Gray      cam      here        to  woo,  Ha, 

2.  Dun   -  can      fleech'd,     and       Dun    -    can       pray'd,         Ha, 


ha,        the        woo    -    in'  o't,  On 

ha,        the       woo    -     in'  o't ; 


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blythe       yule        night      when       we        were        fu\  Ha, 

Meg         was         deaf  as  Ail     -    sa        Craig,  Ha, 

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ha,        the      woo    -   in'  o't. 

ha,        the       woo    -   in'         o't. 


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Mag  -   gie        coost         her  head       fu'        heigh,         Look'd      as    -     klent      and      un    -     co      skeigh, 

Dun  -  can       sigh'd        baith  out        and         in,  Grat        his  e'en      baith  bleer'd    and      blin', 


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Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide, 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't, 

Slighted  love  is  sair  to  bide, 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 

Shall  I  like  a  fool,  quo'  he, 

For  a  haughty  hizzie  dee  ? 

She  mae  gae  to — France  for  me, 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 

IV. 

How  it  comes  let  doctors  tell, 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't, 

Meg  grew  sick  as  he  grew  well; 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 

Something  in  her  bosom  wrings, 

For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings, 

And  oh  her  een  they  spak  sic'  things. 
Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 

v. 
Duncan  was  a  lad  o'  grace, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  0% 
Maggie's  was  a  piteous  case, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 
Duncan  couldna  be  her  death, 
Swelling  pity  smoor'd  his  wrath, 
Now  they're  crouse  and  cantie  baith, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't. 


326 


ROBIN   ADAIR. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


Andantino. 


Piano- 
Forte.  ' 


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1.  What's       this  dull  town  to         me?  Ro       -      bin's  not  near; 

2.  What      made         the  ball  so        fine?  Ro       -       bin  A        -       dair ; 


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Where's         all  the 

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joy  and      mirth     Made 

play  was        o'er,     What 


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I  GAED  A  WAEFU'  GATE  YESTREEN. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhill. 


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2.   She    talk'd,  she  smil'd,     my 

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gate  yes    -    treen,  A        gate,        I        fear,  I'll 

heart         she  wil'd,  She    charm'd  my      soul,  I 


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my        death  frae  twa        sweet        e'en,  Twa 

the      stound,         the  dead    -    ly  wound,  Cam' 


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I    GAED    A    WAEFU'    GATE    YESTREEN. 


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Voice-. 


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WOO'D  AND  MARRIED  AN'  A ' 


Words  by  Joanna  Baillie. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Allegretto 


1.  The  bride    she    is    win-some  and  bon- nie,  Her 

2.  Her    mi  -  ther  then  has  -  ti  -   ly  spak',         The 


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hair      it    is    snoo-ded    sae  sleek  ;  And  faith -fu'    and  kind       is  her  John -nie,  Yet  fast      fa'    the  tears     on  her  cheek, 
las   -  sie  is    glai  -  ket    wi'  pride ;  In  my  pouches    I      had       na  a        plack      The       clay        that     I        was  a    bride. 


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Newpearlings  the  cause   o' her  sor-row,  New  pearlings  and  plenishing    too  j  The  bride  that  has      a'        to    bor-row  Has 
E'en  lak   to  your  wheel  and  be  cle-ver,  And  draw  out  your  threadinthe  sun  ;  The  gear  that  is    gifted     it    ne -ver   Will 


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e'en        right  muck  -  le       a  -    do,        Woo'd 
last    like  the  gear  that    is     won.      Woo'd 


and  mar  -  ried  an'         a,' 
and  mar  -  ried  an'         a,' 


Woo'd    and  mar  -  ried    an'     a' ;  And 
Tocher    and  sav  -  in's  sae   sma';    I 


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WOO'D   AND   MARRIED    AN'   A. 


331 


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nashe  ve- ry  weel  aff,   To  be  woo'd  and  mar-ried  an'  a.' 
ye  are  ve-  ry  weel  aff,   To   be  woo'd  and  mar-ried  an'  a.' 


III. 

•  Toot,  toot,'  quo'  the  gray-headed  faither, 
'  She's  less  o'  a  bride  than  a  bairn  ; 
She's  t»'en  like  a  cowt  frae  the  heather, 

Wi'  sense  and  discretion  to  learn. 
Half  husband,  I  trow,  and  half  daddy, 

As  humour  inconstantly  leans, 
A  chiel  maun  be  constant  and  steady 
That  yokes  wi'  a  mate  in  her  teens.' 
'Kerchief  to  cover  sae  neat 

Locks  the  wind  used  to  blaw  ; 
I'm  baith  like  to  laugh  and  to  greet 
When  I  think  0'  her  married  at  a'. 

IV 

Then  out  spak'  the  wily  bridegroom, 

Weel  waled  were  his  wordies  I  wean, 
4  I'm  rich,  though  my  coffer  be  toom, 

Wi'  the  blinks  o'  your  bonnie  blue  e'en 
I'm  prouder  o'  thee  by  my  side, 

Though  thy  ruffles  or  ribbons  be  few, 
Than  if  Kate  o'  the  Croft  were  my  bride. 
Wi'  purples  and  pearlings  anew.' 
Dear  and  dearest  o'  ony, 

Ye're  woo'd  and  bookit  an'  a', 
And  do  you  think  scorn  o'  your  Johnnie, 
And  grieve  to  be  married  at  a'  ? 


v. 

She  twin'd  and  she  blush'd  and  she  smil'd, 

And  she  lookit  sae  bashfully  down  ; 
The  pride  o'  her  heart  was  beguil'd, 

And  she  play'd  wi'  the  sleeve  o'  her  gown  ; 
She  twirl'd  the  tag  o'  her  lace, 

And  she  nippit  her  boddice  sae  blue  ; 
Syne  blinkit  sae  sweet  in  his  face, 
And  aff  like  a  maukin  she  flew ! 
Woo'd  and  married  an'  a', 

Married  and  carried  awa', 
She  thinks  hcrsel'  very  weel  aff, 
To  be  woo'd  and  married  an'  a'. 


33* 


THE  BROOM  0'  THE  COWDENKNOWES. 


Author  of  Words  unknown. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i.  How   blythe      was     I  ilk       morn        to        see        My       swain    cam'     o'er        the  hill, 

2.     I  nei     -    ther  wan    -    ted       ewe        nor    lamb,    While      his      flocks    near       me  lay ; 


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leap'd      the         burn       and        flew  to        me,         I  met      him    wi' 

ga    -    ther'd       in  my        sheep        at      night,     And    cheer'd    me      a' 


good    will, 
the       day. 


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the    broom,   the      bon-nie,   bon  -  nie  broom,    The      broom      o'    the     Cow  -  den  -  knowes ; 

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THE    BROOM    O'    THE    COWDENKNOWES. 


333 


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the    broom,    the  -  bon-nie,    bon  -  nie   broom. 


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He  tun'd  his  pipe  and  reed  sae  sweet) 
The  birds  stood  list'ning  by ; 

Even  the  dull  cattle  stood  and  gf.zed, 
Charm'd  wi'  his  melody. 


O  the  broom,  &c. 


IV. 


While  thus  we  spent  our  time  by  turns, 
Betwixt  our  flocks  and  play, 

I  envied  not  the  fairest  dame, 
Though  e'er  so  rich  and  gay. 
O  the  broom,  &c. 


V. 

Hard  fate  that  I  should  banish'd  be, 
Gang  heavily  and  mourn, 

Because  I  lov'd  the  kindest  swair*. 
That  ever  yet  was  born. 

O  the  broom,  &c. 


VI. 

My  doggie  and  my  little  kit 
That  held  my  wee  sup  whey, 

My  plaidie,  brooch,  and  crooked  stick, 
Maun  now  lie  useless  by. 
O  the  broom,  &c. 


VII. 

Adieu,  ye  Cowdenknowes,  adieu  ! 

Fareweel  a'  pleasures  there, 
Ye  gods  restore  me  to  my  swain, 

It's  a'  I  crave  or  care. 

O  the  broom,  &c. 


334 


DAINTY    DAVIE. 


Voice. 


Words  by  ROBERT  BURNS. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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1.  Now        ro     -     -    sy  May  comes  in        wi'    flow'rs  To      deck      her  gay     green    spread  -  ing    bowr's  ;  And 

2.  When     pur    -     -    pie  morn-  ing         starts    the      hare  To      steal      up  -  on      her  ear     -    ly        fare,    Then 


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hap  -  py    hours,  To     wan  -  der      wi'  my  Da     -     -      vie. 

will      re  -    pair  To     meet     my     faith     -     fu'  Da    -    -      vie. 


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The     crys  -  tal  wa-ters  round    us        fa',      The       mer   -   ry        birds    are 

When  day        ex    -     pi  -  ring  in       the      west    The        cur    -  tain      draws     o' 


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DAINTY   DAVIE. 


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Meet 


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I'll  spend     the  day      wi'     you,  My    ain       dear  dain     -     ty  Da 


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336 


Vqice. 


I'LL  HAE  MY  COAT. 

Words  by  Sir  Alexander  Boswell. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL 


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i.    I'll  hae        my 

2.  Auld        Punch      will 


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337 


baith 
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best    sark's    bleech  -  in' 

yad's    ran        o'er      the 


that's      but    harn,  Your 
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coat's      a'         stour,  your 
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III. 

Meg.  Think  laird  a  wee,  and  look  about, 
Your  gear's  a'  thrivin'  in  and  out, 
I'm  wae  to  see  you  courtin'  dule, 
Wha  kens  but  this  same  quean's  a  fool. 
LAIRD.  Aye  J  aye !  your  drift's  no  ill  to  tell, 
Ye  fain  wad  hae  me,  Meg,  yoursel', 
But  sure  as  Blutterbog's  my  name, 
I'll  court  the  lass  and  bring  her  hame. 


33» 


HOOLY  AND  FAIRLY. 


Words  by  Joanna  Baillie. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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i-     Oh     neighbours,  what     had       I 


a    -     do         for     to       mar   -   ry  ?     My      wife       she  drinks  pos  -  sets     and 
2.    She    feasts    wi'      her       kiin-mers      on      dain   -    ties     e      -      now,  Aye     bow    -    in'    and    smir-kin'      and 


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wine       o'    Ca  -  na  -  ry,  And      ca's  me      a      nig  -  gard  -  ly    thrawn-gab-bit    car  -  lie  ;      O       gin  my  wife  would  drink 
dight  -  in'  her       mou  ;    While      I       sit      a  -  side    and    am       hel  -  pit    but  spare  -  ly  ;      O       gin  my  wife  would  feast 


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O        gin  my    wife  would  drink  hoo  -  ly       and    fair    -    ly. 


