20 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/84207d7147697644729b63de00f16400.pdf 142859cc1f29045a20718dcb509ca9f5 PDF Text Text FIVE SOMEBODY. LASSIE wr THE LINT-WIIITE LOCKS. THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. HEY THE BONNIE B R E A S T KNOTS. JOHN 0 ' BADENYON. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 56, �am S O N G S . THERE'S NAB LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE, There's n&e luck about the bouse, There's nae luck at a ' ; There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa. And are you sure the news, is true ? And are you sure he's weel? Is this a time to think o'wark ? Mak' haste, set by your wheel. Is this a time to think o' wark, When Colin's at the door ? Gi e me my cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. * 0 gi'e me down my bigonet, My bishop satin gown, For I maun tell the bailie's wife That Colin's came to town. ^ j^SS&^E*.I': My Sunday's sjioon they maun gae on* My hose o' pearl blue, It's a' to please-my aiii gudeman, For he's baith leal and true. a T m i r l allT H O T u M . �Rise up an' mak' a clean fireside, Put on the muckle pot; Gi'e little Kate lier cotton gown, And Jock liis Sunday's coat. And mak' their shoon as black as slaes, Their hose as white as snaw ; It's a' to please my ain gudeman, For he's been lang awa. There are two hens upon the bank, 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 ; It's a' for love of my gudeman, For he's been lang awa. Sao true his heart, sae smooth his speech. His breath like caller air, His very foot has music i.n't, When he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again j And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the tliocht, In troth I'm like to greet. The cauld blasts o' the winter wind, That thirl'd through my hsart, �They're a' blawn by, I lia'e 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 am, The neist we never saw. 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 thoclit, In troth, I'm like to greet. HEY THE BONNIE BREAST KNOTS. Hey the bonnie, ho the bonnie, Hey the bonnie breast knots ; Blythe and merry were they a' When they put on their breast-knots. There was a bridal in this town, And till't the lasses a' were boun', Wi' mankie facings on their gown, And some of them had breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. �5 At nine o'clock the lads convene, Some clad in blue, some clad in green, Wi' shinin' buckles in their sheen, And flowers upon their waistcoats. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. Out cam' the wives a' wi' a phrase, And wish'd the lasses happy days, And muckle thought they o' their claise, Especially the breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. JOHN 0 ' BADENYON. Where now the trees are budding green, And flowers bloom on the lea, The time I us'd to meet my love, Beneath yon spreading tree, My happy days it brings to mind, But, ah! those days are gone ;— Yet still I'll tune the pipe I got Frae John o' Badenyon. For my false love he prov'd untrue, And left me here to mourn ; And often wet wi* ev'ning dew, I've sat beneath this thorn. I've wander'd here, I've wander'd there, But rest I could find none, Until I met beneath this shade, Wi' John o' Badenyon. �6 Why is thy face o'etfcasfj with %oe, He said, or why oppressed ? Should worldly care, or hapless love, E'er rob thy youth of rest J He tun'd his pipe, and play'd sae sweet, He gart my cares stand yon' ; 1 bless the day 1 chanc'd to meet Wi' John o' Badenyon. 'Twas he first taught my youth to sing, And weave the rustic lay, And to his pipe the woods would ring The lee lang summer-day. Nane had sic art to soothe my heart, But now, alas! he's gone, For nane could ever play or sing Like John o' Badenyon. He, dying, gave to me this pipe, On which he us'd to play; Be thou its second lord, he said, And soothe thy care away ; And seize each op'ning bud of joy, That blooms the thorns among ; So, dying said, he left this scene— Dear John o' Badenyon. I laid his head beneath the yird. And dew'd it wi' a tear ; I often wander near the spot, For he to me was dear. �7 Now spring's; green mantle clothes tbe field, Bn£, afr! i I fring alone; For spring's green mantlu clothes the grave Of John o' Ba deny on. ,<yl ^Jool odiriTf^iiil oili *\v oh^'J LASSIE w r THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, Bonny lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks \ Wilt thou be my dearie, 0 ? vfoodotfioa lo ffc&fifi oifi io l Now Nature cleads the flow'ry lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee ; 0 wilt thou share its joy wi' me, And say thou'lt be my dearie, 0 ? Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &c. And when the welcome simmer show'r Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flow'r, We'll to the breathing woodbine bow'r, At sultry noon, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &c When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way ; Through yellow waving fields we'll stray, And talk o' love, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, &e. �8 And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest; Enclasped to my faithfu' breast, I'll comfort thee, my dearie, 0. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, (fee. SOMEBODY. My heart is sair, I darena tell, My heart is sair for somebody; I could wake a winter night, For the sake of somebody. Och hon, for somebody! Och hey, for somebody! I could range the world around, For the sake of somebody. Ye pow'rs that smile on virtuous love, O, sweetly smile on somebody! Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my somebody. Och hon, for somebody! Och hey, for somebody! I wad do—what wad I not? For the sake of somebody. I1W eLIoii 'gi. >oI oJuiw-:^;! � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9428edf00751ad067bbd7c309561d54f.jpg 99ea20f1d87725f4a332d706611d5cc6 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1836 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five Scotch songs. Somebody. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. There's nae luck about the house. Hey the bonnie breast knots. John o' Badenyon. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks--Scotland--Glasgow Ballads Songs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830833505154">s0615b34</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Chapbooks--Scotland--Glasgow Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Somebody. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks. There's nae luck about the house. Hey the bonnie breast knots. John o' Badenyon. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut iimage of a seated man in kilt and bonnet, playing the bagpipes on title page '56' is printed at the foot of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/614d13327def025b2de85a04ddb5875d.jpg cffb70dc55570399110576b360047b60 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on titel-page of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/42d7baa1d81c007882f189e674c91130.pdf d1eb23751eb9a896c193f8bbd1ee7a16 PDF Text Text SIX L O V E SONGS JOCKEY TO THE FAIR. W H A ' S AT T H E WINDOW, WHA? FAIREST OF THE FAIR. THE F L O W E R O' D U M B L A N E . THE MAID OF ARUNDEL. F A R EWELL, F A R E W E L L. GLASGOW r PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 34. �SONGS. WHA'S AT THE WINDOW, WHA? O wha's at the window, wha ? wha ? 0 wha's at tli© window, wha ? wha ? Wha but blythe Jamie Glen, He's come sax miles and ten, To tak bonnie Jeanie awa, awa, To tak bonnie Jeanie awa. He has plighted his troth, an' a', an' a\ Leal love to gi'e, an' a', an' a', And sae has she dune, By a' that's aboon ; For he loe's her, she lo'es him 'boon a', 'boon a* He lo'es her, she lo'es him 'boon a'. Bridal maidens are braw, braw, 0 bridal maidens are braw, braw, But the bride's modest e'e, And warm cheek, are to me 'Boon pearl ens and brooches, an* a', an' a\ 'Boon pearlens and brooches, an' a'. There's mirth on the green, in the ha', the ha\ There's mirth on the green, in the ha', �There's laughing, there's quaffing, There's jesting, there's daffing, But the bride's father's blythest of a', of a', But the bride's father's blythest of a'. It's no that she's Jamie's ava, ava, It's no that she's. Jamie's ava, ava, That my heart is sae wearie, 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. THE FLOWER 0 ' DUMBLANE. The sun had gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene ; While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, To muse on sweet Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. 0 sweet is the brier wi' its saft faulding blossom, And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. She's modest as ony, and blythe as she's, bonny, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain ; And far be the villain, divested of feeling, Wha'd blight in its blossom the flower o' Dumblane Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou'rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen, Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, Is charming young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane. �4 How lost were my days till I met with my Jessie, The sports of the city seem'd foolish and vain ; I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie, Till charm'd wi* sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dumblane, Tho' mine were the station of loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain ; And reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o* Dumblane. T H E M A I D OF A R U N D E L . Thou fairest of the fairest maids, In Arundel's embowering shades, When beauty smiles in all her charms, And love's delighted bosom warms, With thee I woo each sylvan scene, Of fragrant bower and arbour green, While smiling hope our care dispels, We bless the shades of Arundel. When twilight steals along the world, And wandering shepherds leave the fold, To woo the bower, the scented grove, And sigh upon the lips of love ; Again my lovely Rosalie, With bounding heart I fly to thee, Love's dear and fond delights to tell Amid the shades of Arundel. As wandering by the castle mound, Or moving in the festive round, �o I feel the power of love divine, Bright beaming in these eyes of thine. And sweeter is thine artless tale, Than midnight song of nightingale, Soft dying on the breezy swell That fan the shades of Arundel. JOCKEY TO T H E FAIR. 'Twas on the morn of sweet May-day, When Nature painted all things gay, Taught birds to sing, and lambs to play, And gild the meadows fair ; Young Jockey early on the morn Arose, and tript it o'er the lawn, For Jenny vow'd away to run With Jockey to the Fair ; For Jenny vow'd away to run With Jockey to the Fair. The cheerful parish bells had rung, With eager steps he trudg'd along, While garlands round him hung Which shepherds us'd to wear: He tapt the window, 44 Haste my dear," Jenny impatient cried, " Who's there I" " 'Tis I, my love, and no one near, Step gently down, you've nought to fear, With Jockey to the Fair ; Step gently down, &c. �6 " My dad and mammy's fast asleep, My brother's up and with the sheep, And will you still your promise keep Which I have heard you swear ? And will you ever constant prove ? 44 1 will, by all the powers above, And ne'er deceive my charming dove: Dispel those doubts, and haste my love, With Jockey to the Fair Dispel those doubts, &c. " Behold the ring," the shepherd cried, " Will Jenny be my charming bride? Let Cupid be our happy guide, And Hymen meet us there." Then Jockey did his vows renew, He would be constant, would be true, His word was pledg'd, away she flew With Jockey to the Fair ; O'er cowslips tript, &c. In raptures meet the joyful train, Their gay companions, blithe and young, Each join the dance, each join the throng. To hail the happy pair ; In turns there's none so fond as they, They bless the kind propitious day, The smiling morn of blooming May, When lovely Jenny ran away With Jockey to the Fair ; When lovely Jenny, &c. �7 F A I R E S T OJ? T H E FAIR. 0 Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me, Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town ; Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lowly cot, and russet gown ? Nae langer drest in silk and sheen, Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair O Nannie, when thou'rt far away, Wilt thou not cast a look behind ? Say, canst thou face the parching ray, Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 0 can that saft and gentlest mien Severest hardships learn to bear, Nor sad, regret each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? O Nannie, canst thou love so true, Thro' perils keen wi' me to gae ? Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, To share with him the pang of wae. And when invading pains befal, Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wishful those gay scenes recal, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 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 �8 And wilt thou o'er his much-lov'd clay Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ; Nor then regret those scenes so gay, Where thou wert fairest of the fair I FAREWELL, FAREWELL. Farewell, farewell, dear Erin's Isle! My native land, adieu! I've seen thy hours of sunshine smile, And mark'd thy sorrows too. The pale moon trembles on the deep, But ere the morning dawn, Th© winds will only hear me weep For thee, my Peggy Bawn. And though I haste beyond the sea, Where sweeter scenes may smile, My heart unchanged will turn to tliee, My own, my native isle. But now a long, a kind farewell, To mountain, grove, and lawn, While tears alone my parting tell, From thee, my Peggy Bawn. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 062: Title-page illustration of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Six love songs. Jockey to the fair. Wha's at the window, wha? Fairest of the fair. The flower o' Dumblane. The maid of Arundel. Farewell, farewell. Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <span class="EXLResultStatusAvailable"><span class="EXLAvailabilityCallNumber"><a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830973505154">s0615b35</a></span></span> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Jockey to the fair. Wha's at the window, wha? Fairest of the fair. The flower o' Dumblane. The maid of Arundel. Farewell, farewell. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut #62: Illustration on title-page of a young woman wearing a hat, dress, and shawl standing before a gate. '34' is printed at the bottom of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012 Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 1 Architecture: gate Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Gender: woman/women Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4078a41b15db43bd25f11325c68a193c.pdf dddfb7d8d23b4b6f2bafe256ac6fdc4a PDF Text Text PAISLEY REPOSITORY. No. THE LIFE OF II. and DEATH THE F A M O U S P Y P E R OF K I L B A R C H A N , T h e Epitaph of H A B B I E S I M P S O N , Q u h a on his Drone bore bony Flags : H e maid his cheiks as reid as crimson, A n d bobbit quhan he blew his bags. T h e following Epitaph, or Elegy, was written by Robert Sample i f Bcltr'ees about the year 160©. Hti 18 allowed to be th~ inventor of the Stanza of this Epitaph. A l a n Ramsay and William Hamilton, In writing the same measure acknowledge, v < T h e Eleg y on HABBT SIMPSON" to be « a finished piece and a standard for that kind of rhyme. See Ramsay* May I be licket wi' a bittle, Gin of your numbers I think little, Ye're never rugget, shan, nor kittle, But blythe and gabby, A n d hit the spirit to a tittle, 4i O f S t A H 0 A R T H ABBY. 9$ Ramsay's first epistle to Hamilton• u A n d on condition I were as gabby,. A s either thee or HONEST HABBY* That I lin'd a' thy claes wi' tabby, Or velvet plush, A n d then thou'd be sae far frae shabby, Thou'd look right sprush'* Hamilton's second epistle to Ramsay % �A L L A N R A M S A Y For a M o t t o t o t h e ELEGY o f P a t i e Birnie the fam< us Fidler of Kinghorn, quotes these lines out of Habby's Epitaph. " A n d then beside his valiant Acts, A t Bridals he wan mony placks." In the ancient popular Ballad of M a g g y Lauder this reference is made to Habby Simpson, There's nane in Scotlan* plays like you, * • Sin* we lost Habby S i m p s o n " SEMPLE in his History of Renfrew, when speaking of Kilbarchan Steeple, says, that i t 4 t has a restick door on the west side, which leads into the Public School, above which is a large niche intended for the Colossus or Statue of Habby Simpson." It is said, that in one of the rooms of a certain Gent.eman's house in Ayrshire, there is a full length painting of Habby Simpson, alon£ with a painting of K i n g Charles the Second. Pennecuik, of eccentric memory, published Habby Epitaph in his Collection of curious Poems. Habby died in the latter end of the Sixteenth Century, •tout 1 believe no account has ever yet been discovered cither of the time of his birth or how old he was when he died. T h e Poem itself says, he w a s t 4 T^ethless auld and tench/* it may be therefore presumed, that he being a strong robust man might 1-ive to a great age. His tombstone in Kilbarchan Parish Church-yard, is so much defaced w h h time that there are scarce any characters legible, except H . S. t h e initials of his name and a figure sortie what resembling a Flesher's chopping knife, some think it the remains of a Bag-pipe. Tradition say^s, he was a Fiesher as well as a Piper. in Kilbarchan (? st October r8o8.) there is a family of the name ol Anderson, who are related to Habby Simpson by the mother s side; that Habby Simpson had at leaft a son\ is evident from the following ANECDOTE. Francis Sem^le, Son of Robert, the author of Habby's Epitaph, had upon some occasion offended his Father, who f o r ^ long time would not speak to him, but by ,the. intercession of some friends, the Father agreed! to forgive him upoirrondition he gave a verse of psetry cxte.npor^ T h e Y o u t h asked his Father npton what �3 subject? Hit-Bather desfced him tp. a44 ? nether verse, to Habby's Epi:aph Without hesitation Francis repeated, It's now these bags are a* forfairn, A Tha* Habby left to Jock the bairn, Tho* they wjere »esv*4 wi* heilan' yairn, A n d silken thread, It maksna, they .were fiii'd wi* shairn £in' Habby's dead, f have seen the first t w o lines of this stanza of Francis Sempie*s altered thus, These P+pes whereon poor H a b * 4 i d l$arp, H e left them unto Jock the bairn. EPITAPH. ;1 K I L B A R C H A N now may say alace ! For scho hes lost hir game and grace, Baith Trixie and the Maidin-tracey But quhat remeid £ For nae man can supply his place, Hab Simpson's deit). 2 Now quha -sail play, The day it da wis > O r , Hunt up quhen the Cock he era wis, Or, quha can for our Kirk-townis caus, Stand us in steid ? On bag-pypis now nae body blawis, Sen Babbie's deid. 5, Or, quha will caus our scheirers scheir, Quha .will bang up the biagis of weir, Bring in the belli s or gude play meir, In tyme of neid ? Hab Simpson coud. Quhat neid ze speir ? But now he's deid. 4. Sa kyndlie to his nychbours neist, A t Beltane and Sanct Barchan's feast. H e blew and then hald up his breist A s he war weid, But now we neid not him arreist, For Habbie'a deid. �j . A t fairis he pTayit .befoir the speir-men, A l l gaillie g aithit in thair geir, quhen Steil Bonetis, Jackis and Swordis sae cleirthen, L y k e ony beid ; Now quha sail play befoir sic weir-men, Sen Habbie's deid ? 6 A t Clark-play is quhen he wont to cum, Hib pype playit trimiie to the drum, L y k e bikes of bets he gart it hum, And tuneit his reed ; But now our pypis may a' sing dum, Sen Habbie's deid. 7 A n d at hors races mony a day, Befoir the black, the brown and gray* H e gart his pypts quhan he did play Baith skirl and screidp Now all sic pastymis quyte away, Sen Habbie's deid. 8. He countit was, a weild wicht man, A n d ferslte at fute-ball he ran, A t everie game the grie he wan, For pith and speid, Tlie lyke of Habbie wasna than, But now he's deid. 9, And then besyde his valziant actls, A t bridaiis he wan rhony plakis, H e babbit aye behind fowks bakis, ^nd schuke his heid, Mow we want mony merrie crakis, Sen Habbie-s deid. xo. He was convoyer o the bryde* W i kittok hingane at his syde, About the Kirk he thocht a pryde, I'he ring to leid Now we maun gae bot ony guyd~, For Habbie's deid. �5 i t Sa welll's he keipit his decorum, Arid all the stotis of ®uhip > eg Morum; H e slew a man, and waes me for him, And bare the feid; A n d zit the man wan hame befoir him, And wasna deid 12. Aye quhan he playit the lassis leuch, T o sie him teithless, auld and teuch, H e wan his pypis besyde Bar cleuch, Withoutm dreid, Quhilk efter wan him geir eneuch, But now he's deid 13, A y e quhan he playit the gaitlingsgedderit, A n d quhan he spak the carill b edderit, On Sabbath-day is his cape was fedderit, A seimlie weid ? In the kirk yeard his meir stude tedderit, Quhar he lyis deid. 14. Alace ! for him my heart is sair, For of his springis I got a skair, A t everie play, race, feist and fair, Bot gyle or greid, W e neid not luke for pyping mair, Sen Habbie's deid. N O T E S O THE E P I T A P H . N S stands for Stanza, and V for Verse or Verses. S. I . V , I Kilbar chert, is d e r i v e d f r o m Cella Barcbartt t h e Chapel o r Cell of Barcban. T h e Romans always pronounced the letter C in the same manner as w e pron unc fC and the w o r d Cella is not pronounced Sella bur Kella, hence comes the w o r d Kelbarcban. T h e Flairs, Banners, Ensigns o r Colours of the T r a d e s c f K u b a r c h a n , have the portrait of St. Barchan, the titular Saint of the Parish painted on them. N e a r KUbarchan is a W e i l called Barchan's W e l l . �S. I. Trixie. By this $eal ami preaching o£ JOHN KNOX, the great .Reformer, and some others, J eyes were opened to see the mummery ark! perpieS superstition of the Popish Church, and the Jiccntio!t& lives of the Clergy of that communion. The Reformers had a few years before this time got their Religion established by law, therefore Protestants were in som6 measure secure from the effects of Popish wrath. Some person fcad wri ten a famous s>ng, but very violent against the C'ergy of the -Church of Rome, in which they were ludicropsiy exposed. This Song contaius nine Stanzas, and e«i^h stanza concludes with Hay Trix, Try me go Tr ix, under the Grene IVod Trie, on which account the Song got the name of Trixie. Tj^e following Stanza is given opt of it as a hpecimen. " The Sisteris gray, bei'oir this day, Did crune within thair Cloister, Thay feit ane Freir thai Kevis to beir, ^ T h e Feind ressareit the Foster : Syne in the Mtrk sa we:l culd w i r k , And kictiil them wantounlie ; H a y Trix Tryme go T r i x Under the Grene Wod T r i e . " I may perhaps at some future period print the whole of this Song. That this Song would fill the Catholirs, who were very numerous in these days, with rage, must be evident yet people took great delight In venting their indignation against the Papists by singing it, and to fan up the flame they often made Habby play up the A i r of it on his JJa^-pipes SEMPLE considers the want of H ihby to play Trixie as one .oss among the rest, that JCdbarchan had sustained by Habby's death. S. i . V . 3. Maidin trace, tt was the custom here j n former times for the £ride and her Maidens to walk three times round the Church before the marriage was celebrated, led on by the Piper, who played some peculiar tune on the occasion, which got the name of the M u d e n trace and to rfcis the tenth Stanza alludes, and the verse " A t Bridals he wan mony placks." s.2. Y. I. The diy it daws. This and the following line are supposed by some to contain the names of popjilar Airs that Habby played ; h>xt I am rather of ©pinion, that this verss is »p more than the Village �f pfper phyiftg his founds early in the mortiiri^. S. 2. V 2. T h i s verse is < l.ipcicai and the sense ty fltat Habby in playing his rounds awaited persons, w h o Mere wishing to rise early. S. 2. V . 3. and 4. These verses coincide w i t h the liotes or, T r i x i e and Maiden-trace. S. 3. V . 1 . It was customary in former times, and in some places still continues to be so, for the M*«ter o f a C o m p a n y of Reapers to hire a P . p e r to play 10 them in order to expedite the w o r k . S 3 V. 2 T h a t H a b b y w o u M p ay the wai like £ibrochs eithtr in recruiting for the K i n i *s Service, o r , a t such a process'on of the inhabitant; at their fair, as is described In the fifth Stanza, is extremely probable, f o r a description of a Pibroch sec a^m t( in M i l l a r ' s Edition of H a r d y k n u f e . an ancient Scottish Ballad. S 3 . V . 3. Stanza seventh, illustrates this verier. A t F a u l t y Son-James'-day R a c e , the horses rtin for silver bells, and the horse which is so fortunate iis to w i n the race is led to the t o w n in triumph, w i t h the be Is he has so meritorit usly gained, hung round his neck ; afterwards, the bells are sold back apain, for a fixed va ue w h i c h w a s set on them, It is very probable that something similar was the case here : tha* H a b b y •jproudly playing on his pipes would usher the victorious horse w i t h the bells into the T o w n . S. 4. V . 