HAD I THE WYTE. Tune-" Had I the wyte she bade me." I. HAD I the wyte, had I the wyte, A coward loon she ca'd me; Had kirk and state been in the gate, II. Sae craftilie she took me ben, And bade me make nae clatter; "For our ramgunshoch glum gudeman Is out and owre the water :" Whae'er shall say I wanted grace, When I did kiss and dawte her, Let him be planted in my place, Syne say I was the fautor. III. Could I for shame, could I for shame, Could I for shame refused her? He clawed her wi' the ripplin-kame, IV. I dighted ay her een sae blue, I lighted on the Monday; The air to which Burns composed this song was called, "Come kiss wi' me and clap wi' me:" and much of the story and some of the words he found in an old lyric which bore the name of " Had I the wyte she bade me," and out of which some readcrs may think he has not succeeded in excluding all that is objectionable. Those acquainted with the old unceremonious strain will wonder at the Poet's success. COMING THROUGH THE RYE. Tune-" Coming through the Rye." I. COMING through the rye, poor body, Burns took up the old strain called "Coming through the rye," thrashed some of the loose chaff from about it, and sent it to the Musical Museum. He has not been more than successful in his emendations; the heroine is still a little free. It cannot be accepted as a proof of her economy, that she made an inroad upon the rye; nor of her prudence, that she allowed her garments to trail in the dew. The same objection may be urged against the Poet's "Rigs o' barley." A respect for the fruits of the earth is common to all the peasantry of Scotland. The old "Coming through the rye" was once very popular in the northern glens; there were many verses, and, as usual, many variations: "Gin a body meet a body Coming through the broom, Need a body gloom? Ilka body has a body, Fient a ane hae I, But twa 'r three lads they lo'e me weel, And what the waur am I?" YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OF A' THE PLAIN! Tune-" The carlin o' the glen." I. YOUNG Jamie, pride of a' the plain, I wha sae late did II. range and rove, And chang'd with every moon my love, |