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To  fairs  and  to  bridals  and  preachings  and  a' 
She  gangs  sae  light-headed  and  buskit  sae  braw ; 
It's  ribbons  and  mantuas  that  gar  me  gae  barely  ; 
O  gin  my  wife  would  spend  hooly  and  fairly 
Hooly  and  fairly,  &o. 

IV. 

I'  the  kirk  sic  commotion  last  Sabbath  she  made, 
Wi'  babs  o'  red  roses  and  breast  knots  o'erlaid  ; 
The  dominie  stickit  the  psalm  very  nearly  ; 
O  gin  my  wife  could  dress  hooly  and  fairly. 
Hooly  and  fairly,  &c. 


She's  warring  and  flyting  frae  morning  till  e'en, 
And  if  I  gainsay  her  her  e'e  glowr's  sae  keen  ; 
Then  tongue,  neive,  and  cudgel  she'll  lay  on  me  sairly  ; 
O  gin  my  wife  wad  strike  hooly  and  fairly. 
Hooly  and  fairly,  &c. 

VI. 

When  tired  o'  her  cantrips  she  lies  in  her  be«, 
The  wark  a'  negleckit,  the  house  ill  up-red, 
While  a'  our  gude  neighbours  are  stirring  right  early 
O  gin  my  wife  wad  wark  timely  and  fairly. 
Timely  and  fairly,  &c. 

VII. 

A  word  o'  guid  counsel  or  grace  she'll  hear  none, 
She  beardies  the  elders,  and  mocks  at  Mess  John, 
And  back  in  his  teeth  his  ain  text  she  flings  sairly  : 
O  gin  my  wife  wad  speak  hooly  and  fairly. 
Hooly  and  fairly,  &c. 


VIII. 

I  wish  I  were  single,  I  wish  I  were  freed, 
I  wish  I  were  doited,  I  wish  I  were  dead ; 
Or  she  in  the  mools  to  dement  me  nae  main/, 
What  dost  avail  to  cry  '  Hooly  and  fairly, 
Hooly  and  fairly,  hooly  and  fairly, 
Wasting  my  breath  to  cry  '  Hooly  and  fairly. 


34° 


CA'  THE  EWES  TO  THE  KNOWES. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Voice. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 
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I-     As        I  gaeddown      the       wa     -     ter  side,  There 

2.    Will     ye         gang  down      the       wa     -     ter  side,         And    see 


I    met        my     shep    -     herd  lad,      He 
the  waves     sae    sweet     -     ly    glide     Be  • 


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row'd         me    sweet  -  ly  in    his 

neath         the     haz  -   els      spreading 


plaid,      And     ca'd 
wide,      The    moon 


me        aye       his       dea 
that     shines       fu'      clear 


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If  ye'll  but  stand  to  what  ye've  said, 
I'se  gang  wi'  you,  my  shepherd  lad  ; 
And  ye  may  row  me  in  your  plaid, 
And  I  shall  be  your  dearie. 
Ca'  the  ewes,  &c. 


==l 


IV. 

While  waters  wimple  to  the  sea, 
While  day  blinks  in  the  lift  sae  hie ; 
Tifl  clay  cauld  death  shall  blin'  my  e'«? 
Ye  aye  shall  be  my  dearie. 
Ca'  the  ewes,  &o 


342 


Voice. 


PlANO- 
FORTE. 


THE  LAWLAND  LADS. 


Words  by  Allan  Rams 


Music  by  Dr.  Arne. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  The  Law- land      lads  think        they     are  fine,     But  O     they're      vain    and  id   -   ly     gau- dy ;  How 

2.  If  I    were        free     at  will     to  choose,   To  be        the         weal-thiest        Law -land     la-dy;    I'd 


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much   un     -     like     the        grace   -  fu'  mien,    And      man    -    ly    looks     of  my  High  -  land    lad -die. 

tak'  young       Don  -  aid  wi'      the  trews,     Wi'  bon  -    net         blue     and  bel    -    ted     plai  -  die. 

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THE     LAWLAND    LADS. 


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heav'n 


still        guard 


and        love 


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iii. 

The  brawest  beau  in  burrows  town, 

In  a'  his  airs  wi'  art  made  ready, 
Compar'd  to  him,  he's  but  a  clown, 

He's  finer  far  in's  tartan  plaidie. 
O  my  bonnie,  &c. 

IV. 

O'er  benty  hill  wi  him  I'll  run, 
And  leave  my  Lawland  kin  and  daddy  ; 

Frae  winter's  cauld,  and  summer's  sun, 
He'll  screen  me  wi'  his  Highland  plaidie, 
O  my  bonnie,  &c. 

v. 

A  painted  room,  a  silken  bed, 

May  please  a  Lawland  laird  and  leddy , 
But  I  can  kiss  and  be  as  glad, 

Behind  a  bush  in's  Highland  plaidie. 
O  my  bonnie,  &c. 

VI. 

Few  compliments  between  us  pass, 
I  ca'  him  my  dear  Highland  laddie, 

And  he  ca's  me  hisLawland  lass, 
Syne  rows  me  in  aneath  his  plaidie. 
O  my  bonnie,  &c. 

VII. 

N ae  greater  joy  I'll  e'er  pretend 

Than  that  his  love  prove  true  and  steady, 
Like  mine  to  him  which  ne'er  shall  end 

While  Heaven  preserves  my  Highland  laddie. 
O  my  bonnie,  kc. 


\ 


344 


Voice. 


THE  BANKS  OF  THE  DEE. 


Words  by  JOHN  TAIT. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Moderate 


Piano- 
Forte. 


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i.  'Twas  sum   -   mer    and      saft   -  ly       the     bree  -  zes     were    blow  -  ing,     And    sweet   -   ly     the  night  -  in  -  gale 
2.     But    now         he's  gone    from     me      and     left       me      thus  mourn  -  ing,     To      quell       the  proud  re  -   bels     for 


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sang        frae     the      tree,  At    the 

va    -    liant      is         he ;  And 


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foot     of       a        rock  where  the 

ah  1  there's  no     hope       of    his 


ri    -    ver    was       flow  -  ing, 
speed  -   y         re  -    turn  -    ing, 


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sat       my  -   sel'      down    on  the      banks 
wan  -  der        a    -    gain     on  the      banks 


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of      the      Dee.    Flow        on,       love     -    ly         Dee, 
of      the      Dee.    He's      gone,      hap    -  less        youth, 


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flow 
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THE  BANKS  OF  THE  DEE. 


345 


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on      thou  sweet        ri 
loud     roar  -  ing  bil 


ver,     Thy      bank's      pur    -  est 
lows,     The      kind    -     est,    the 


.stream  shall    be         dear         to      me 
sweet -est,     of  all         the    gay 


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e  -  ver  ;  For 
fel  -  lows,  And 


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I      first      gain'd      the  af    -     fee 

me        to        stray,  'mongst     the      once 

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tion     and        fa  -  vour    Of         Ja  -  mie,  the        glo  -  ry      and 
lov   -  ed        wil  -  lows,  The      lone   -  li  -  est     maid    on     the 


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III. 

But  time  and  my  pray'rs  may  perhaps  yet  restore  him, 
Blest  peace  may  restore  my  dear  shepherd  to  me  ; 

And  when  he  returns,  with  such  care  I'll  watch  o'er  him, 
He  never  shall  leave  the  sweet  banks  of  the  Dee. 

The  Dee  then  shall  flow,  all  its  beauties  displaying, 

The  lambs  on  its  banks  shall  again  be  seen  playing  ; 

While  I  with  my  Jamie  am  carelessly  straying, 
And  tasting  again  all  the  sweets  of  the  Dee. 


34« 


Voice. 


ON  THE  SEAS  AND  FAR  AWAY. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 

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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GleADHILL. 


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i.  O  how      can         my      poor       heart    be    glad,  When        par    -   ted    from      my      sail  -  or       lad,        Or 

2.  At        the        star  -    less  mid  -  nighthour,When        win   -  ter     rules  with  bound  -  less  pow'r, 


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storms      the  for    -  est    tear,     And    thun 

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the        how  -  ling     air. 

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ON    THE    SEAS    AND    FAR    AWAY. 


347 


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I        can,  I      weep      and       pray        For         his         weal 


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III. 

Peace  thy  olive  wand  extend, 
And  bid  wild  war  his  ravage  end  ; 
Man  with  brother  man  to  meet, 
And  as  a  brother  kindly  greet : 
Then  may  Heav'n  with  prosp'rous  gales 
Fill  my  sailor's  welcome  sails  ; 
To  my  arms  their  charge  convey, 
My  dear  lad  that's  far  away. 
On  the  seas,  &c 


348 


WELCOME    ROYAL    CHARLIE. 


Voice 


Piano- 
Forte. 


I 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Allegretto. 


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France     had       her         as    -    sis    -    tance    lent,        A        Roy    -    al      Prince        to        Scot    -    land     sent ;      To 
-    rouse,        ilk        val    -    iant        kil    -    ted      clan,      Let      High  -  land    hearts      lead       on  the      van,      And 


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wards        the 
charge       the 


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north 
foes, 


his    course 
clay  -  more 


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bent 
hand, 


His     name 
For     sake 


was 
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Roy 
Roy 


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Char 
Char 


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tar   -   tain    plaid,  An' 

a'        your      ain,  Thrice 


Our      gal  -  lant     Scot  -  tish  Prince       was   clad     Wi'     bon   -  net     blue        and 
O        wel  -  come     Char  -  lie      o'er  the   main,    Our   High  -  land    hills         are 


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WELCOME    ROYAL    CHARLIE. 


349 


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O  he  was  a 

wel    -   come         to  our 


hand 
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An'  O"       but     ye've    been      lang         o'     com    -   in,' 


Lang, 


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but       ye've      been      lang  o'      com 


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in. 

From  a'  the  wilds  o'  Caledon 
We'll  gather  every  hardy  son, 
Till  thousands  to  his  standard  run 

And  rally  round  Prince  Charlie. 
Come  let  the  flowing  quech  go  round, 
And  boldly  bid  the  pibroch  sound, 
Till  every  glen  and  rock  resound 

The  name  0'  Royal  Charlie. 

An'  O  but  ye've  been  lang,  &c. 