2. Beltane. A superstitious custom formerly observed in Scotland. It was a kind of rural sacrifice, performed by the herdsmen of every village on the first of May. Vide Encyclopaedia on the word Bel-Urn. - S. 4. V . 2. St Barcban s feast. T n i s feast appears t o have been the origen of Barchan's day fair. S. 4. V. 4. IVtid. Furious, synonimous w i t h tvid, nvod, ivede% wood, a n d tvvd. In"Dunbar^Maitland's Poems, 77. the w o r d occurs in the same sense. * H e e i r n t , he glourt, he g a p t as he w a r A n d quhylum sat still in ane studying, A n d quhy um on his bulk he w a s reyding.*' B u m s in his Tarn o* Shanter exhibits a n instance c f nearly the same kind. .-5 ' :" T h e mirth and fun g r e w fast and furious, T h e Pi} er loud and louder blew.'* S. 5. V . &teil Boneti/t Hc\mct%, Jackis} Jacket?, �fh S. 10. V . JCittoi, Some say, this was the Durk, others sav, it was the article that the durk was kept in. ; S. II. V. 2. Stotisj Notes of Music. Qubip mtgmorurt, the name of an old A i r ; therefore the sense is Notes of Whip-meg-morum. S. i r . V . 3. 4. 5. and 6. This Adventure, as handed down by tradition, is related as follows, Habby upon some e ry occasion was p'ayi'ng on the Pcnnal Green, near Kilbarchan, when a person, wh > was moved by the Spirit of Envy at his success, came behind him and fetabbed his pipes. When Habby understood who it wab that had thus affronted him, he in great wrath drew his durk to reverse the insu;t, and in doing io, he only drew the durk a piece cut of the shea h, w h i n sheath and all came to him. Habby intoxicated y the passion he was in did not perceive it, and in maki v a violent hrust at the man, the durk went into the end of the sheath, which kept the blade from ^oing into the man's body T h e man fell by the fright a; d the violence o f t h e stroke together. Habby supposing that his durk had gone into the man's body, that length it had one into the sheath, instantly fled, and took shelter in Blacfcstone Moss, where he staid for a night and a <!ay. When ruminating over his melancholy situation, he thought to himself he would take a look at the Moody <iurk, and strange to tell, the sheath was on it. Habby did not know bur the man might recover, yet from what he witnessed he did not know but he might also be dead. With cauti us steps he ventured from his hiding place, and came to a house where he waa well known, and looking in at the window, the Mistress of the hoji3e bade him to come in. H,e told her he durst not venture in for he had killed such-a-one. She replied, •« Ise suir that caniu be for 1 saw him eae past our house this vera day " Habby said he could scarce be ieve her, though he would be very happy for it to be true. She asserted in strong terms that what she said was tru?, and convinced Habby of his mistake, S. ii. V . 3. Bar-deuch. This place i3 situated on ihe east end o f t h e town of Kubarchan. J.NEU.SOM, PRINTER. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/7ddd3ead14f85d3ef7ba1592c5ff08b1.jpg 897724f3113b617c3f3ab2fe951041d3 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1772 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Lyfe and death of the famous pyper of Kilbarchan; or, The epitaph of Habbie Simpson, quha on his drone bore bony flags: he maid his cheiks as reid as crimson, and bobbit quhan he blew his bags. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks--Scotland--Paisley Simpson, Habbie, 1550-1620 Bagpipers Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831123505154">s0615b36</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Paisley Repository no. 2 The epitaph of Habbie Simpson Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Sempill, Robert, 1595?-1663? Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource ca.1800 Description An account of the resource No copies found in University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks , NLS, Worldcat, or ESTC Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [Paisley] https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9737a868ef1b05fa93c0ec9c4c9bf7e6.pdf e80c21b651e7d81a5393a9f75cfd171f PDF Text Text SELECT MISCELLANY A COLLECTION OF PIECES MORAL, HISTORICAL, AND HUMOUROUS; BY CELEBRATED AUTHORS. GLASGOWPRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, �/ < i h J J • J O S ' I '-'•> V - T i • " ('.'*! « v;, l i M.tO > - I |[V : l i 0.1) ,J/Ji< • If I ft • w V: rh • -S.U : : wodhajo 'IO0-: 'TT'I' ;T.. • <[ 'TYJSVI �THE SELECT MISCELLANY. BATTLE OF THE BREEKS. A FBS G A AE FROM THE LIFE OF WILLIAM M ' G E E , WEAVER I N HAMILTON. I often wonder, when I think of the tribulations that men bring upon themsells, through a want of gumption and common independence of speerit. There now, was I for nae less than eighteen years as henpickit a man as ever wrocht at the loom. Maggy and me, after the first week of our marriage, never foregathered weel thegither. There was something unco dour and imperious about her temper, although, I maun say, barring this drawback, she was nae that ill in her way either—that is to say, she had a sort of kindness about her, and behaved in a truly mitherly way to the bairns, gie'in them a' things needfu' in the way of feeding and claithing so far as our means admitted. But, O man, for a' that, she was a dour wife. There was nae pleasing her ae way or anither ; and whenever I heard the bell ringing for the kirk, it put me in mind of her tongue—aye wag, wagging, and abuseing me beyond bounds. In ae word, I was a puir, broken-hearted man, and often wished myself in Abraham's bosom, awa frae the cares and miseries of this sinfu* world. I was just saying that folk often rin their heads �into scrapes for want of a pickle natural spunk. Let nae man tell me tliat guid nature and simpleecity will get on best in this world ; na—faith, no. I had ower muckle experience that way ; and the langer I lived has pruved to me that my auld maist'er, James Currie, (him in the Quarry Loan,) wasna sae far wrang when he alleged, in his droll gude-humoured way, that a man should hae enough of the deil about him to keep the deil frae him. That was, after a', ane of the wisest observes I hae heard o' for a lang time. Little did I opine that I would ever be oblegated to mak' use o't in my ain particklar case :—but, bide awee, and ye shall see how it was brocht about between me and Maggy. It was on a wintry nicht when she set out to pick a quarrel wi* Mrs Todd, the huckster's wife, anent the price of a pickle flour which I had bought some days before, for making batter of, but which didna turn out sae weel as I expeckit, considering what was paid for't. Had I been consulted, I would hae tell't her to bide at hame, and no fash her thumb about the matter, which after a* was only an affair of three-happence farthing, and neither here nor there. But, na ; Maggie was nane o' the kind to let sic an object to stan' by ; so out she sets, wi' her red cloak about her, and her black velvet bonnet—that she had just that day got hame frae Miss Lorimer, the milliner— upon her head. But I maun first tell what passed between her and me on this wonderfu' occasion.* " And now, my dear/' quo' I, looking as couthly and humble as I could, and pulling my Kilmarnock night-cap a wee grain off my brow in a kind of half respectfu' fashion, " whats this ye're ganging to be about ? Odds, woman, I wadna gie a pirn for a' �that has happened. What signifies a pickle flour scrimp worth half a groat!" Faith, I would better hae held my tongue, for nae sooner was the word uttered, than takin' haud of a can, half fu' o* ready made-dressing, which I was preparing to lay on a wab of blue check I was working for Mr Andrew Treddles, the Glasgow manufacturer—I say, takin' haud o' this, she let it fly at my head like a cannon ball. But "Providence was kind, and instead of knocking out my brains, as I had every reason to expeck, it gied bang against our ain looking glass, and shattered it into five hundred pieces. But I didna a'thegither escape skaith, the dressing having flown out as the can gied by me, and plaistered a* my face ower in a manner maist extraordinary to behold. By jingo, my corruption was roused at this deadly attempt, and gin she hadna been my wife, I wad hae thrawn about her neck like a tappit hen's. But, na—I was henpickit, and she had sic a mastery over me as nae persuasions of my ain judgement could overcome. Sae I could dae nathing but stan' glowering at her like a moudiewart, while she poured out as muckle abuse as If I had been her flunky, instead of her natural lord and master. Ance or twice I fand my nieves yeuking to gie her a clour by way of balancing accounts, but such was the power of influence, that she had obtained that I durstna cheep for my very Iieart's bluid. So awa' she gaid on her errand, leaving me sittin' by the fire, to mak' the best of my desperate condition. " 0, Nancy,'' said I to my dochter, as she sat mending her brother's sark, opposite to me, 4 4 Is na your mitlier an awfu' woman ?" " I see naething awfu' about lier," quo' the cratur; " I think she servit yericht; and had I �6 a man, I would just treat him in the very same way, if he claur'd to set his nose against any thing that I wanted." I declare to ye when I heard this, frae my ain flesh and bluid, I was perfectly dumfoundered. The bairn I had brought up on my knee-—that used, when a wee thing, to come and sit beside me at the loom, and who was in the custom of wheeling my pirns wi' her ain h a n d odds, man, it was desperate. I coudna say anither word, but I fand a big tear come hap hap-ping ower my runkled cheeks, the first that had wet them sin* I was a bit laddie running about before the schule door. What was her mither's abusiVeness to 'this ? A man may thole muckle frae his wife,'but 0, the harsh words of the undutifu' bairn gang like arrows to his heart, and he weeps tears of real bitterness. I wasna angry at the lassie— 1 was ower grieved to be angered ; and for the first time I found that my former sufferings were only a single thread to a haill hank of yarn compared to them I suffered at this moment. A'thegither the thing was mair than I could staun, so, rising up, I betaks mysell to my but-anben neighbour, Andrew Brand. Andrew was an uncommon sagacious chiel, and, like mysell, a weaver to his trade. He was beuk-learned, and had read a hantel on different subjects, so that he was naturally looked up to by the folks round about, on account of his great lear. When onything gaed wrang about the Leechlee street, where we lived, we were a7 glad to consult him ; and his advice was reckoned no greatly behint that of Mr Meek, the minister. He was a great counter or 'ritlimetishian, as he ca'd it; and it was thocht by mony guid judges that he could handle a pen as weel as Mr Dick, the writing-master, liimseli. So* 4 4 �7 as I was saying, I stappit ben to Andrew's, to as& his advice, but odds, if ye ever saw a man in sic a desperate passion as he was in, when I tauld him how I had been used by my wife and dochter. 4 4 William M'Ghee," said he, raising his voice— it was a geyan strong ane—" ye're an absolute gomeril. 