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youth of Nithsdale have danced, under the name of "Shaun truish Willighan." It is of course of highland descent.

HIGHLAND LASSIE.

The lawland maids go trig and fine,
But aft they're sour, and ever saucie:

Sae proud, they never can be kind,

Like my light-hearted highland lassie.

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Wha make their cheeks with patches mottie, I'd take my lassie in her gown,

Barefooted in her kilted coatie.

Beneath the broom or brekan bush,
'Whene'er I kiss and court my dautie,
I'm far o'er blithe to have a wish-
My flichterin heart gangs pittie-pattie.

O'er highest heathery hills I'll sten,
With cocket gun and ratches tentie,
To drive the deer out of the den,

And feast my lass on dishes dainty.

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And wha shall dare, by deed or word,
'Gainst her to wag a tongue or finger,
While I can draw my trusty sword,

Or frae my side whisk out a whinger?

The mountains clad in purple bloom,

And berries ripe, invite my treasure To range with me-let great folk gloom,

While wealth and pride confound their pleasure.

The "Highland Lassie" shares with Ramsay's "Highland Laddie" in many of the words of the ancient song, and they nearly divide the chorus in common between them:

O my bonnie bonnie highland lassie,-
My lovely smiling highland lassie !
May never care make thee less fair,

But bloom of youth aye bless my lassie!

It is printed in Allan's collection, without any notice of its author, of the state in which it was found, or of its antiquity; but it carries the stamp of the year 1724 about it, and resembles, in several places, the productions of Ramsay. The free and unrestrained love which this mountaineer admires corresponds well with the license of old in the north, when men led a roving and irregular life by the wild lakes, by the wild streams, and among the wilder hills. To feed their flocks among the glens and upon the mountains, and sing of the ancient freedom

VOL. III.

K

of the land and the exploits of their old heroes, was their chief occupation: their labour was little, and as little they loved it; their wants were few, and such as the arrow and the net readily supplied. I know not that the earth has any happier situations in her gift than this. Men exchange the plaiden sock for silken hose-water from the rock for wine from the cellar-and a bed of heather for a couch of down; and they look not more manly, feel not more refreshed, and sleep no sounder. Burns said-and the sensual wish was called by the Edinburgh Review" elegant hypochondriasm"-that he envied most a wild horse in the deserts of Arabia, or an oyster on the coast of Africa: the last had not a wish to gratify, and the first had not a wish ungratified.

THE MALT-MAN.

The malt-man comes on monday,

He craves wonder sair,

Cries, Dame, come gi'e me my siller,
Or malt ye sall ne'er get mair.

I took him into the pantry,

And gave him some good cock-broo,

Syne paid him upon a ga'ntree,

As hostler-wives should do.

When malt-men come for siller,

And gaugers with wands o'er soon,
Wives, tak them down to the cellar,
And clear them as I have done.
This bewith, when cunzie is scanty,
Will keep them frae making din ;
The knack I learn'd frae an auld aunty,
The snackest of a' my kin.

The malt-man is right cunning,
But I can be as slee,

And he may crack of his winning,
When he clears scores with me:
For come when he likes, I'm ready;
But if frae hame I be,

Let him wait on our kind lady,

She'll answer a bill for me.

The genuine pithy humour of this clever song is in Ramsay's best manner; the air is reckoned very old, and an air in those days (when sounds were unwelcome which conveyed no meaning) seldom went out unattired with words. This ready-witted landlady seems to have been a descendant or a friend of the far-famed wife of Whittlecockpen, in whose praise some old minstrel has sung with less delicacy than humour. They arranged the payment of their debts and entertained their visitors in the same agreeable way. Even the manner in which she proposes to charm the gauger is hereditary in her

family; and a similar spirit of good will and accommodation also belongs to the "kind lady," the owner, perhaps, of the house. I have heard this song often making wall and rafter ring again, when the liquor was plenty and the ways weary, on the night of a summer fair.

THE AULD WIFE BEYONT THE FIRE.

There was a wife wonn'd in a glen,

And she had dochters nine or ten,

That sought the house baith but and ben,

To find their mam a snishing.

The auld wife beyont the fire,

The auld wife aneist the fire,

The auld wife aboon the fire,

She died for lack of snishing.

Her mill into some hole had faun,

What recks? quoth she, let it be gaun, A

For I maun hae a young goodman

Shall furnish me with snishing.

Her eldest dochter said right bauld,
Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld,

And if ye with a younker wald,

He'll waste away your snishing.

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