35° 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


THE  DEIL'S  AWA  WI'  THE  EXCISEMAN. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.    The       deil  cam' 

2.  We'll      male'  our 


fid 

maut, 


dlin' 
we'll 


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thro' 
brew 


the  town,         And     dane'd  a     -     wa       wi'    th'  ex- 

our  drink,       We'll      laugh,       sing,      and  re- 


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man; 
man : 


And 
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auld 
braw 


wife 
thanks  to 


cried 
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muckle    black 


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deil, 


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USE 


THE    DEIL'S    AWA    WP    THE    EXCISEMAN. 


35i 


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III. 


There's  threesome  reels,  there's  foursome  reels, 
There's  hornpipes  and  strathspeys,  man, 

But  the  ae  best  dance  e'er  cam'  to  the  land 
Was  '  the  deil's  awa  wi'  th'  exciseman.' 
The  deil's  awa,  &c. 


35* 


THE  BRAES  0'  BALLOCHMYLE. 


I 


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Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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ye      flow'rs, 


The        flow'rs        de     -      cay'd        on 
A      -     gain         ye'll  flou    -    rish 


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fresh         and       fair ;       Ye        bir 


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dies     dumb 


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in       with' 


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ring    bow'rs 


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THE    BRAES    O'    BALLOCHMYLE 

__| 1* ^— *. 


353 


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Fare     -     weel,      fare      -    weel,       sweet 

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354 


HAUD  AWA\  BIDE  AWA\ 


Voice. 


I 


fsl 


Words  by  Robert  Allan. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


w 


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Moderate. 


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35- 


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Haud 


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wa,'         bide  a    -     to', 


Haud 


wa'       frae        me, 
-I— 


Don  -  aid, 


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HAUD    AW  A',  BIDE    AWA\ 


355 


5= 


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:f: 


i.      I        wad   -    na      leave 
2.    My      Ja    -    mie        is 


my     Law  -  land       lad,        For        a' 
a        gal   -   lant     youth,       I         loe 


your    gowd      and     gear,        Don -aid,     Sae 
but      him  a   -  lane,        Don  •  aid, 


11 


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tak     your    plaid    and    o'er        the      hill,        And 
And       in       bon  -  nie     Scot  -  land's    isle,         Like 


stay 
him 


nae    Ian 

there 


ger 
is 


here, 
nane, 


Don-  aid. 
Don  -  aid. 


j£ 


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III. 

He  wears  nae  plaid  nor  tartan  hose, 

Nor  garters  at  his  knee,  Donald  ; 
But  O  he  wears  a  faithfu'  heart, 

And  love  blinks  in  his  e'e,  Donald. 
Sae  haud  awa',  bide  awa', 

Come  nae  mair  at  e'en,  Donald  ; 
I  wadna  brak  my  Jamie's  heart, 

To  be  a  Highland  queen,  Donald. 


356 


HIELAND  LADDIE. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


Voice. 


§5^ 


S 


Moderato. 


§3^= 


S=E 


=r 


*— *— 4 


-4 S- 


PlANO- 
FORTK. 


mf 


rit. 


S^il    A. 


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I 


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s 


1.  Will  ye       go         to  In  -   ver    -   ness, 

2.  Geor    -    die      sits        in        Char  -  lie's      chair, 


Bon   -  nie        lad     t      die, 
Bon   -  nie        lad     -      die, 


Hie    -  land     lad    -  die? 
Hie    -  land      lad    -  die,  Had 


£ 


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i 


^ 


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s 


"-£- 


£ 


^ 


^ 


^ 


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• 


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^ 


There 
I 


F*=F 


you'll    see        the       Hie  -  land 
my     will      he'd         no      sit 


dress,        Bon    -    nie        lad 
there,         Bon    -    nie        lad 


die,         Hie  -  land      lad  -  die. 
die,  Hie  -  land    *  lad  -  die. 


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Phil   -    a 

Ne'er       re 


beg 

fleet 


and      bon 

on       sor 


net        blue,     Bon   -    nie        lad      -      die, 
rows      past,      Bon   -    nie        lad      -      die, 


Hie  -  land 
Hie  -  land 


1  "^i-jr 


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HIELAND    LADDIE. 


357 


5 


5 


^ 


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m 


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For        the        lad        that    wears    the 
Char    -     lie       will         be        King    at 


trews,  Bon    -    nie        lad 

last,  Bon    -    nie        lad 


die,         Hie  -  land      lad  -  die. 
die,        Hie  -  land      lad  -  die. 


~l- 


^2 


^=r^ 


^ 


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m 


m 


in. 


Time  and  tide  come  round  to  a', 

Bonnie  laddie,  Hieland  laddie ; 
And  upstart  pride  will  get  a  fa', 

Bonnie  laddie,  Hieland  laddie  ; 
Keep  up  your  heart,  for  Charlie  fight? 

Bonnie  laddie,  Hieland  laddie  j 
Come  what  may,  ye've  done  what's  right, 

Bonnie  laddie,  Hieland  laddie. 


358 


Voice. 


Piano - 
Forte. 


( 


WILL  YE  GO  TO  THE  EWE  BUGHTS,  MARION? 


Author  unknown. 
With  additions  by  Allan  Ramsay. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


S: 


Lento. 


m 


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I  I 


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s 


1,  Will       ye        go 

2.  O  Ma 


to    the      ewe  bughts,  Ma    -     rion, 

rion's  a        bon        -        nie  lass,  An' 


And    wear       in      the    sheep        wi' 
the     blythe        blink's       in  her 


i 


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me? 
e'e, 


The        sun        shines  sweet, 
And        fain    would  I  mar 


5 


^- 


Ma 
Ma 


rion,      But      nae    half  sae      sweet         as 


rion,       Gin       Ma  -  rion  wad      mar 


ry 


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me; 


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The 
And 


sun       shines  sweet, 
fain     would  I     mar 


+ 


my 

ry 


Ma 
Ma 


rion,        But    nae    half  sae    sweet  as 

rion,        Gin     Ma  -  rion  wad      mar    -      ry 


*m^ 


i 


3=< 


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=f=2= 


WILL    YE    GO    TO    THE    EWE    BUGHTS,    MARION? 


359 


i 


thee. 
me. 


in. 


There's  gowd  in  your  garters,  Marion, 
And  silk  in  your  white  hause-bane  ; 

Fu'  fain  wad  I  kiss  my  Marion, 
At  e'en,  when  I  come  hame. 


IV. 


There's  braw  lads  in  Earnslaw,  Marion, 
Wha  gape  and  glow'r  wi'  their  e'e, 

At  kirk  when  they  see  my  Marion  ; 
But  nane  o'  them  loes  like  me. 


v. 


I've  nine  milk-ewes,  my  Marion, 
A  cow  and  a  brawny  quey ; 

I'll  gie  them  all  to  my  Marion, 
Just  on  her  bridal  day. 

VI. 

And  ye'se  get  a  green  sey  apron, 
And  waistcoat  o'  the  London  brown  ; 

And  vow,  but  ye  will  be  vap'rin 
Whene'er  ye  gang  to  the  town. 

vn. 

I'm  young  and  stout,  my  Marion, 
Nane  dances  like  me  on  the  green 

And  gin  ye  forsake  me,  Marion, 
I'll  e'en  gae  draw  up  wi'  Jean. 


VIII. 


Sae  put  on  your  pearlins,  Marion, 

And  kyrtle  o'  the  cramasie  ; 
And  soon  as  the  sun's  down,  my  Marion, 

I  shall  come  west  and  see  ye. 


360 


WEEL  MAY  THE  KEEL  ROW. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


-2- 


WE^ 


t  Allegretto. , 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


1.  O       who        is     like 

2.  He      has       nae  mair 


EiEd£ 


mf 


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my 
0' 


i 


ds= 


j= 


iJ 


John      -      nie,         So        leish, 
learn     -     ning      Than       tells 


1e 


§ 


so     blythe,        so  bon 

his      week    -    ly  ear 


^ 


nie,       He's       fore  -   most     'mang        the 
ning,       Yet       right       frae      wrang        dis 


:=£ 


mm 


T 


I 


¥ 


mo 
cer 


I 


* 


ny 
ning, 


Keel       lads 
Tho'     brave. 


o'         coal 
nae      bruis 


y 

er 


Tyne. 
he; 


He'll 
Tho' 


set 
he 


T 


or        row 
no      worth 


so 
a 


P 


£B£ 


£ 


I 


£ 


-$— p- 


4 


^ 


SI 


tight 
plack 


iy> 

is, 


Or 
His 


in 

ain 


the    dance 
coat      on 


so 
his 


spright      -     ly,       He'll        cut 
back  is,       And      nane 


and    shuf 
can      say 


•  fle 
that 


^m 


* 


r 


WEEL    MAY    THE    KEEL    ROW. 


S6i 


I 


m 


^z=m 


m 


sight 
black 


ly,     'Tis      true,      were    he         not    mine 
is       The     white        o'    John    -   ny's 


e} 


Weel 


mav       the     keel 


zjec 


.      *    \    * 


row,       the 


w 


tnf 


r 


ilEE 


^ 


^ 


-*r 


m 


keel 


row,        the  keel 


row, 


Weel 


may 


the      keel 


row        That 


5 


r 


he 


i       r 


-J- 


W. 


^ 


^r-*^r 


my 


lad's         in. 


-g— !- 


*      *      IT 


m 


-g=*i 


•*—*- 


u=*£ 


W: 


t7 


H 


i      1 


-i h- 


III. 

He  wears  a  blue  bonnet, 
Blue  bonnet,  blue  bonnet, 
He  wears  a  blue  bonnet, 

A  dimple  in  his  chin. 
As  I  cam'  thro'  Sandgate, 
Thro'  Sandgate,  thro'  Sandgate, 
As  I  cam'  thro'  Sandgate, 

I  heard  a  lassie  sing. 
Weel  may  the  keel  row,  &c. 


362 


Voice. 


Piano- 
Forte. 


pn 


JS 


Moderato.  , 

:t>  .   1      l 


ESEE 


mf 


YE  CANNA  MARRY  ME. 


* 


-i=t 


^ 


Air  by  James  WATSON,  Esq. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


T 


^P 


it±± 


3± 


,■—»      .     ^> 


HS- 


-is>- 


I   ^1 


r- 


1 


m 


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=1= 


r? 