0, man, but ye're a henpickit sumph! I tell ye ye're a gawpus, and a lauching stock, and no worth the name of a man. Do ye hear that ?" O ay, I hear't very weel," quo' I, no that pleased at being sae spoken to, even by Andrew Brand, who was a man I could stamach a guid deal frae, in the way of reproof—" I ihear't a' weel eneucli, and am muckle obleged to ye, nae doubt, for your consolation." " Hooly and fairly, William," said he in a kinder tone, for he say/ I was a degree hurt by his speech. " Come, I was only joking ye, man, and you maunna tak onything amiss I hae said. But really, William, I speak to ye as a frien', and tell ye that ye are submitting to a tyranny which no man of common understanding ought to submit to. Is this no the land of liberty ? Are we no just as free as the Duke in his grand palace down by ; and has ony body a richt-—tell me that, William M'Gee—to tyranneeze ower anither as your wife does ower you! I'll no tell ye what to do, but I'll just tell you what I would do, if my wife and dochter treated me as yours have treated you— lord, man, I would ding -their harns about, and knock their heads thegitlier like twa curling stanes. I would aye ,be master in my ain house." This was Andrew's advice, and I thocbt it sounded geyan rational, only no very easy to put in practice. Hoosomever, thinks I to mysell, I'll consider about it, and gin I could only bring mysell �8 to mak the experiment, wlia kens but I micht succeed to a miracle ? On stapping back to my ain house, the first thing I did was to tak a thimblefu' of whisky, by way of gi'eing me a pickle spunk, in case of ony fresh rumpus wi' the wife, and also to clear up my ideas—for I hae fand, that after a lang spell at the loom the thochts as weel as the body, are like to get stupid and dozey. So I taks a drappie, and sits down quietly by the fireside, waiting for the return of Maggy frae scoLding Mrs Todd about the flour. In she comes, a' in a flurry. Her face was as red as a peeyny rose, her breathing came fast, and she lookit a'thegither like ane that has had a sail* warsle wi' the tongue. But she was far frae being downcast. On the contrair, she lookit as proud as a Turkey cock ; and I saw wi' the tail o' my e'e that she had gained a grand victory ower puir Mrs Todd, who was a douce, quiet woman, and nae match for the like of her in randying. So she began to stump and mak a great phrase about the way she had outcrawed the puir body ; and was a'thegither as upset about it, as if Duke Hamilton bad made her keeper of his palace. Losh, I was mad to hear't, and twa or three times had a gude mind to put in a word—to sic a degree was my courage raised by the drap spirits—but aye as the words were rising to my mouth, the thocht of the can and the dressing sent them back again, till they stuck like a bane in my throat. Very likely I micht hae said neer a word, and Andrew Brand's advice micht hae gain for naething, had it no been for the cratur Nancy, who was sae lifted up about her mither's dispute, that naething would sair her but to hae the haill affair mentioned cut and dry, �/1 "And did you cast up to Mrs Todd* mither," quo' tlie little cutty,44 that she was fat?" "Ay, that I did," said Maggy. " I tell't her she was like a barn door. I tell't her she was like the side of a house. Ye're a sow, quo' I ; ye get fou every hour of the day wi' your lump of a guideman.' " But this wasna a'—for nae sooner had Maggie answered her dochter's first question, than the cratur was ready wi' anither : "Aud mither, did ye cast up to her that her faither was a meeser ?" "Atweel did I, Nancy," answered the gudewife. " I tell't her a' that. I coost up to he:* that her faither was a meeser, and would ride to Lannon on a louse, and make breeks of its skin, and candels of its tallow." I could thole this nae langer. I fand the haill man working within me, and was moved to a pitch of daring, mair like madness than onything else. jPaitij, the whisky was of gude service now, and so was Andrew Brand's advice. I accordingly steekit my neives wi* desperation, threw awa' my cowl, tucked up my sark sleeves—for my coat happened to be aff at the time—and got up frae the threefooted stool I had been sitting upon in the twinkling of an e'e. I trumbled a' ower, but whether it was wi' fear, or wi' anger, or wi' baith putthegither, it would be difficult to say. I was in awfu' passion, and as fairce as a papish. "And so," said I, " y e coost up sic things to the honest woman, Mrs Todd! 0, Maggy M'Gee, Maggy M'Gee, are ye no ashamed of yoursell ? Odd it would hae dune your heart gude to see how she glowered at me. She was bewildered and lookit as if to see whether I was mysell, and no some ither body. But her evil speerit didna lie lang asleep : it soon broke out �10 that I maun now staun firm., or be a dead man for ever. 44 Has your farther been at the whisky bottle ? said she to her dcehter. " He looks as if he was the waur of drmi." He had a glass just before- ye cam in," an swered the wicked jimpey ; and' scarcely had she Spoken the word, when Maggy flew upon me like a toger, and gie'd me a skelp on the cheek wi' her open, loof, that made me turn round tapwise on the middle of the floor. Seeing that affairs were come to this pass, I saw plainly that I maun go on, n.o forgetting in sae doing my frien' Andrew's advice, as also my auld master, Tainmas Ourrie's observe, ancnt a man having aneuch of the deil in. his temper to keep the deil awa' frae him. So I picked up a' the spunk I had in me, besides what I had frae the drap whisky; and fa'ing to, I gi'ed her sic a leathering, as never wornftfi got in hter born days. In ae word, she met wi' her match, and roared aloud for mercy ; but this I would on nae account grant, till she promised faithfully, that in a' time coming she would acknowledge me as her lord and master—and obey me in everything as a dutiful wife should her husband. As soon as this was settled, in stappit Andrew Brand'. At the sight of my wife greeting, and me sae fairce, he held up his hands wi' astonishment. "William M'Gee," quo' he, " it's no possible that ye're maister in this house !" 44 It's no only possible, but its true, Andrew," was my answer; and. taking me by the hand, he •wished me joy for my speerit and success. Sae far, sae weel: the first grand stroke was madb, but there was something yet to do. I had discharged a' outstanding debts wi' my wife, and had brocht her to terms ; but I had yet to reduce like a squib on the King's birth clay, and I saw �11 % <Y my bairns to tlieir proper senses, and show thorn that I was their lord and maister, as weel as their inMher's. Puir things! my heart was wae for t'hem, for they were sairly miseducated, and held me in nae mair estimation, than if I had been ane of my ain wabster lads. So, just wi' a view to their gucle, J took down a pair of teuch ben-leather taws, weel burnt at the linger ends, and gi'ed Nancy as moUy cracks ower the bare nock, as set her sqeeling be yond a' bounds. It was pitifu' to see the cratuiv how she skipped about the room, and ran awa to her mither, to escape my faitherly rage. But a' assistence frae that quarter was end now; and she was fain to fa' down on her knees and beg my forgeevness—and promise to conduct hersell as became my dochter, in a' time coming. Just at this moment, in conies wee Gordie, greeting for his parritch. He kent nae thing of what had taken place in the house ; and doubtless expeckit to mak' an idiot of me, his father, as he had been accustomed to do, almost frae his yery cradle. I saw that now was the time to thresh the corruption out of him ; and brandishing the taws oy/er my head, I made a stap forrit to lay hand upon him, and treat him like the lave. He looked as if he had an inkling of what was forthcoming, and run whinging and craiking to his mither, who stood wiping her een wi? her striped apron in the corner of the room. The terrified laddie clang to her knees, but she never offered to lend a helping hand ; so great was the salutary terror wi' which I had inspired her. So I puM him awa frae her coats, to which he was clinging ; and laying him ower my knee, I gie'd him hipsy-dipsy in the presence of his mither, his sister, and Andrew Brand, who were looking on. �12 And thus hae I, who for eighteen years was ruled by my wife, got the upper hand ; and ony man who is henpickit, as I hae been, should just take the same plan, and his success will be as sure as mine. Andrew Brand aye said to mo that a man should wear his ain breeks ; and I can mainteen, frae present experience, that a wiser saying is no to be found in the proverbs of Solomon, the son of David. No that Maggie has 11a tried nows and thans to recover her lost power, but I hae on thae occasions conduckit mysell wi' sic firmness, that she has at last gi'en it up as a bad job, and is now as obedient a wife, as ye'11 meet wi' between this and Bothwell. The twa bairns, too, are just wonderfully changed, and are as raisonable as can be expeckit, a' things considered. Let men, therefore, whether gentle or semple, follow my plan, and the word henpickit, as Andrew Brand says, will soon slip out of the dictionar.—A Modem Pythagorean. THE B A R B E R OF DUNSE. A clergyman possessing an uncommon share 0i wit and humour, had occasion to lodge for the night, with some friends, at the inn of a town, which for certain reasons, we shall denominate Dunse. Requiring the services of a barber, he was recommended by the waiter to Walter Dron, who was represented as excellent at cracking a joke, or telling a story. This functionary being forthwith introduced, made such a display of his oral and manual dexterity, as to leave on the mind as well as the body of his customer, a very favourable impression, and induce the latter to invite �13 % him to sit down to a friendly glass. The mutual familiarity which the circulation of the bottle produced, served to show off the barber in his happiest mood; and the facetious clergyman, amid the general hilarity, thus addressed him : " Now Wattie, I engage to give you a guinea, on the following terms,— that you leap backwards and forwards over your chair for the space of half an hour—leisurely, yet regularly—crying out at every leap, ' here goes I, Watty Dron, barber of Dunse —but that, should you utter any thing else during the time, you forfeit the reward." Wattie, though no doubt surprised at the absurdity of the proposal, yet, considering how easily he could earn the guinea, and the improbability that such an opportunity would ever again present itself, agreed to the stipulations. The watch was set, and the barber having stript of lais coat, leaning with one hand on the back of the chair, commenced leaping over the seat, uniformly repeating, in an exulting tone, the words prescribed. After matters had gone on thus smoothly for about live minutes, the clergyman rung the bell, and thus accosted the waiter:—" What is the reason, Sir, you insult me, by sending a mad fellow like that, instead of a proper barber, as you pretended he was ?" Barber—(leaping)—44 Here goes I, Wattie Dron, barber of Dunse." Waiter—" Oh ! Sir, I don't know what is the matter, I never saw him In this way all my life—Mr Dron, Mr Dron, what •do you mean.?" Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie—" Waiter—" Bless me, Mr Dron, recollect these :are gentlemen ; how can you make such a fool «of yourself?" Barber—"Here goes I — , " Landlord—{entering in haste)—" What the Devil, Sir, is all this—the fellow is mad—how dare you, $ir, insult gentlemen in my house by such conduct?" �14 Barber—" Here goes I, Wattie Dron"—Landlord — " I say, Bob, rtin for his wife, for this can't be put up With—gentlemen, the man is evidently deranged, and I hope you will not let my house foe injured in any way by this business." " Here goes—"—(wife pushing i n ) — " O h ! Wattie, Wattie, what's this that's come ower ye ? Do you no ken your ain wife ?" Barber—" Here goes I,"— Wife—(weeping)—" Oh ! Wattie, if ye care na for me, mind your bairns at hame, and come awa' wi' me." Barber—" Here goes I, Wat—" The afflicted wife now clasped her husband round the neck, and hung on him so as effectually to arrest his farther progress. Much did poor Wattie struggle to shake off his loving, yet unwelcome spouse^ but it was now no " go"—his galloping was at an end. " Confound you for an idiot," he bitterly exclaimed, " I never could win a guinea so easily in my life." It is only necessary to add, that the explanation which immediately followed, was much more satisfactory to mine host than to the barber's better half ; and that the clergyman restored Wattie to his usual good humour, by generously rewarding his exertions with the well-earned guinea. SAYINGS OF POOR RICHARD. IT would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service ; but idleness taxes many of as much more : sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. " Sloth like rust, consumes faster than labours wears, while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard says. But, " dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that �is the stuff f j f e is made of," as poor Richard say*. How muc)^ m ore than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting that " the sleeping fox catches no poultry » a nd that 4'there will be sleeping enough in th^ grave," as Poor Richard says. f J time be of all things the most precious, " wastir xg time must be," as Poor Richard says, 41 the greatest prodigality since as he elsewhere tells us " Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to tho purpose, so by diligence shall we do more, with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry, all easy; and " lie that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at n i g h t w h i l e , " laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy, and wise," as Poor Richard says. So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. " Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope, will ba fasting. There are no gains without pains ; then lielp hands, for I have no lands, or if I have, they are smartly taxed. He that hath a trade, hath an estate ; and he that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall never starve ; for " at the working man's house, hunger looks in but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff, or the constable enter ; for industry pays debts, while despair incrfjaseth them. What though you �IG have found no treasure, nor has any 11 relation left you a legacy, 4 diligence is the mot ^ e r good luck, and God gives all things to industi T- Then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work whilt^ ^ 1S called to-day, for you know not how much you be hindered to-morrow. 