£: 


-t>-0- 


1.  Tak'      back 

2.  I  pro 


the        rim; 
mis'd       to 


dear 
my 


Jam 

dad 


le, 

die, 
I 


The 
A 


ring 
fore 


you 
he 


gaed 
slipp'd 


T- 


-?zi- 


=t 


to 
a 


3: 


:& 


r 


p 


:pst 


=P* 


-t— 


3=: 


-r 


I 


3 


n^fc 


2=t 


me, 
wa', 


And 
I 


a 
ne'er 


the 
wad 


vows 
leave 


you 
my 


made 
mam 


yes    - 


treen, 
mie, 


-* 


Be  - 

What 


—  "i1^- 


-N—  - 


3E 


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^ 


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3= 


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il 


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=3v^ 


1    ^5)- 


s 


i 
1 


neath 

the 

bir 

ken 

tree 

e'er 

sud 

her 

be 

■    fa'. 

m^ 


tm 


But        gie 
I'll      faith 


sr 


— r- 


me        back 
ful         keep 

-J* 0- 


my 
my 


m 


YE    CANNA    MARRY    ME. 


363 


I 


fe£ 


^Z^" 


I 


heart 
pro 

dfc=b 


1 

a    -    gain, 
mise, 


=t 


It's 
For 


a' 
a' 


I 

that 

fc- 


hae 
ye 


to 
can 


— s= 

gie? 
gie; 


Gin 
So 


SE 


m 


-h U 


A. 


I 


ee 


^ 


^^ 


3v= 


^ 


ye'll 
Ja 


( 


no 

mie 


wait 
if 


a 
ye 


fit 
win 


ting 
na 


time, 
wait, 


Ye 

Ye 


can 

can 

S 

-*- 


na 
na 


mar 
mar 


ry 


®&=f 


=SZ 


si 


1 


EE3E 


^= 


T 


-o- 


i 


i 


♦F 


=Fhf 


Igl 


me 
me 


J5-J- 


i 


^ 


5 


?=e 


-SI- 


^^^ 


-<=- 


S 


^=r 


-s- 


III. 

I  canna  leave  my  mammie, 

She's  been  sae  kind  to  me, 
Sin  e'er  I  was  a  bairnie, 

A  wee  thing  on  her  knee  ; 
Nae  mair  she'll  kaim  my  gowden  hair, 

Nor  busk  me  snood  and  braw  ; 
She's  auld  and  frail,  her  e'en  are  dim, 

An'  sune  will  close  on  a'. 


IV. 

I  maunna  leave  my  mammie, 

Her  journey  is  nae  lang, 
Her  held  is  bending  to  the  mools, 

Where  it  mun  shortly  gang ; 
Were  I  an  heiress  o'  a  crown, 

I'd  a'  its  honours  tine, 
To  watch  her  steps  in  helpless  age, 

As  she  in  youth  watch'd  mine. 


2  A 


364 


Voice. 


DONALD. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


P^ 


Andante. 


BE 


-^     04 


5^^ 
*-»-*- 


i== 


-i=^k»- 


u»«-=-* 


-1 — p 


Piano- 
Forte. 


-# — *- 


I        ! 


=*=i«= 


*> 


gfe 


I 

I 

j!ZL 


5= 


■a- 


I 


■f f~w 


-*. — I'd 


^      >" 


# 


^3g 


*-»- 


g^g 


5     r     »  h*^  : 


:^=^ 


:*=*: 


own  I        fond    -    ly  favour  -  ed 

way,  A    -    way       from  love  and 


r.  When  first    .    .  .     you  court -ed       me,      I 
2.     O      then  ...      for  -  e  -  ver      haste    a 


you  ; 
me  ; 


Ap- 
Go 


^=^= 


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m 


»  *     s 


-&*-*- 


=£2= 


-F — r~P 


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A. 


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^=4£ 


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—m, — 


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U-1    U- 


-h 


-  pa  -    -    rent  worth  and        high      re  -  nown        Made      me        be    -  lieve      you  true, Donald. 

seek    ...  a    heart  that's        like    your    own,        And      come      no      more        to  me,  .....  Donald. 


*    0   m 


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1 — 1     IL^ 


r    r  *  r  r  -*_ 


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I 


Each        vir  -  tue 

For         I'll      re 


then 
serve 


seem'd 
my 


to 

self 


a 
a 


dorn 

lone 


The 
For 


man 
one 


es 

that's 


teem'd 
more 


by 
like 


1       1 


r    * 


*£=*= 


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DONALD. 


36S 


I 


P^ 


'XZJMl 


3= 


g==i 


r  *  j 


^ 


3S: 


3T=5t 


me, 
me, 


But 
If 


now 
such 


the  mask's    thrown        off 
a        one  I  can 


I 

not 


scorn 
find. 


^ 


3t±^ 


J   •     * 


*     0 


^-+—T 


^=: 


To 
I'll 


I 


«Q_J_ 


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■^_ "_>       J 


:£=: 


-s»- — g=i — g 


-*-r-y- 


25 


--— a- 


waste     one        thought    on 
fly      from        love        and 


7 — 1 1 1 r~a : 

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thee, Donald. 


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366 


LOCK  THE  DOOR,  LARISTON. 

Words  by  J  AMES  Hogg.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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Lou  -  ther    comes    on  ; 
fleet  -  foot    -    ed    grey ; 


The        Arm  -  strongs  are      fly 
Hed    -   ley    and    How 


ing,    the  wi  -  dows     are      cry    -    ing,     The 

ard  there,     Man    -  dell    and    Win  -  der  -  mere  ; 


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tie-town's    bur    -  ning,  And  O    -    li    -   ver's  gone, 

the    door,     La    -    ris  -  ton,        hold    them      at      bay. 


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LOCK    THE    DOOR,    LARISTON. 


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■    on  plumes      bob       on      the      sky ; 
can  -  die       gleam     in      thine      eye  ? 


high        on      the      wea  -  ther    gleam,      See        how    the      Sax 
El     -   liott      of        La   -    ris   -   ton,      Why       does    the       joy 


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Yoe  -  man  and    car-  bin-eer,     Bill  -  man  and  hal  -  ber-dier,  Fierce    is  the    fo  -  ray,  and     far    is      the    cry. 
bold    bor  -  der   ran  -  ger,   be  -  ware      of   thy  dan  -  ger,  Thy    foes     are  re  -  lent-less,  de  -  ter-min'd  and  nigh. 


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III. 

Jock  Elliott  raised  up  his  steel  bonnet  and  lookit, 
His  hand  grasped  the  sword  with  a  nervous  embrace, 
Oh  welcome  brave  foeman,  on  earth  there  are  no  men 
More  gallant  to  meet  in  the  foray  or  chase  ; 
Little  know  you  of  the  hearts  I  have  hidden  here, 
Little  know  you  of  the  moss-trooper's  might ; 
Inihope  and  Sorbie,  true  Sundhope  and  Millbum  too, 
Gentle  in  manners  but  lions  in  fight. 

IV. 

I  have  Mangerton,  Ogilvie,  Raeburn,  and  Netherbie, 

Old  Sim  of  Whittram,  and  all  his  array  ; 

Come  all  Northumberland,  Teesdale,  and  Cumberland, 

Here  at  the  Breaken  tow'r  end  the  affray.' 

Scowled  the  broad  sun  o'er  the  links  o'  green  Liddesdale, 

Red  as  the  beacon  light  tipt  he  the  wold, 

Many  a  bold  martial  eye,  mirror'd  that  morning  sky, 

Never  more  oped  on  his  orbit  of  gold. 


Shrill  was  the  bugle's  note,  dreadful  the  warrior's  shout, 
Lances  and  halberts  in  splinters  were  borne  ; 
Helmet  and  hauberk  then  braved  the  claymore  in  vain, 
Buckler  and  armlet  in  shivers  were  shorn. 
See  how  they  wane,  the  proud  file  of  the  Windermere, 
Howard  ah  !  woe  to  thy  hopes  of  the  day, 
Hear  the  rude  welkin  rend,  while  the  Scots'  shouts  ascend, 
'  Elliott  of  Lariston,  Elliott  for  aye.' 


368 


AFTON   WATER. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Composed  and  Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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1.  Flow      gent   -    ly,      sweet     Af-ton,     a   -   mong  thy    green      braes,      Flow       gent  -  ly,     I'll   sing  thee      a 

2.  How      lof     -     ty,     sweet     Af-ton,    thy        neigh-bour  -  ing        hills,       Far        mark'd  with  the    cour- ses      of 


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song  in     thy  praise  ;  My  Ma    -    ry's       a  -  sleep      by        thy     mur   -   mur  -  ing         stream,       Flow 

clear  winding    rills,      There        dai     -     ly  I      wan  -  der       as  noon  ri  -  ses       high,  My 


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gent    -    ly,    sweet   Af  -  ton,     dis    -     turb    not      her        dream.       Thou      stock-dove,  whose    e  -  cho        re     - 
flocks    and      my     Ma  -  ry's    sweet       cot       in       my  eye.  How        plea-  sant       thy  banks  and    green 


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AFTON    WATER. 


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low,        Where  wild    in        the  woodland     the        prim   -     ro  -   ses   blow, 


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oft,  as  mild  ev'  -  ning    sweeps        o     -    ver      the         lea, 

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Mary    and  me. 


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III. 

Thy  crystal  stream,  Afton,  how  lovely  it  glides, 
And  winds  by  the  cot  where  my  Mary  resides, 
How  wanton  thy  waters  her  snowy  feet  lave, 
As  gath'ring  sweet  flow'rets  she  stems  thy  clear  wave. 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  among  thy  green  braes, 
Flow  gently,  sweet  river,  the  theme  of  my  lays  ; 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream, 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  disturb  not  her  dream. 


THE  ROWAN  TREE.* 


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Words  by  Baroness   Nairne. 


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in        simmer       time        wi'        a' 


be    dear     to 
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me  ! 
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Thy  leaves     were     aye         the      first  o'     Spring,     thy  flow'rs      the     Sim  -  mer's       pride ;  There 

On     thy         fair     stem      were     mo    -    ny    names,     which  now       nae    mair  I  see,  But 

.J! 


*  Inserted  by  the  kind  permission  of  the  Proprietors  of  the  Copyright,  Messrs.  Paterson  and  Sons,  Edinburgh. 


THE    ROWAN  TREE 


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We  sat  aneath  thy  spreading  shade,  the  bairnies  round  thee  ran, 
They  pu'd  thy  bonnie  berries  red,  and  necklaces  they  Strang  ; 
My  mither,  oh  !  I  see  her  still,  she  smiled  our  sports  to  see, 
Wi'  little  Jeanie  on  her  lap,  and  Jamie  at  her  knee. 

O  rowan  tree ! 


IV. 

Oh  !  there  arose  my  father's  prayer,  in  holy  evening's  calm, 
How  sweet  was  then  my  mither' s  voice  in  the  martyr's  psalm ! 
Now  a'  are  gane  !  we  meet  nae  mair  aneath  the  rowan  tree, 
But  hallowed  thoughts  around  thee  turn  o'  hame  and  infancy. 

O  rowan  tree ! 


37* 


Voice. 


MEET  ME  ON  THE  GOWAN  LEA. 


Words  by  W.  CAMERON. 


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Music  by  MATHEW  WILSON. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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We'll  join  our  love-notes  to  the  breeze, 
That  sighs  in  whispers  through  the  trees; 
And  a'  that  twa  fond  hearts  can  please 
Will  be  our  sang,  dear  Mary. 
Meet  me,  &c. 

IV. 

There  shall  ye  sing  the  sun  to  rest, 
While  to  my  faithful  bosom  prest, 
Then  wha  sae  happy,  wha  sae  blest, 
As  me  and  my  dear  Mary. 
Meet  me,  &c. 


374 


WHERE  THE  HIGHLAND  TARTANS  WAVE. 


Words  by  John  Pettigrew. 


Music  composed  and  arranged  by  T.  S.  GleAdhiLL. 


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Men      are  found  en  -  dow'd   with  feeling,       Love     and  friendship        e    -  ver    crave 
Haughty    kings  and      ar  -  mies    crushing,       Firm    and  faith  -  ful  to     the      last, 


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home      in     ev'   -  ry  lone   -    ly  shieling,      'Mongst  the    rugged         mountains  wild 

High  -  land  swains  are      fore  -  most  rush  -  ing.        Heed  -  less    of    the       sword  or    spear, 


Sadden'd  hearts  may 
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dead      and    go  -  ry,  Stal  -  wart  men,    un  -  known    to      fear,       For  -  ward  rush      to        death     or     glo  -  ry. 


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WHERE   THE    HIGHLAND   TARTANS   WAVE. 


275 


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Where      the    High -land       tar    -    tans      wave,        Love        and  friend -ship        join 


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III. 

'Mongst  the  bonnie  fern-clad  braes 

Peerless  maidens,  fair  and  youthful, 
Free  and  guileless,  spend  their  days, 

Artless,  winning,  kind,  and  truthful. 
Some,  for  sake  of  wealth  and  fame, 

O'er  the  ocean  gang  a  roamin' ; 
'Mongst  the  heath  I'll  find  a  hame, 

There  I'll  live  until  life's  gloamin'. 
Where  the  Highland  tartans,  &o 


$76 


OUR  AIN  AULD  HAME. 


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i.  Ance  mair    hae   we  met,  then  happy    let  us  be  ; 

2.    In  summer  when  the  gow- ans  had  clad      il  -  ka  brae, 


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When  free  frae  the  schule    we  hae  join'd  in  the  play,    Or 

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wa'       wi'   the  care        of     the  world   and     its  fame,  While  we  sing  with  merry  hearts      of  our    ain         auld   hame. 
sought    out    the  nest       o'    the    black  -  bird  and  wren,     O         hap  -  py  were  the  days       at   our    ain        auld    hame. 


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We  hae  play'd   at   the  shin  -  ty  and  play'd  at  the  ba' :  We  hae  wrest  -led  andrun,    yes,  and  jump  -  ed    an' a';  While  the 


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ken  they'll  no  dispute  it,        tho'  this  for  her  I  claim  :         The  fair  -  est  neuk  in  a'  the  land,  our  ain        auld    hame. 
aula  folkswouldlaugh  as  they  prais'd  ilka    ane,         And  hop'd  they  might  be  spar'd  to      our  ain        auld    hame. 

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Our     ain  auld        hame,  Our     ain  auld        hame,     There's  no         a  neuk  in      a'        the  land  Like  our 

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In  the  lang  winter  nights,  when  the  frosts  and  the  snaw 

Close  around  the  fireside  compelled  us  to  draw  ; 
Wi'  mony  a  sang  and  joke  o'  the  days  that  were  gane, 

We  spent  the  happy  nights  round  our  ain  hearthstane. 
But  now  thae  days  are  gane,  and  we'll  never  see  them  mair, 

While  frae  the  bairn  we're  grown  up,  the  lot  o'  man  to  share  ; 
But  wherever  we  wander  we'll  aye  be  the  same, 

And  keep  a  warm  heart  to  our  ain  auld  hame. 
Our  ain  auld  hame,  &c. 


378 


I  WINNA  GANG  BACK  TO  MY  MAMMY  AGAIN. 


Voice. 


Words  by  Richard  Gall. 


Music  composed  and  arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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na    gang  back       to      my        mam  -  my      a    -    gain, 


I  win 

Young  John   -   nie  cam'  down       i'      the       gloam  -   in'    to 


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flew      wi'       my      lad     -    die    o'er 


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mea  -  dow    an'      glen, 


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aught  years  and  ten,  But  I'll  ne  -  ver  gang  back  to  my  mammy  again, 
let  mammy  ken,"     An'  I  flew  wi'  my  lad  -  die  o'er  meadow  an'  glen. 


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He  ca'd  me  his  dawtie,  his  dearie,  his  doo, 
An'  pressed  hame  his  words  wi'  a  smack  o'  my  mou' ; 
While  I  fell  on  his  bosom,  heart  flichtered  an'  fain', 
An'  sighed  out  "  O  Johnnie,  I'll  aye  be  your  ain." 
While  I  fell  on  his  bosom,  &c. 

IV. 

Some  lasses  will  talk  to  the  lads  wi'  their  e'e, 
Yet  hanker  to  tell  what  their  hearts  really  dree  ; 
Wi'  Johnnie  I  stood  upon  nae  steppin'-stane, 
Sae  I'll  never  gang  back  to  my  mammy  again. 
Wi'  Johnnie  I  stood,  &c. 


For  many  lang  years  sin'  I  played  on  the  lea, 
My  mammy  was  kind  as  a  mither  could  be  ; 
I've  held  by  her  apron  these  aught  years  an'  ten, 
But  I'll  never  gang  back  to  my  mammy  again. 
I've  held  by  her  apron,  &c. 


2B 


j8o 


THE  BOWLING  BRAES. 


Words  by  Andrew  Park. 


Voice. 


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2.  The    Bowling  braes,  the 


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Bowling    braes,  That  rise     in         beauty     o'er  the  Clyde, 
Bowling    braes,    In  -  spire   me    with  re  -  viv  -  ing  joy, 


Where  oft      in    youth    I've  gath  -   er'd     slaes,  With 
And    when  I     tread    your  sha   -     dy        ways,  I 


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eye    of  joy  and  heart  of    pride  ; 
feel     as  cheerful  as      a      boy. 


Still    dear    to    me    in       ri  *  -   per  years,  Your    ver  -  nal  steeps  en-  tic-  ing 
From  dark  Dumbuck  to       Fris  -   ky  Hall,    From  sweet      Dunglass  to  Bowling 


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I        love  your  pathways  one        and    all,     A  -  mong  your  fair-y  haunts   to      stray. 


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THE    BOWLING  BRAES. 


381 


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The     Bowling  braes,   the  Bowling  braes,  That  rise  in     beauty  o'er  the  Clyde, 


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gath  -  er'd  slaes,  With  eye    of  joy  and  heart  of  pride.       .    The  Bowling        braes,  The  Bowling        braes,         The 


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The  Bowling  braes,  the  Bowling  braes, 
Stern  Winter  scarce  has  power  to  harm, 
But  decked  in  Summer's  sunny  blaze, 
Oh !  then  they  have  a  double  charm. 
Their  woody  sides  'mid  zephyrs  swing, 
Each  hill  its  sylvan  love  displays  ; 
And  there  the  sweetest  minstrels  sing, 
Among  the  bonnie  Bowling  braes. 
The  Bowling  braes,  &c 


382 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  LAND. 


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Author  of  words  unknown. 


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2.  Where  -  e         -         ver I     wan       -       der,  sweet  isle       of 


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THE  SLOGAN  OF  FREEDOM. 


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Words  by  James  Reid, 


Music  by  J.  Fulcher. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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lav'rocks       and    lin  -  ties       their   first     love  -  lilts     singing, 
fro  -  lie       or       re  -  vel        was    held   with  -  out        me, 


An'    the      wee      mer   -     ry        rob     -     in,     be 
Life    was  bricht      as         the        lift  on       a 


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side     our        door    -  stanc, 
clear  sum     -   mer       day, 


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THE    SLOGAN   OF    FREEDOM. 


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There   was  gladness      and    glee        a  -  mong  bird,  beast,    and  men,    When  the  slo  -  gan       of      free  -  dom    rang 
And    the  love      o'        my    Peg    -    gy    had    just    blest    me,     when    The  proud  slo  -  gan       of      free  -  dom    rang 


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through  our     auld    glen  ;    There  was    glad  -  ness     and  glee 
through  our     auld    glen ;       An'    the    love       o'       my    Peg 


a  -  mong      bird,  beast,     and  men,      When    the 
gy     had        just  blest       me,   when       The    proud 


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slo  -  gan       of      free  -  dom    rang  through  our       auld  glen, 
slo  -  gan       of      free  -  dom    rang  through  our       auld  glen. 


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Clear  and  loud  pealed  the  sound  o'er  heath,  valley,  and  wold, 
An'  our  border  lads  raise  like  their  grandsires  of  old, 

When  ilka  peel  turrit  its  beacon  light  bore, 

They  changed  their  herds'  crook  for  the  spear  or  claymore  ; 

Naught  dismayed  them,  or  stayed  them,  or  daunted  them,  when 
The  proud  slogan  o'  freedom  rang  through  our  auld  glen. 


IV. 

Though  my  father  looked  stern,  I  kent  weel  he  was  sad, 
An'  my  mither  grat  sair  for  her  ne'er-do-weel  lad  ; 

An'  thro'  the  dim  tears  of  my  Peggy's  blue  e'en 
The  light  o'  her  heart-love  could  hardly  be  seen  : 

I  fand  nae  misgiein',  nae  heart  sinkin',  when 
The  proud  slogan  o'  freedom  rang  through  our  auld  glen 


Nor  yet  will  I  yield,  tho'  the  path  to  renown, 
An'  the  wreath  of  distinction,  an'  victory's  crown 

Has  been  bloody  and  lang,  and  may  bloodier  be 
Ere  another  day's  dawn  on  the  hill-taps  we  see  : 

I  will  fight  for  my  country  as  cheerfu'  as  when 
The  proud  slogan  o'  freedom  rang  through  our  auid  glen. 