44 One to-day is wox^ 1 two to-morrows," as Poor Richard says; aru^ further, 44 Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day/' If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your own master ? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. NO GRUMBLING.—A TALE. An odd whim once possessed a country 'squire, that he would not hire any servant whatever, until ten pounds should be deposited between the master and servant; and the first that grumbled at any thing, let it be what it might, was to forfeit the money. Being in want of a coachman, not one round the country would venture to go after the place. Now it happened that one Thomas Winterbourn, a coachman of London, who had been discharged from a nobleman's family, was in that part of the country on a visit, and being acquainted with the oddity of the 'squire's whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on application, was admitted into the family. Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there for two months, that nothing was allowed him for < J �17 "breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and small beer. Being heartily tired of this kind of fare, he applied to the cook: 4 Cookee,' says Thomas, 4 is it the standing rule of this family to keep their servants on nothing but bread and cheese V 4 What!' says the cook, 4 do you grumble V 4 No, no, by no means, cookee,' replied Thomas, being fearful of forfeiting the money. But recollecting his master's park was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket and shot a fawn, skinned it, and brought it ;tO the cook. 4 Here cookee,' said Thomas, 4 take and roast this fawn for me immediately ; for I have an acquaintance or two coming down from London, to pay me a visit.' The cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to dress directly for her master; 4 What,' says Thomas, 4 cookee, do you grumble V 4 No,' replied the cook ; so down to roast went the fawn. The appointed time arrived that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any coming to his table occasioned him to ring the bell, to know the reason of i t ; the cook acquainted the 'squire with all Thomas's proceedings, who in a great hurry bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he found Thomas very busy in basting the fawn. 4 How got you that fawn ?' says the 'squire. 4 Shot it,' replied Thomas. 4 Where ?' says the 'squire. 4 In your park,' replied Thomas. 4 By whose orders?' 4 Do you grumble ? says quoth the 'squire. Thomas. 4 No, Thomas,' says the 'squire; and retired to his dining-room, greatly perplexed at Thomas's proceedings. He instantly wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived near six miles from his house, and ordered that Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was obliged to comply, though with a sor- �18 rowful heart to leave the fawn. After his departure, the 'squire ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's return, he found himself fairly tricked out of the fawn ; and instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese, and small beer, his old diet; however, Thomas vowed within himself to revenge it the first opportunity. A little while after, the 'squire, (who was going to pay his addresses to a young lady,) gave orders to Thomas to get the carriage, together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the stable to the 'squire's house, he met a man with a small sandcart, drawn by two remarkably fine jack-asses. Thomas insisted upon an exchange, the horses for the asses, which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine harness to pieces, to fit these Arabian ponies, as he styled them. Matters being completed, he drove up boldly to the 'squire's, and knocked at the gate ; the porter perceiving the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter! 'C'up, c'up,' says Thomas, 'what's the fool laughing at?—Go and acquaint the 'squire his carriage is ready.' Shortly after the 'squire came, and seeing his carriage so beautifully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonishment. 4 Why, what the devil/ quoth the 'squire, 'have you got harnessed to my carriage?' 4 1 will tell you,'says Thomas. 4 As I was driving from your stable to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand-cart, drawn by these two fine Arabian ponies, and knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your horses for these two fine creatures ; they draw well, and are ornaments to your carriage ; only observe what fine ears they �19 have got?' ' D—n their ears and ornaments too,' says the 'squire : ' why, the fellow's mad! 4 4 What!' cries Thomas, 4 do you grumble V 4 Grumble,' quoth the 'squire, 'why, I think it is high time to grumble: the next thing, I suppose, my carriage is to be given away for a sand-cart!' On Thomas procuring the horses again, he paid him his wages and forfeit-money, being heartily tired with the oddity of his whims, and declared that Thomas,, the London coachman, was the drollest; dog he ever met with. BROSE AMD BUTTER. During the time of Oliver Cromwell's Protectorship, the principal residence of Charles. II. was at the court of his sister in Holland; the laird of Cockpen, a staunch adherent to the House of Stuart, followed the prince thither, and attached himself to Charles' household. Cockpen, from his skill and proficiency in music, very much contributed to divert his iroyal master, by the impressive manner in which lie played the favourite airs of his native country ;; but none pleased Charles so well as the tune ®f " Brose and Butter." So partial was he to tlais air, that with 44 Brose and Butter" sounding iu his ears he was lulled asleep at night, and with 4C Brose and Butter" awaked from his morning slumber. At the Restoration, Cockpen returned to Scotland, where he found that, in consequence of his attachment to the royal cause, his estate had been attainted. Many were the applications lie made to have it put again in his possession, bui; all to no purpose. He at length went to London* but was coldly received by the �20 courtiers, put off with fair promises, and in all his attempts to gain an audience of the king,, he was baffled and thwarted. Having formed an intimacy as a musician, with the organist of the king's chapel, he solicited, and obtained, as a special favour, permission to perform on the organ before his majesty, at the royal chapel. Cockpen exerted his talents to the utmost, thinking to attract the attention of Charles, but all his efforts were unavailing. On the conclusion of the service, instead of a common voluntary, in a fit of despair he struck up " Brose and Butter," which no sooner caught the ears of the king than he flew to the organgallery. The regular organist, perceiving the vivid flashes of Charles' eye, was seized with such a panic, that he fell on his knees and protested his innocence. " It was not me, please your majesty, it was not me ! " — " Y o u ! y o u ! " exclaimed the enraptured monarch, as he hastily passed him,— 44 You never could play any thing like it in your life." Then addressing his old associate in exile,— 44 Odds fish, Cockpen ! I thought you would have made me dance."— 44 1 could have danced to 4 Brose and Butter,' once with a light heart too," replied the performer,"—but my adherence to your majesty's interest has bereft me of the lands of Cockpen."—44 You shall dance," said Charles,—44 You shall dance, and be the laird of Cockpen y e t . " ~ Accordingly the laird was immediately put in possession of his inheritance. CURE FOR A CRIPPLE. It happened on a Sunday evening, about thirty years ago, that two sheep-stealers had meditated �21 an attempt 011 the flock of a wealthy farmer in the parish of A , in the west neJik of Fife. The sheep were grazing in a park adjoining the village churchyard, and hard by the public road. The eldest and most experienced of the depredators recommended that only one of them should go in among the sheep, as it would not alarm vhem so much as two. Accordingly the younger thie/ was despatched to bring a sheep, while the other into the churchyard, and sat down upon a tlioroughstone to amuse himself till his companion returned. Now it so happened that John, the minister's man, had forgot to take home the Bible from the church, after the service of the day was over, which neglect was not perceived until the minister called for the books to perform the duty of family worship, when John was immediately sent to the church for the Bible, John not being possessed of a very daring spirit, and it being a dark winter night, was not very fond of visiting the abodes of the dead at such an hour ; but when he arrived at the churchyard gate, and got a glimpse of the man sitting on the thorough-stone, his hair stood on end, and his fears soon conjured the thief into a demon. Without more ado he wheeled about, and made the best of his way to the manse, where he related his wonderful story, telling them that he saw the devil sitting on a grave breaking dead bones. An old cripple medicant, who was quartered at the manse during the sabbath, (for the minister, contrary to the general character of liis brethren, was a very charitable man,) hearing John tell his appalling story, laughed at him, saying, " if I was as able to gang as you, I would soon bring the Bible."— " Well," says John, " if you will accompany me, I will carry you on my back, and we'll maybe be able �to bring the Bible atr/een us." The beggar agreed, and mounted Jo\m accordingly, after he had wrapped himself, in his grey plaid. When they came within view of the thief, John would very fain have tuvned, but the beggar spurned him -on, until they came within a very short distance of him, when he, supposing it to be his comrade coming with a sheep on his back, exclaimed, " Is he, -*a fat ane ?" John, whose heart was quaking before; on hearing this question put to him, could do longer resist his inclination to turn ; he threw the old man off his back, saying,44 Be he fat or be he lean, there he is to ye," and run what he was able. The medicant, finding that he was thus left to his own resources to appease the devil as he could, mustered all his strength ; and, strange to tell, his legs that had refused to perform their office for many a long year before, were suddenly strengthened ; he soon went past John, regained the manse before him, and was never lame after. SQTJK MILK WHOLESALE. Some time ago, the frolics of the honourable Mr , made a great noise in the nevfspapers. The following records one of the most whimsical acts of folly :— One morning, after having danced all night at an assembly, he sauntered out with the Marquis ofleaning over his arm ; and in crossing St. Andrew's square, found an old rustic standing before the door of Dumbreck's Hotel, with his cart full of butter-milk barrels. He quickly concerted with the Marquis, a scheme of fun, whereby the �milk of the old man found a very different destiny to what its owner intended. They first jumped up in front of the cart, seized the halter, and galloped, off, leaving the poor man to follow as best lie could—then took out all the spiggots, and in grand style drove along George Street, past the Assembly rooms, to the astonishment of the fashionables whom they had lately left; then down Frederick Street, along Prince's Street, and back again to St. Andrew's Square, all the time followed by the old milk-man, who, in the, agony of his heart, at seeing his valuable property deluging the causeway,, exhausted his whole vocabulary of exclamations, in giving vent to his indignation. With his s&y-blue. top coat flying behind him, and his rough-shod heels striking fire from the pavement, he pursued his ravished cart, shouting as loud as his exhausted lungs would permit.—"0! ye unhanged blackguards !—ye villains!—ye de'ils buckies !—I'll hae the law o' ye, gin there be law in Emburgh, ye vagabonds !—I'll get ye a better house than your father biggit for ye, ye rascals !