JS6 


THE  COURTIN'  TIME. 


Words  by  Robert  Nicoll. 


Music  by  J.  P.  CLARK. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  "Our  Jean    likes  the  morn  -  ing  when    milk    -   in'   the  kye, 

2.  The  sun      quiet  -  ly  slips      o'er    the         tap       o'    the  hill, 


And  May      thinks  the  noon  -   tide  gang 

An'  the    plov      -      er    its  gloamin'  -  'sang 


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shrill  ;  Syne      dim  -  ness  comes  glid 


are      sae      soft 
in'    where  day 


and    se  -  rene       As     the 
light    has  been,    And  the 


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hours    when    the      lads 
dew      brings  the      lads 


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come    a      court    -  in         at    een, 
who  come  court  -   in'        at     e'en, 


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A        court  -  in'        at      e'en,        come    a 
A        court  -  in'         at      e'en,         come     a 


THE  COURTIN'   TIME. 


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cour     -     tin'     at     e'en,      As       the  hours  when  the      Jails  come     a      court   -   in'        at      e'en, 

cour     -    tin'     at     e'en,     And     the  dew    brings  the      lads  who  come  court  -  in'        at      e'en. 


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in. 

When  men-folk  are  crackin'  o'  ousen  and  lands, 

And  the  kimmers  at  spinnin'  are  try  in'  their  hands, 

I  see  at  the  window  the  face  o'  a  frien', 

An'  I  ken  that  my  joe's  come  a  courtin'  at  e'en, 

A  courtin'  at  e'en,  come  a  courtin'  at  e'en, 

An'  I  ken  that  my  joe's  come  a  courtin'  at  e'en. 


^88 


OUR  BONNIE  SCOTS  LADS. 


Words  by  ROBERT  TAnnahill. 


Music  composed  and  arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
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i.   Our     bon  -  nie        Scots  lads,        in     their  green    tar  -  tan    plaids,     Their   blue        belt  -  ed      bon    -    nets  and 
2.  My      heart  sunk        wi'       wae         on      the  wear    -    i     -    fu'       day,      When     torn       from    my       bo    -    som    they 


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bon    -  nie    young  lad    -    die    was         fair    -    est     of         a', 
red     cheeks  were    wet         wi'     the  tears      that    did       fa'. 


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His      cheeks    were    as       red  as      the 

Ah!         Har    -   ry,    my      love,        tho'     thou 


OUR    BONNIE    SCOTS    LADS. 


389 


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sweet     hea  -  ther      bell, 
ne'er  should'st  re    -    turn, 

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red        west  -  em     cloud 
life's        lat  -  est     hour 


look  -  ing      down         on    the      snaw,        His 
I        thy        ab    -   sence  will   mourn  ;     And 


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low      hair         o'er    his     braid  shoul-ders       fell,       And    the       e'en         o'       the       lass     -     es      were 
shall    fade        like      a       leaf        on       the       tree,       Ere      my    heart      spare   ae  thought      on        a  - 


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fix'd      on     him      a'. 
-    nith  -  er    like    thee. 


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39° 


MY  BONNIE  DARK-EYED  DEARIE. 


Words  by  John  Pettigrew. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


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1.  The  sun        has  set,     and 

2.  Young  Mag  -  gie's  scarcely 


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jloamin'        grey      Hangs  o'er      the      earth         sae    dreary, 
seven      -     teen,         Her  smile    like      sim    -     mer  weather  ; 


The  pait   -   ricks  cry  while     on  my        way         To 
Wi'   ra    -    ven  hair  and    laughin'        e'en,      And 


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meet   my     dark  -  eyed  dearie, 
cheeks  like   bloom  -  in'  heather. 


The     an     -    gry  wind        a  -  mang  the    trees    .Keeps  sooch  -  in'      sad       an' 
At  kirk  or  mzr   -   ket    there   are    nane  Whose  smiles  are     half     sae 


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eerie ;  But     what  care  I 

cheery ;  And    mony  a    chiel 


though  cauld's  the   breeze,  When  gaun      to   see      my      dearie, 
has         sought    in     vain        To    woo       the  dark-eyed     dearie. 


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MY   BONNIE   DARK-EYED    DEARIE. 


39i 


Air. 
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Bass. 


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For    Ma? 


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life 

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lo'e        the  dark-eyed        dear  -  ie. 

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life         'twill  be 


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in. 

Young  Maggie  wears  nae  pridefu'  air, 

Nor  heart  that's  fause  and  hollow  ; 
Her  modest  ways  and  virtues  rare, 

A'  ither  maids  might  follow. 
Wi'  such  a  jewel  for  a  wife, 

Nae  man  could  ever  weary  ; 
She'll  cheer  me  through  the  vale  of  life, 

My  bonnie  dark-eyed  dearie. 

For  Maggie's  artless,  &c. 


392 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


THE  STANDARD  ON  THE  BRAES  0'  MAR. 


Words  by  A.  Laing. 


Arranged  from  old  air,  by  T.  S.  GLEALHlf.L. 


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1.  The       Stan  -  dard      on         the 

2.  Wha      wad  -  na      join        our 


braes     o'        Mar       Is  up        and  stream  -  ing  rare 

no    -  ble      chief     The      Drummond     and    Glen     -     ga 


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on       Loch    -     na   -    garr        Are      sound  -   ing  long  and 

ray,       Rol      -    lo,       Keith,      Pan  -  mure,       and  gal      -      lant 


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THE  STANDARD  ON  THE  BRAES  O'  MAR. 


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bon-nets        blue,      Wi'        belt   -    ed      plaids 
-  gil-vray's       men,     Strath  -    al    -  lan's    men, 


and       bur    -    nish'd  blades,     Are      com  -  in'  late  and 

the       low    -      land  men  Of       Cal  -  Ian    -       der  and 


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Fy,  Donald,  up,  and  let's  awa', 

We  canna  langer  parley ; 
When  Jamie's  back  is  at  the  wa', 

The  lad  we  lo'e  sae  dearly. 
We'll  go,  we'll  go,  and  meet  the  foe, 

And  fling  the  plaid,  and  swing  the  blade ; 
And  forward  dash,  and  hack,  and  smash. 

And  flev  the  German  carlie. 


394 


THE  LASS  0'  BALLOCHMYLE. 


Words  by  Robert  Burns. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


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i.  'Twas       ev'n  —  the    dew 
2.    With       care  -  less  step 


y 
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fields  were  green,   On    ev'    -    ry      blade 
on  -  ward  stray'd,  My  heart      re  -  joiccd 


the  pearls       hang ;  The 

in  nature's      joy,     When 


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ze     -    phyr      wan      -      ton'd        round  the      bean,      And    bore         its         fra 
mus     -     ing        in  a  love  -   ly      glade,        A     maid    -    en        fair 


giant      sweets     a  -    lang ; 
I         chane'd    to       spy ; 


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In  e^      -      ry  glen 

Her  look        was  like 


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morn 


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THE   LASS   O'   BALLOCHMYLE. 


395 


seem'd  the  while,  Ex       -       cept 
ver  -  nal    smile,  Per     -       fee 


where     green   -   wood        e       -      choes     rang       A  -  mang    the    braes        o' 
tion        whis     -   per'd       pass    -    ing  by :       Behold       the      lass  o' 


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III. 

Fair  is  the  morn  in  flowery  May, 
And  sweet  is  night  in  Autumn  mild. 
When  roving  thro'  the  garden  gay, 
Or  wand'ring  in  a  lonely  wild  ; 
But  woman,  Nature's  darling  child  ! 
There  all  her  charms  she  does  compile  ; 
EVn  there  her  other  works  are  foiled 
r>y  the  bonnie  lass  o'  Ballochmyle. 


IV. 

O,  had  she  been  a  country  maid, 
And  I  the  happy  country  swain, 
Tho'  sheltered  in  the  lowest  shed 
That  ever  rose  in  Scotland's  plain  ! 
Thro'  weary  winter's  wind  and  rain, 
With  joy,  with  rapture,  I  would  toil ; 
And  nightly  to  my  bosom  strain 
The  bonnie  lass  o'  Ballochmyle. 


Then  pride  might  climb  the  slippery  steep, 
Where  fame  and  honours  lofty  shine  ; 
And  thirst  of  gold  might  tempt  the  deep, 
Or  downward  seek  the  Indian  mine  ; 
Give  me  the  cot  below  the  pine, 
To  tend  the  flocks  or  till  the  soil, 
And  every  day  have  joys  divine 
With  the  bonnie  lass  o'  Ballochmvle. 


2C 


396 


RAB  RORYSON'S  BONNET. 

Words  by  Robert  Tannahill.  Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


I 


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Ye'll       a'  hae  heard  tell  o' Rab  Ro  -  ryson's  bonnet,  Ye'll     a'    hae  heard  tell    o'  Rab    Ro  -  ry  -  son's  bonnet,  'f  was 


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no      for  it  -  sel','twas  the  head  that  was  in  it,   Gar'd     a'       bodies     talk      o'  Rab     Ro  -  ryson's    bonnet. 


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RAB  RORYSON'S  BONNET. 


397 


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i.    This      bonnet    that  theekit    his    won  -  der-fu'  head,  Was  his  shel  -  ter  in    winter,    in      simmer    his  shade;  And  at 
2.  Wi'  aroundro-sy    tap  like  a      mic  -  kle  black  boyd,  It  was  slouch'djusta  kenning  on       ith-er  hand  side;  Some  main- 


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kirk,    or  at    mar-ket,      or       bri  -  dais,  I        ween,  A      braw    gawcier  bon  -  net  there    ne    -   ver  was    seen, 

tain'd     it  was  black,  some  maintain'd     it  was  blue,    It      had   something  o'    baith,   as       a        bo  -  dy    may  trow, 


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in. 

But,  in  sooth,  I  assure  you,  for  aught  that  I  saw, 
Still  his  bonnet  had  naething  uncommon  ava' ; 
Though  the  whole  parish  talked  o'  Rab  Roryson's  bonnet, 
'Twas  a'  for  the  marvellous  head  that  was  in  it. 
Ye'll  a'  hae  heard  tell,  &c. 


IV. 

That  head,  let  it  rest,  it  is  now  in  the  mools, 
Though  in  life  a'  the  warld  beside  it  were  fools  ; 
Yet  o'  what  kind  o'  wisdom  his  head  was  possessed, 
Nane  e'er  kenn'd  but  himsel',  sae  there's  nane  that  will  miss't. 
Ye'll  a'  hae  heard  tell,  &c. 


But  there's  some  still  in  life  wha  eternally  blame, 
Wha  on  buts  and  on  ifs  rear  their  fabric  o'  fame  ; 
To  all  such  I  inscribe  this  most  beautiful  sonnet, 
To  crown  them  the  heirs  o'  Rab  Roryson's  bonnet. 
Ye'll  a'  hae  heard  tell,  &c. 


398 


Voice. 


Piano- 
forte. 


NAEBODY  KENS  YE. 


Words  by  Robert  L.  Malone. 


I 


Music  by  Samuel  Barr. 
Arranged  by  T.  S.  GLEADHILL. 


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i.Areye    do  -  in' ought  weel,  Are  ye    thriv-in',my  man?    Be    thank-fu'to     fortune     for        a'     that  she  sendsyejYe'llhae 
2.  The        cro  -  ny  wha  stuck  like  a     burr    to  your  side,    An'  vow'd  wi'  his  heart's  dearest  bluid    to  befriend  ye  ;  A 


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plen  -  ty     o'     friends  a)-e  to      of  -   fer  their  han',  When  ye    need-na  their  coun  -  te  -  nance,  a' 
five      guinea    note,    man,  will  part      ye  as    wide      As  if       o  -  ceans  and  de  -   serts  were     ly 


bo  -  dy  kens  ye. 
in'    between  ye. 


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A'  -  bo-dy    kens  ye, 
Nae-bo-dy    kens  ye, 


a'  -  bo-dy    kens  ye,  When  ye  need-na  their  coun-te-nance,  a'  -   bo-dy  kens  ye. 
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But  wait    ye       a     wee,     till  the     tide     talcs  a     turn,       An'  a    - 

It's  the     sil  -  ler  that  does't,man,the     sil  -    ler,  the  siller,     It's  the 


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wa'    wi' the   ebb  .drift  the      fa  -vours  she  lends  ye,  Cauld     friendship  will  then  leave  ye   lane  -  ly  to     mourn,When  ye 
sil  -  ler  that  breaks  ye,  an'   mak's  ye,   an'  men's  ye  ;When  your  pockets  are  troom,  an'  nae    wab    i'  the      loom,     Then 

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need    a'    their  friendship,then    nae  -  bo-dy   kens  ye. 
tak     ye     my  word  for't,there's  nae  -  bo-dy   kens  ye. 


Nae -bo-dy  kens  ye, 
Nae  -  bo-dy  kens  ye, 


nae  -  bo-  dy  kens    ye,When  ye 
nae  -  bo-  dy  kens    ye,  Then 


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need    a'  their  friendship,  then  nae  -  bo-dy    kens  ye. 
tak'    ye    my  word  for't,there's  nae  -bo-dy    kens  ye. 


3.  But  think  nae  I  mean  that  a'  mankind  are  sae, 

It's  the  butterfly  friends  that  misfortune  should  fear  aye, 

There  are  friends  worth  the  name,  Guid  send  they  were  mae, 

Wha,  the  caulder  the  blast,  aye  the  closer  draw  near  ye. 

They  bodies  ken  ye,  &c. 


The  friends  wha  can  tell  us  our  fauts  to  our  face, 
But  aye  frae  our  faes  in  our  absence  defen'  us  ; 

Leeze  me  on  sic  hearts  !  o'  life's  pack  he's  the  ace 
Wha  scorns  to  disown  us  when  naebody  kens  us. 
They  bodies  ken  ye,  &c 


40o 


Voice. 


BEHAVE  YOURSEL'  BEFORE  FOLK. 


Words  by  Alex.  Rodger. 


Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 


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Be  -  have  your-sel'    be  -  fore    folk,  Be 


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have    your-sel'     be  -  fore      folk ;  An'    din  -  na      be      sae  rude     to    me,    As      kiss     me  sae      be  -  fore 


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-  fore         folk,      Be  -  have       your-  s'el'        be  -  fore       folk,  What  -  e'er         ye     do       when      out       o'     view,     Be 

-  fore         folk,      Be-  have       your- sel'        be  -  fore       folk,     Nor       gie        the  tongue       o'       auld      or    young    Oc  • 


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It's  no  through  hatred  o'  a  kiss, 
That  I  sae  plainly  tell  ye  this  ; 
But  losh,  I  take  it  sair  amiss 
To  be  sae  teased  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk  ; 
When  we're  our  lane  ye  may  tak  ane, 
But  feint  a  ane  before  folk. 

IV. 

I'm  sure  wi'  you  I've  been  as  free 
As  ony  modest  lass  should  be  ; 
But  yet  it  doesna  do  to  see 
Sic  freedom  used  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk  ; 
I'll  ne'er  submit  again  to  it, 
Sae  mind  ye  that — before  folk. 


Ye  tell  me  that  my  face  is  fair  ; 
It  may  be  sae — I  dinna  care  ; 
But  ne'er  again  gar't  blush  sae  sair 
As  ye  hae  done  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk; 
Nor  heat  my  cheeks  wi'  your  mad  freaks, 
But  aye  be  douce  before  folk. 

VI. 

Ye  tell  me  that  my  lips  are  sweet, 
Sic  tales,  I  doubt,  are  a'  deceit ; 
At  ony  rate  it's  hardly  meet 
To  pree  their  sweets  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk ; 
Gin  that's  the  case,  there's  time  and  place, 
But  surely  no  before  folk. 


VII. 

But  gin  ye  really  do  insist 
That  I  should  suffer  to  be  kissed, 
Gae,  get  a  license  frae  the  priest, 
And  mak  me  yours  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk. 
Behave  yoursel'  before  folk  ; 
And  when  we're  ane,  baith  flesh  and  bane 
Ye  may  tak  ten  before  folk. 


402 


WHEN  YOU  AND  I  WERE  YOUNG,  MAGGIE. 


Words  by  Geo.  W.  Johnson. 


Voice. 


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Arranged  by  T.  S.  Gleadhill. 
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2.    A       ci  -  ty       so   si  -  lent  and 


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hill,       Maggie,      To        watch  the       scene  be     -      low ; 
lone,      Maggie,Where  the  young,  and  the  gay,  and  the  best, 


The  creek  and   the  creak-ing  old    mill,     Maggie,   As 
In     pol-ish'd  white  mansions  of  stone,    Maggie,  Have 


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we  used    to  long     a      -      go. 
eachfound  a  place  of  rest, 


The  greengroveisgonefromthe   hill,       Maggie,  Where  first  the  dai    -  sies 

Is   builtwherethebirdsusedto  play,      Maggie,   And  join  in     the  songs  that  were 


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They  say  that  I  am  feeble  with  age,  Maggie, 

My  steps  are  less  sprightly  than  then, 
My  face  is  a  well-written  page,  Maggie, 

But  time  alone  was  the  pen. 
They  say  we  are  aged  and  gray,  Maggie, 

As  sprays  by  the  white  breakers  flung, 
But  to  me  you're  as  fair  as  you  were,  Maggie, 

When  you  and  I  were  young. 


GLOSSARY. 


The  ch  and  gh  have  always  the  guttural  sound.  The  sound  of  the  English  diphthong  oo  is  commonly  spelled  ou.  The  French  u,  a  sound 
which  often  occurs  in  the  Scottish  language,  is  marked  oo,  or  ui.  The  a  in  genuine  Scottish  words,  except  when  forming  a  diphthong, 
or  followed  by  an  e  mute  after  a  single  consonant,  sounds  generally  like  the  broad  English  a  in  wall.  The  Scottish  diphthong  ae  always, 
and  ea  very  often,  sound  like  the  French  c  masculine.     The  Scottish  diphthong  ey  sounds  like  the  Latin  ei. 


A. 
ABEIGH,  at  a  shy  distance 
Ahint,  behind 
Aiblins,  perhaps 
Aim,  iron 
Airt,  direction    . 
Ajee,  ajar;  to  one  side 
Arlepenny,  earnest  money 
Ase,  ashes 
Asklent,  askance 
Awmry,  a  small  cupboard 

B. 

BAN,  to  curse  mildly 
Bandster,  a  binder  of  sheaves 
Bang,  to  beat 

Barley  bree,  ale  or  whiskey 
Baudrons,  a  cat 
Bauk,  crossbeam 
Bawbee,  a  halfpenny 
Bawsand,  having  a  white  spot 

the  forehead 
Ben,  in 

Best  man,  bridesman 
Bicker,  a  wooden  dish 
Bide,  to  wait;  endure 
Bien,  comfortable 
Bigonet,  a  linen  cap 
Bike,  a  bee  or  wasp's  nest 
Bink,  a  bench;  seat 
Birk,  birch  tree 
Birkie,  a  mettlesome  fellow 
Birl,  to  toss  up 
Birr,  force;  noise 
Blaw,  to  blow;  boast 
Bletherin',  talking  idly 
Blink,  a  smiling  look 
Bobbin',  dancing 
Bogie,  bog 
Bonnie,  beautiful 
Boortree,  shrub  elder 
Brae,  hillock 
Brag,  to  boast 
Brank,  bright;  lively 
Brawlie,  very  well 
Braw,  fine;  handsome 
Breckans,  ferns 
Bree,  liquor 
Breeks,  breeches 


Brent,  smooth 

Brose,  stirabout 

Buckle  to,  get  married 

Bught,  a  penfold 

Bughtin'  time,  time  when  the  ewes 

are  milked 
Buskit,  dressed 
But-and-ben,  kitchen  and  parlour 


I 


CALLER,  fresh 

Camstairie,  froward;  perverse 

Cannie,  careful;  gentle 

Cantie,  cheerful 

Carle,  an  old  man 

Cauldrife,  chilly;  cold 

Cheep,  chirp 

Chiel,  fellow 

Clachan,  country  village 

Clag,  to  cover  w  th  mud 

Clash,  idle  talk 

Claymore,  broadsword 

Cleadin',  clothing 

Clishmaclaver,  idle  talk 

Clockin',  hatching 

Coft,  bought 

Cogie,  small  wooden  dish 

Coof,  simpleton 

Couthie,  loving;  affable 

Cosie,  comfortable 

Cowte,  a  colt 

Cower,  to  creep  together 

Crack,  to  converse 

Cramasie,  crimson 

Creel,  a  large  basket 

Creepie,  a  low  stool 

Croo,  hovel 

Croodle,  to  coo  as  a  dove 

Croon,  a  continuous  moan 

Crouse,  brisk;  lively,  courageous 

Crowdie,  oatmeal  and  cold  water 

Curtsie,  bending  of  the  body 

Cushat,  wood  pigeon 

Custock,  cabbage  stalk 

Cutty,  short 

D. 