— I'll get ye clappit up as sure's ye're leevin', ye rampaugin Emburgh hallanshakers ! " As soon as he arrived at the Hotel, the Marquis delivered the reins into his hand; but blue-bonnet vowed he would not quit him, till he had ascertained his name, and that of his companion. Mr — , put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a piece of paper, which he said contained the required address, and while the old man unfolded it, our young heroes took the opportunity to escape. The bit of paper turned out to be a ten pound note ; "Ah, stop, my bonnie lads," cries the appeased milkman, I've something to say t'ye—will ye need ony mair milk the morn ?" �24 INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY. It is reported the whole body of Sextons, or Grave Diggers, throughout the kingdom are preparing a petition to Parliament, praying that Temperance Societies may be put down, as any restriction laid upon the distilling of spirits would be the utter ruin of them and their families ! three parts in four of those that come to their warehouses, being obliged to the distillery for their passports thither ; not to mention, that the more they bury, the fewer there will remain to eat; and of course, that the free toleration and license of making, vending, and distributing strong liquors in every part of Great Britain, is the only remedy that can possibly render provisions cheap. DREADFUL DEED. A man in the last stage of destitution, came before the sitting Magistrate, at Lambeth Street, and stated that having by the operation of the new Poor Laws, been suddenly deprived of parish assistance, he was reduced to such extremity, that if not instantly relieved he must be driven to a deed that his soul abhorred. The worthy Magistrate instantly ordered him five shillings from the poorbox, and after a suitable admonition against giving way to despair, asked him what dreadful deed he would have been impelled to do, but for this seasonable relief ; " To work," said the man, with a dqep sigh, as he left the office. / finis, * ; � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/abd3dc6ff2fb0d828250efa9e62efd13.jpg 7c624b5278774a4fad8b8863f2a33838 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3493 Width 2127 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The select miscellany: a collection of pieces moral, historical and humourous by celebrated authors. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Wit and humor Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831103505154">s0615b37</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource '82' is printed at the bottom of the title page Woodcut image of a girl in a bonnet picking mushrooms, basket on her arm with a woodcut border on title-page. Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/10e29110fbc69d76b5eb222c63f0822c.pdf bbf73ea2002710fb40d655e7a38a8cfe PDF Text Text BLIND ALLAN, A TALE, FROM LIGHTS & SHADOWS OF SCOTTISH LIFE." PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. �_L Jtx.®^ ^ S L I & T i MOJl'i < : > ; t t o o b TO b w o c i a h b * b t h o j J .8H3JJ33XOOa SHT H03 dSTiflH^ �VOffj httfi e horJ^I'i B l I I D rfjo-.f ^ mob;; A L L A M . .>»> »> A l l a n B r u c e and F a n v y R a e b u r n were in no respect remarkable among the simple inhabitants of the village in which they were born. They both bore a fair reputation in the parish, and they were both beloved by their own friends and relations, He was sober, honest, active, and industrious,— exemplary in the common duties of private,—possessed of the humble virtues becoming his humble condition, and unstained by any of those gross vices that sometimes deform the character of the poor. She was modest, good tempered, contented, and religious—and much is contained in these four words. Beauty she was not thought to possess—nor did she attract attention ; but Whatever charm resides in pure health, innocence of heart, and simplicity of manners, that belonged to Fanny Raeburn; while there was nothing either about her face or figure to prevent her seeming even beautiful in the eyes of a lover �4 These two humble and happy persons were betrothed in marriage. Their affection had insensibly grown without any courtship, for they had lived daily in each others sight; and, undisturbed by jealously or rivalry, by agitating hopes or depressingfears, their hearts hsd been tenderly united long before their troth was solemnly pledged , and they now looked forward with a calm and rational satisfaction* to the happy years, which they humbly hoped might be stored up for them by a bountiful Providence. Their love was without romance, but it was warm, tender and true; they were prepared by its strength to makp any sacrifice for each other's sakes; and, had death taken away either of them before the wedding-day, the survivor might not perhaps have been clamorous in grief, or visited the grave of the departed with nightly lamentations, but not the less would that grief have been sincefe, and not the less faithful would memory have been to all the images of the past. Their marriage-day was fixed—and Allan Bruce had rented a small cottage, with a garden sloping down to the stream that cheered his native village. Thither,, in about two months, he was to take his sweet and affectionate Fanny—she was to. work with her needle as before—and he in the fields. No change was to take place in their lives, but a change of contentment to happiness; and if God prolonged to them the possession of health, and �5 blessed them with children, they feared not to bring them decently up, and to afford sunshine and shelter to the living flowers that might come to gladden their house. Such thoughts visited the souls of the lovers,—and they were becoming dearer aud dearer to one another every hour that brought them closer to their marriage-day. At this time Allan began to feel a slight dimness in his sight, of which he did not take much notice, attributing it to some indisposition brought on by the severity of his winter's work. For he had toiled late and early, during all weathers, and at every kind of labour, to gain a sum sufficient to furnish respectably his lowly dwelling, and also to array his sweet bride in wedding clothes of which she should not be ashamed. rl he dimness, however, each succeeding day, darkened and deepened, till even his Fanny's lace was indistinctly discerned by him, and he lost altogether the smile which never failed to brighten it whenever he appeared. Then he became sad and dispirited, for the fear of blindness fell upon him, and he thought of his steps being led in his helplessness by the hand of a child. He prayed to God to avert this calamity from him—but if not, to bestow upon him the virtue of resignation. He thought of the different blind men whom he had known, and as far as he could know, they all seemed happy. That belief pacified his soul, when it was about to �6 give way to a passionate despair; and every morning at sunrise when the fast advancing verdure of spring seemed more dim and glimmering before his eyes, he felt his soul more and more resigned to that final extinction of the day's blessed light, which he knew must be his doom before the earth was covered with the flowers and fragrance of June. It was as he had feared; and Allan Bruce was now stone-blind, Fanny's voice had always been sweet to his ear, and now it was sweeter still when heard jn tlie darkness. Sweet had been the kisses which breathed from Fanny's lips, while his eyes delighted in their rosy freshness. But sweeter were they now when they touched his eye lids, and he felt upon his cheeks her fast trinkiing tears. She visited him in his father's house, and led him with her gently guiding hands into the adjacent fields, and down along the stream which he said he liked to hear murmuring by; and then they talked together about themselves, and on their knees prayed to God to counsel them what to do in their distress. These Meetings were always happy meetings to them both, notwithstanding the many mournful thoughts with which they were necessarily attended; but to Allan Bruce they yielded a support �7 that did not forsake him in his hours of uncompanioned darkness. His love, which had formerly been joyful in the warmth of youth, and in the near prospect of enjoyment, was now chastened by the sad sense of his unfortunate condition, and rendered thereby a deep and devout emotion which had its comfort in its own unwitnessed privacy and imperishable truth. The tones of hte Fanny's voice were with him on his midnight bed, when his affliction was like to overcome his fortitude ; and to know that he was still tenderly beloved by that gentle and innocent friend, was a thought that gave light to darkness, and suffered sleep to fall balmily on lids that shut up eyes already dark as in profoundest slumher. The meek fold of her pitying embrace was with him in the vague uncertainty of h ted reams; and often he saw faces in his sleep beaming consolation upon him, that always assumed at last Fanny's features, and as they grew more distinct, brightened up into a perfect likeness of his own faithful and disinterested maiden. He lay down with her image, because it was in his evening prayers; he rose up with her image, or it came gliding in upon him, as he knelt down at his bed-side in the warm beams of the unseen morning light. - i tloo bris a^B a id to elnemaeuirw mil i»i .auoin&q Allan and Fanny were children of poor parents; and when he became blind, they, and indeed all their friends and relations, set their faces against �8 marriage. This they did in kindness to them both, for prudence is one of the best virtues of the poor, and to indulge even the holiest affections of our nature, seems to them to be sinful, if an affliction from God s hand intimates that such union would lead to sorrow and distress. The same thoughts had taken possession of Allan's own soul; and loving Fanny Raeburn, with a perfect affection, why should he wish her, in the bright and sunny days of her youthful prime, to become chained to a Blind Man's Steps, kept in constant poverty and drudgery for his sake, and imprisoned in a lonesome hut, during the freedom of her age, and the joyfulness of nature ringing over the earth? " It has pleased God." said the blind man to himself, " that our marriage should not be. Let Fanny, if she chooses, some time or other, marry another, and be happy." And as the thought arose, he felt the bitterness of the cup, and wished that he might soon be in his grave. For, while his eyes were not thus dark, he saw many things that gave him pleasure, besides his Fanny, well as he loved her; nor had his been an absorbing passion, although most sincere. He had often been happy at his work, with his companions, in the amusements of his age and condition, with the members of his own family, without thinking even of his dear Fanny Raeburn. She was not often, to be sure, entirely out of his �9 thoughts, for the consciousness of loving her, and of being beloved, accompanied his steps, although he scarcely knew it, just as one who lives on a lake side, or by the murmur of a stream, may feel the brightness and the shadows of the one, and hear the constant music of the other, mingling as a remembrance or a dream with the inipressions, thoughts, passions, and feelings of his ordinary human life. But now, what had been less pleasant or necessary to him all faded away and he saw in his darkness, one image only—Fanny Raeburn— he heard in his darkness one sound only—Fanny Raeburn's voice. Was she to smile in another man's house ? Surely, that could not be; for her smiles were his and to transfer them to another, seemed to him to be as impossible, as for a mother to forget her own children, and pour with equal fondness her smiles upon the face of another who belonged not to her blood. Yet such transference, such forgetfulness, such sad change had been, that he well knew, even in " the short and simple annals of the poor," which alone he had read ; and who would blame, who would pity, who would remember the case of the deserted, and forsaken poor Blind Man ? Fanny Raeburn had always been a dutiful child and she listened to the arguments of her parents with, a heavy but composed heart. She was willing to obey them in all things in which it was h£r �10 duty to obey—bul here she knew not what was her duty. To give up Allan Bruce was a thought far worse to her than to give up life. It was to suffer her heartstrings to he hourly torn up by the roots. If the two were willing to be married, why should any one else interfere ? If God had stricken Allan with blindness after their marriage, would any one have counselled her to leave hira ? Or pitied her because she had to live with her own blind husband ? Or would the fear of poverty have .benumbed her feelings ? Or rather would it not have given new alacrity to her hands, and new courage to her heart ? So she resolved, meekly and calmly, to tell Allan that she would be his wife, and that she believed that such was, in spite of this affliction, the will of God. Allan Bruce did not absent himself, in his blindness, from the House of God. One Sabbath, after