DADDIE,  father 
Daffin'.  merriment 


Daft,  foolish 

Dang,  overcame 

Darn,  to  mend 

Daunder,  to  walk  slowly 

Dawtie,  term  of  endearment 

Deave,  to  deafen 

Deuk-dub,  a  pond  for  ducks 

Doited,  stupid 

Dook,  to  plunge 

Dool,  mourning 

Donard,  stupid 

Douce,  quiet;  sedate 

Doughty,  able 

Dowf,  melancholy;  exhausted 

Dowie,  dull;  spiritless 

Draible,  to  spill 

Dree,  to  bear 

Dringin',  singing  in  a  slow  manner 

Droukit,  wet 

Drouth,  thirst 

Drumly,  muddy 

Dub,  a  puddle 

Duds,  clothes 

Duddie,  ragged 

Dunts,  lumps 

Dykeside,  an  enclosure;  wall 


E. 
EERIE,  frighted,  dreading  spirits 
Eild,  old  age 
Ettle,  to  try 


FAIN,  glad 

Fashous,  troublesome 

Feckless,  weak 

Fee,  to  hire 

Fen',  to  keep  off 

Ferlie,  wonder 

Fidgin  fain,  very  desirous 

Flat,  scolded 

Fleg,  a  fright 

Fleechin',  fawning 

Flittin',  removal  of  furniture 

Flyte,  to  scold 

Forpit,  a  Scotch  measure 

Fou,  drunk 

Fraise,  cajoling 


G  ABB  IN',  speaking  pertly 

Gar,  to  make 

Gaucy,  jolly 

Gawky,  foolish 

Gear,  riches ;  dress 

Gee,  sulks 

Gilpie,  half-grown 

Gin,  if 

Girnin',  grinning 

Girr,  hoop 

Glaikit,  foolish 

Gleg,  sharp;  ready 

Glent,  gleam;  flash 

Glint,  to  peep ;  pass  quickly 

Glower,  to  stare 

Glum,  gloomy 

Gowan,  wild  daisy 

Gowd,  gold 

Gowk,  a  fool 

Gowpins,  large  handfuls 

Gravat,  necktie 

Gree,  victory 

Greet,  to  shed  tears 

Grip,  to  seize 

Gruesome,  loathsome 

Gutcher,  grandfather 


H. 

HADDEN,  stocking  of  a  farm 

Haffet,  the  temple 

Hallanshaker,  term  of  reproach 

Hansel,  luck  money 

Hap,  to  cover 

Happity,  lame;  hopping 

Harn,  very  coarse  linen 

Haud,  to  hold 

Hause-bane,  throat  bone 

Hawket  crummie,  white  cow 

Heezin',  elevating 

Heddle,  part  of  weaver's  loom 

Heigh,  high 

Heugh,  a  crag,  or  precipice 

Hiltie-skiltie,  in  rapid  succession 

Hirplin',  creeping 

Hirsel,  flock 

Hizzie,  a  romping  girl 

Hool,  husk,  or  shell 


GLOSSARY 

Hotldln  gray,  coarse  woollen  stuff 

M. 

S. 

Thirl,  to  thrill 

Hooly,  slowly ;  take  time 

MAILIN,  a  farm 

SARK,  shirt 

Thole,  to  suffer 

Howe,  hollow;  a  plain 

Maukin,  a  hare 

Saugh  tree,  willow  tree 

Thowless,  slack;  lazy 

Howlet,  an  owl 

Meddle,  to  make  acquaintance 

Scaithless,  without  damage 

Thraw,  to  twist 

Hurklin',  crouching ;  drawing  near 

Merle,  a  blackbird 

Scone,  a  kind  of  bread 

Thud,  a  heavy  dull  sound 

Husswyfskip,  housekeeping 

Mess  John,  a  clergyman 

Shanks,  legs 

Tine,  to  lose 

Minnie,  mother 

Shauchled,  misshapen 

Tint,  lost 

I. 

Mirk,  dark 

Shaw,  a  small  wood 

Tirl,  to  make  a  slight  noise;  to 

ILKA,  every 

Mittens,  gloves 

Sheughing,  trenching 

uncover 

Ingle  cheek,  chimney  corner 

Mools,  in  the  earth ;  buried 

Shiel,  shepherd's  shed 

Tittie,  female  cousin 

Moudiewort,  a  mole 

Shouther,  shoulder 

Tocher,  marriage  portion 

J- 

Muckle,  much 

Siccan,  such  like 

Toddlin',  tottering 

JAG,  to  prick 

Mutches,  head  djresses  for  females 

Siller,  money 

Toom,  empty 

Jaud,  jade 

Skeigh,  proud 

Touzy,  shaggy;  rough 

Jaupit,  bespattered 

N. 

Skellie,  squint 

Tow,  flax ;  a  rope 

Jink,  to  turn  quickly 

NAIL,  to  seize 

Skirl,  to  shriek 

Treadle,  part  of  weaver's  loom 

Jo,  lover 

Nap,  sleep 

Slae,  sloe 

Trig,  spruce 

Jouk,  to  run  in  and  oat 

Neuk,  corner 

Slee,  sly 

Tryst,  appointment 

Neist,  next 

Sleek,  sly 

Twine,  to  part 

K. 

Nieve,  the  fist 

Smiddy,  a  blacksmith's  shop 

KAIL,  broth 

Nippit,  pinched 

Smoor,  to  smother 

U. 

Kame,  to  comb 

Sneck,  latch  of  a  door 

UNCO,  strange,  very 

Kebbuck,  cheese 

0 

Snell,  bitter 

Kecklin',  cackling 

OWK'S  end,  end  of  the  week 

Snivel,  to  speak  through  the  nose 

W. 

Keek,  to  peep 

Owre,  too;  over 

Snooded,  the  hair  bound  with  a  fillet 

WAB.web 

Kent,  knew 

Owsen,  oxen 

Sonsie,  comely 

Wadna,  would  not 

Kimmer,  a  gossip 

P. 

Sough,  a  sigh 

Wale,  to  choose 

Kirn,  to  churn 

PAIDLE,  to  wade";  splash  about 

Souple  snout,  cunning;  impudenct 

Walie,  plump ;  large 

Kirtle,  a  short  upper  gown 

Pake,  beat 

Speldercd,  lying  at  full  length 

Waly,  exclamation  of  distress 

Kist,  chest 

Pappit,  dropped 

Spence,  inner  apartment 

Wamblin',  turning  upside  down 

Knowe,  a  round  hillock 

Parley,  speech 

Spier,  to  ask 

Wame,  the  belly 

Kurtch,  a  linen  cap 

Parochin,  parish 

Stack,  a  rick  of  corn 

Warlock,  a  wizard 

Kye,  cows 

Parritch,  oatmeal  pudding 

Stams,  stars 

Wat  ye,  do  you  know 

Pawkie,  cunning 

Steer,  uproar;  to  stir 

Waukrife,  wakeful 

L. 

Peasweep,  the  lapwing 

Sten',  to  spring;  leap 

Waur,  worse 

LAP,  did  leap 

Philabeg,  kilt 

Stot,  a  young  bull  or  ox 

Weal,  prosperity;  well 

Laith,  loth 

Pibroch,  bagpipe  war  song 

Stound,  a  numbing  blow 

Wean,  child 

Lauch,  laugh 

Pickle,  a  small  quantity 

Stoup,  a  \Lig  with  a  handle 

Wede,  withered 

Lave,  the  rest 

Plack,  old   Scottish  coin  of  small 

Stoure,  dust 

Wee,  little 

Laverock,  the  lark 

value 

Stoory,    sounding  hollow;    strong 

Weir,  to  herd ;  keep 

Lea  rig,  grassy  ridge 

Poortith,  poverty 

and  hoarse 

Weird,  fate 

Leal,  true 

Pouch,  a  pocket 

Stousy,  a  stout  child 

Whaup,  a  curlew 

Lear,  learning 

Pow,  the  head 

Stowed,  filled 

Whigmigmorum,  crotchets 

Lee-lang,  livelong 

Pree,  to  kiss ;  to  taste 

Strake,  to  take  hold 

Whiles,  sometimes 

Leeze  me,  expression  of  endearment 

Preen,  to  pin 

Streek,  to  stretch 

Whins,  furze  bushes 

Leish,  active;  clever 

Stumpy,  squat 

Whud,  large  piece 

Leugh,  did  laugh 

Q, 

Styme,  a  glimpse 

Wiggle,  to  wriggle 

Lilt,  tune ;  to  sing 

QUECFI,  bowl ;  bumper 

Sumph,  a  fool 

Williewaught,  a  hearty  draught  vt 

Link,  to  trip  along 

Queer,  strange 

Swankie,  a  strapping  fellow  or  girl 

any  drink 

Linn,  a  waterfall 

Quey,  a  cow  one  or  two  years  old 

Swats,  ale;  drink 

Wimple,  to  meandej 

Lintie,  a  linnet 

Swither,  hesitate  in  choice 

Winnock,  a  window 

Loanin',  place  of  milking 

R. 

Syne,  then 

Winsome,  comely 

Loof,  palm  of  the  hand 

RAP,  to  knock 

T. 

Wyte,  to  blame 

Loon,  a  fellow 

Rash,  a  rush 

TAG,  to  tie 

Lootin',  stooping 

Ravelin',  putting  out  of  order 

Tak'  tent,  to  be  cautious 

Y. 

Lowe,  a  flame 

Rax,  to  stretch ;  to  tetrh 

Tappit,  crested 

YADE,  horse 

Lowpin',  leaping 

Rig,  ridge 

Tapsalteerie,  topsy-turvy 

Yammer,  to  whine 

Lug,  the  ear 

Routh,  plenty 

Tassie,  drinking  cup 

Yett,  gate 

Luggie,  small  hooped  wooden  dish 

Rung,  a  cudgel 

Teddin',  spreading 

Yowl,  to  yel! 

Lyart,  silvery 

Runkled,  wrinkled 

Think  na  lang,  do  not  weary 

1  Yule  night  Christmas 

*J 


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