divine service, Fanny went up to him in the church-yard, and putting her arm in his, they walked away together, seemingly as cheerful as the rest of the congregation, only with somewhat slower and more cautious steps. I hey proceeded along the quiet meadowfields by the banks of the stream, and then across the smooth green braes, till they gently descended into a holm, and sat down together in a little green bower, which a few hazels, mingling with one tall weeping birch, had of themselves framed, a place where they had often �11 met before Allan was blind, and where they had lirst spoken of wedded life. Fanny could have almost wept to see the earth, and the sky, and the whole day, so beautiful, now that Allan's eyes were dark but he whispered to her, that the smell of the budding trees, and of the primroses thai he knew were near his feet, was pleasant indeed, and that the singing of all the little birds made his heart dance within him—so Fanny sat beside her blind lover in serene happiness, and felt strengthened in her conviction that it was her duty to become his wife. " Allan—I love you so entirely—that to see you happy is all that I desire on earth. Till God made you blind—Allan—1 knew not how my soul could be knit unto yours—I knew not the love that was in my heart. To sit by you with my work—to lead you out thus on pleasant Sabbaths —to take care that your feet do not stumble— and that nothing shall ever offer violence to your face—to suffer no solitude to surround you—but that you may know, in your darkness, that mine eyes, which God still permits to see, are always upon you—for these ends, Allan, will I marry thee, my beloved—thou must not say nay—for God would not forgive me if I became not thy wife/' And Fanny fell upon his neck and wept. �oe There waft something in the quiet tone of her voice—something in the meek fold of her embrace —something in the long weeping kiss that she kept breathing tenderly over his brow and eyes—that justified to the Blind Man his marriage with such a woman. " Let us be married, Fanny, on the day fixed before I lost my sight. Till now I knew not fully either your heart or my own—now I fear nothing. Would—^my best friend—[ could but see thy sweet face for one single moment now— but that can never be !"—'" *11 things are possible to God—and although to human skill your case is hopeless—it is not utterly so to my heart—yet if ever it becomes so, Allan, then will I love thee better even than ! do now, if indeed ray heart can contain more affection than that with which it now overflows." ?—•• Allan Bruce and Fanny Raeburn were married. And although there was felt, by the most careless heart, to be something sad and solemn in such nuptials, yet Allan made his marriage-day one of sober cheerfulness in his native village. Fanny wore her white ribbands in the very way that used to be pleasant to Allan's eyes; and blind as he now was, these eyes kindled with a joyful smile, when he turned the clear sightless orbs towards his bride, and saw her within his soul arrayed in the simple white dress which he heard all about him saying so well became her sweet looks. Her relations �IS and his own partook of the marriage feast in their cottage—there was the sound of music and dancing feet on the little green plat at the foot of the garden, by the river's side—the bride's youngest sister, who was henceforth to be an inmate of the house, remained when the party went away in the quiet of the evening—and peace, contentment and love, folded their wings together over that humble dwelling. From that day Allan and his wife were perfectly happy—and they could not help wondering at their former fears. There was, at once, a general determination formed all over the parish to do them every benefit. Fanny, who had always been distinguished for her skill and fancy as a seamstress became now quite the fashionable dress-maker of the village, and had more employment offered than she could accept. So that her industry alone was more than sufficient for all their present wants. But Allan, though blind, was not idle. He immediately began to instruct himself in various departments of a blind man's work A loom was purchased ; and in a few weeks he was heard singing to the sound of his fly-shuttle as merry as the bullfinch in the cage that hung at the low window of his room. He was not long in finding out the way of platting rush-rugs and wicker-baskets—the figures of all of which were soon, as it were, visible through his very fingers; and before six months �14 were over, Allan Bruce and his wife were said to be getting rich, and a warm blessing broke from every heart upon them, and their virtuous and unrepining industry. jr.uod lidilo rm od ot iliioiiaa^d z&u off?/ Allan had always been fond of music, and his voice was the finest tenor in all the kirk. So he began in the evenings of winter to teach a school for sacred music—and thus every hour was turned to account. Allan repined not now—nay at times he felt as if his blindness were a blessing—for it forced him to trust to his own soul—to turn for comfort to the best and purest human affections— and to see God always. Whatever misgivings of mind Allan Bruce might have experienced—whatever faintings and sickenings and deadly swoons of dispair might have overcome his heart,—it was not long before he was a freedman from ail his slavery. He was not immured, like many as worthy as he, in an Asylum ; he was not an incumbrance upon a poor father, sitting idle and in the way of others, beside an ill-fed fire, and a scanty board ; he was not forced to pace step by step along the lamp^lighted streets and squares of a city, forcing out beautiful music to gain a few pieces of coin from passers by entranced for a moment by sweet sounds plaintive or jocund; he was not a boy- �15 led beggar along the high-way under the sickening sunshine or the chilling sleet, with an abject that abjectly protruded with a cold heart for colder charity;—but he was, although he humbly felt and acknowledged that he was in nothing more worthy than these, a man loaded with many blessings, warmed by a constant ingle, laughed round by a flock of joyful children, love-tended and love-lighted by a wife who was to him at once music and radiance,—while his house stood in the middle of a village of which all the inhabitants were his friends, and of all whose hands the knock was known when it touched his door, and of all whose voices the tone was felt when it kindly accosted him in the wood, in the field, in the garden, by the river's side, hospitable board of a neighbour, or in the Church-yard assemblage before entering into the House of God. Thus did years pass along. Children were born to them-r—lived—were healthy—and weilbehaved. A blessing rested upon them and all that belonged to them, and the name of " Blind Allan" carried with it far and near an authority that could belong only to virtue, piety, and faith tried by affliction and found to stand fast. fcsf > 'io tbnild gflbd 'io.rooio^.'i^^au eux 9(1 i&di bh<s Ten years ago, when they married, Allan Bruce and Fanny Raeburn were among the poorest of �16 the poor, and had it pleased God to send sickness among them, hard had been their lot. But now they lived in a better house—with a larger garden —and a few fields, with two cows of their own— Allan had workmen under him, a basket-maker now on a considerable scale—and his wife had her apprentices too, the best dress-maker in all the country round. They were rich. Their children were at school,—and all things, belonging both to outer and inner life, had prospered to their hearts' desire. Allan could walk about many familiar places unattended ; but that seldom happened, for whiie his children were at school he was engaged in his business ; and when they came home, there was always a loving contest among them who should be allowed to take hold of their father's hand when he went out on his evening walk. Well did he know the the tread of each loving creature's footstep—their very breath when their voices were silent. One touch of a head as it danced past him, or remained motionless by his side—one pressure of an arm upon his knee—one laugh from a corner was enough to tell him which of his children was there; and in the most confused noise and merriment, his ear would have known if one romping imp had been away. So perfectly accustomed had he long been to his situation, that it might almost be said that he was unconscious of being blind, or that he had foi gotten that his eyes once saw. Long had Allan Bruce indeed been the happiest of the blind. �17 It chanced at this time, that among a party who were visiting his straw manufactory, theie was a surgeon celebrated for his skill in operations upon the eye, who expressed an opinion that Allan's sight might be at least partially restored, and offered not only to perform the operation, but if Allan would reside for some weeks in Edinburgh, to see him every day, till it was known whether his case was or was not a hopeless one. Allan's circumstances were now such as to make a few weeks, or even months confinement of no importance to him; and thongh he said to his wife that he was averse to submit to an operation that mi^ht disturb the long formed quiet and contentment of his mind by hopes never to be realized, yet those hopes of once more seeing Heaven's dear light gradually removed all his repugnance. His eyes were couched, and when the bandages were removed and the soft broken light let in upon him, Allan Bruce was no longer among [he number of the blind. There was no uncontrollable burst of joy in the soul of ?.llan Bruce when once more a communication was opened between it and the visible world. For he had learned lessons of humility and temperance in all his emotions during ten years of blindness, in which the hope of light was too faint to deserve the name. He was almost afraid to believe his sight was restored, Grateful to him was its first uncertain and wavering glimmer, as a �18 draught of water to a wretch in a cr)wded dungeon. Bur he nevv not whether it was to ripen into the perfect day, or gradually to fade back again into the depth of his former darkness. But when his Fanny—she on whom he had so loved to look when she was a maiden in her teens, and who would not forsake him in the first misery of that great affliction, but had been overjoyed to link the sweet freedom of her prime to one sitting in perpetual dark—when she, now a staid and lovely matron, stood before him with a face pale in bliss, and all drenched in the floodlike tears of an .(insupportable happiness—then truly did he feel what a heaven it was to see 1 And as he took her to his heart, he gently bent back her head, that he might devour with his eyes that bening beauty which had for so many years smiled upon him unbeheld, and which now that he had seen once more, be felt that he could even at that very moment die in peace. •tv>i;iurcfflo3 js 9iwn t^no ; • ; • JIJIQ fl it! U) In came with soft steps, one after another, his five loving children, that for the first time they might be seen by their Father. The girls advanced timidly, with blushing cheeks and bright shining hair, while the boys went boldly up to his side, and the eldest looking in the face, exclaimed with a shout of joy, " O u r Father sees !-—our �19 M Father sees ! ;—and then checking his rapture, burst into tears. Many a vision had Allan Bruce framed to himself of the face and figure of one and all of his children. One, he had been told, was like himself-—another the ima^e of its mother— and Lucy, he understood, was a blended likeness of them both. But now he looked upon them with the confused and bewildered joy of parental love, seeking to know and distinguish in the light the seperate objects towards whom it yearned; and not till they spoke did he know their Christian names. But soon, soon, did the sweet faces of all his children seem, to his eyes, to answer well, each in its different Jovejiness, to the expression of the voices s > long familiar to his heart. < Pleasant, too, no doubt, was that expansion of heart, that followed the sight of so many old-friends and acquaintances, all of whom, familiar as he had long been with them in his darkness, one day's light now seemed to bring farther forward in his affection. They came towards him now with brighter satisfaction—and the happines of his own soul gave a kinder expression to their demeanour, and represented them all as a host of human beings rejoicing in the joy of one simple brother. Here was a young man, who, when he saw him last, was a little school-boy -—here a man beginning to be bent with toil, and with a thoughtful aspect, who had been own joyous and laughing fellow-labourers �20 in field or at fair—here a man on whom, ten years before, he had shut his eyes in advanced but vigorous life, now sitting, with a white head and supported on a staff—all this change he knew before, but now he saw it; and there was thus a somewhat sad. but an interesting, delightful, and impressive contrast and resemblance between the past and the present, brought immediately before him by the removal of a veil. Every face around him— every figure—was instructive as well as pleasant; and humble as his sphere of life was, and limited its range, quire enough of chance and change was now submitted to his meditation, to give his character, which had long been thoughtful, a still more solemn cast, and a temper of still more homely and humble wisdom. Nor did all the addition to his happiness come from human life. Once more he saw the heavens and the earth. By men in his lowly condition, nature is not looked on very often perhaps with poetical eyes. But all the objects of nature are in themselves necessarily agreeable and delightful: and the very colours and forms he now saw fiilled his soul with bliss. Not for ten dark years had he seen a cloud, and now they were piled up like castles in the summer heaven. Not for ten dark years had he seen the vaulted sky, and there it was now bending majestically in its dark, deep, serene azure, full of tendei ness, beauty, and power. The �21 green earth, with all its flowers, was now visible beneath his feet. A hundred gardens blossomed —a hundred hedge rows ran across the meadow and up the sides of the hills—the dark grove of sycamore, shading the village church on its mount, stood tinged with a glitter of yellow light—and from one extremity of the village to the other, calm, fair, and unwavering, the smoke from ail its chimneys went up to, heaven on the dewy morning air. He felt all this just by opening his eye-lids. And in his gratitude to God he blessed the thatch of his own humble house, and the swallows that were twittering beneath its eaves. Such, perhaps, were some of the feelings which Allan. Bruce experienced on being restored to sight. But faint and imperfect must be every picture of man's inner soul. This, however, is true that Allan Bruce now felt that his blindness had been to him, in many respects, a blessing. It had touched all hearts with kindness towards him and his wife when they were poor—it had kept his feet within the doors of his house, or within the gate of his garden, often whan they might otherwise have wandered into less happy and innocent places—it turned to him the sole undivided love of his sweet contented Fanny—it gave to the filial tenderness of liis children something of fondest passion—and it taught him moderation in all things, humility, reverence, and perfect resignation of the Divine �22 Will. It may, therefore, be truly said; that whe* the blameless man once more lifted up his seeing eyes, in all things he beheld God. Soon after this time, a small Nursery-garden between Iioslin and Lasswade,—a bank sloping down gently to the Esk—was on sale, and Allan Bruce was able to purchase it. Such an employment seemed peculiarly fitted for him, and also compatible with his other profession. He had acquired, during his blindness, much useful information from the readings of his wife or children ; and having been a gardener in his youth, among his many other avocations, he had especially extended his knowledge respecting flowers, shrubs, and trees. Here he follows that healthy, p easant, and intelligent occupation. Among his other assistant Gardeners there is one man with a head white as snow, but a ruddy and cheerful countenance, who, from his self-importancp, seems to be the proprietor of the garden. This is Allan's Father, who lives in a small cottage adjoining—takes care of all the gardening tools—and is master of the beehives. His old iVlother, too, is sometimes seen weeding; but oftener with her grandchildren, when in the evenings, after school, they are playing on the green plat by the Sun Dial, with flov*ers garlanded round their heads, or feeding the large trout in the clear silvery well near the roots of the celebrated Pear Tree. �«8 •vi« diiW .noitBfiaibni aid oj inov anivha ni ANECDOTE. -it ; ori ?Jn9m9Visq rooil y-:* ^ni>lii1« - t e d bate -X9 <*i»i 8G buoi ^HJtiblttflSNtfrB'J C9nw*ll1 21d 1)91^ bs^rrfirino L*uo*w asnul b9i8u.f»«! f O * jicrmq Sowr Wholesale. \, I ni sd J> -rfj ni -; 'o - k! 9fl) 'iivl 1H Sometime ago, the frolics of the Honourable Mr made a great noise in the newspapers. The following records one of the most whimsical acts of folly :— One morning, after having danced all night at an assembly, he sauntered out, with the Maiquis of leaning on his arm ; and in crossing St. Andrew's Square, found at old rustic standing before the door of Dumbreck's Hotel, with his cart full of butter-milk barrels. He quickly concerted with the Marquis a scheme of fun, whereby the milk of the old man found a very different destiny to what its owner intended. I'hey first jumped up in front of the cart, seized the halter, and galloped off, leaving the poor man, to follow as best he could—then took out all the spiggots, and in s;rand style drove along George-street, past the Assembly Rooms, to the astonishment of the fashionables whom they had lately left; then down Frederickstreet, along Prince's-street, and back again to St. Andrew's-Square, ail the time followed by the old milk-man, who, in the agony of his heart, at seeing his valuable property deluging the causeway, exhausted his whole vocabulary of exclamations, �24 in giving vent to his indignation. With his skyblue top coat flying behind him, and his rough shod heels striking fire from the pavement, he pursued his ravished cart, shouting as loud as his exhausted lungs would permit, 1 O, ye unhanged blackguards !— ye villains !—-ye deil's buckies !— I'll ha'e the law o' ye, gin there be law in Embrugh, ye vagabonds!—I'll get ye a better house than your father ever biggit, for ye, ye rascals!—I'll get ye clapped up as sure as ye're Jeevin', ye rampaging Emburgh hallanshakers f As soon as he arrived at the Hotel, the Marquis delivered the reins into his hand ; but blue-bonnet vowed he would not quit him, till he had ascertained his name, and that of his companion. Mr — put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a piece of paper, which he said contained the required addresses ; and while the old man unfolded it, our young heroes took the opportunity to escape. The bit of paper turned out to be a ten pound note, ' Ah, *<top, my bonny lads/cries the appeased milk-man * I've something to say t ye—Will ye need ony mair milk the morn ?' FINIS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9dcaeaa25c7901c10f9de65466e5e574.jpg f00f7cc98685d302957a333ac6e6ef66 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 2953 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Blind Allan, a tale from "Lights &amp; shadows of Scottish life." Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks--Scotland--Falkirk Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943905663505154">s0615b38</a> Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Wilson, John, 1785-1854. Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a portrait of a man surrounded by flowers on title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [No Place] : Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0e945827f3cfdc493fc8e72a4a6f3de3.jpg 30c6e0a850db9df9dae3d1d4e9f7bde7 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3344 Width 2000 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0781b895da353464b9ba421a6c31389d.pdf 6c7006371ccbc9499fad162f17457b5a PDF Text Text FOUR Encelteixt Songs THE WONDERFUL WIG. MEG G' THE MILL. THE RAN TIN DOG TIIE DADDIE O'T. GILDEROY. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS 31 �SONGS. THE WONDERFUL WIG. In Holland there liv'd by Schdam, The brother of fam'd Mynheer Von Clam, Whose feelings of pride were very much gall'd, Because you must know that his head was bauld, Ri too la ro, So lie went and call'd upon Barbour Bombig, And told him directly to make him a wig,— For said he, I can't get any lady to wed With me till I get some hair on my head. Ri too la ro, &c. Then the barber began (not a moment to wait) And took the dimensions of Clam's bauld pate , And as it was Mynheer's desire, The springs were made of a new patent wire, Ri too la ro, &c. The wig was made and fitted well, Which made Von Clam look like a swell; But when it was fasten'd tight on with the spring*. Oh! he flew in the air just as if he'd got wings. Ri too la ro, &c. The barber was struck with wonder quite, To see the wig go up such a height. �3 So frighten'd was he that he quite ran awaj, And never was seen till this very day. Ri too la ro, &c. As to Yon Clam he continu'd to fly, Till he could nt be seen with the naked eye ; But with a telescope him you might see A flying about just like a parch'd pea. Ri too la ro, &c* It was about two years or more, Since poor Von Clam so high did soar, When in Holland was heard a most terrible sound, And something fell wop right slap on the ground, Ri too la ro, &c. The people all ran together in crowds To see what had fall'n from the clouds ; And they all in amazement were staring around, To see Von Clam sitting bang on the ground. Ri too la ro, &c. They put him to bed but 'twas near a week Before he recovered sufficient to speak; And the first thing he said when he'd taken a swig, 'Twas IVe been to the sun and he burnt off my wig. Ri too la ro, &c Says Yon Clam, From this time, I vow and declare, I never will wear a wig of false hair ; And whene'er I marry * without any sham, My wife shall have me just as I am. Ri too la ro, &c. �4 MEG W Tim MMk 0 ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten, An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ? She has gotten a >o©of wi' a cLaute o' siller, And broken the heart o* the feaiiey Miller. The Miller was strappin, the Miller was imddy ; A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady: The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl; She's left the guid fellow and ta'<en the churl. The Miller he hocht her ,a heart leal m d losing ; The Laird did address her wi' matter m®w aiaamng, A fine pacing horse wi'a clear chained bridle, A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle. 0 wae on the siller, it is sae {prevailing ; And wae on the love that is -fixed on a m&ileii ! A tocher's nae word in a true lovers parle, But, gie me my love, and a fig for the warl I THE RANTING BOG THE DADDIE O'T. O wha my babie-clouts will buy ? Wha will tent me when I cry ? Wha will kiss me wliare I lie? The ran tin dog the daddie o't.^— Wha will own he did the faut ? Wha will buy my groanin-maut ? Wha will tell me how to ca't ? The rantin dog the daddie o't.— �5 When I m>mt the eceepie chair, Wha will sit beside me there ? Gie me Rab, I seek -mair, The rantin dog the daddie Wha will crack to me my lane ? Wha will make me fidgin fain ? Wha will kiss me o'er again ? The rand n do/ the daddie o't. GILDEROY. Gilderoy was a bonny ooy, Had roses till his shoon ; His stockings were of silken soy, Wi' garters hanging doun. It was, I ween, a cornlie sight To see so trim a boy : He was my joy and heart's delight, My handsome Gilderay. 0 sic twa charming seen lie had! Breath sweet as ouy : He never ware a highland j»laid, But costly silken clothes. He gain'd the love of ladies gay, Nane e'er to him was coy : Ah, wae is me, I mourn tbe day For my dear Gdideroy. My Gilderoy and I were born Baith in ae toun together: �6 We scant were seven years beforn We gan to luve ilk ither: Our daddies and our mammies they Were fill'd wi' mickle joy, To think upon the bridal day Of me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy, that love of mine, Gude faith, 1 freely bought A wedding sark of Holland fine, Wi' dainty ruffles wrought; And he gied me a wedding ring Which I received w i ' j o y : Nae lad nor lassie e'er could sing Like me and Gilderov. Wi' mickle joy we spent onr prime Till we were baith sixteen. And aft we past the langsome time Amang the leaves sae green : Aft on the banks we'd sit us there, And sweetly kiss and toy ; While he wi1 garlands deck'd my hair, My handsome Gilderoy. Oh that he still had been content Wi' me to lead his life! But, ah, his manfu' heart was bent To stir in feats of strife. And he in many a venturous deed IIis courage bauld wad try; And now this gars my heart to bleed For my dear Gilderoy. �7 And when of me his leave he took, The tears they wat mine ee: I gied him sic a parting look! " My benison gang wi1 thee! God speid thee weel, mine ain dear heart, For gane is a* my joy , My heart is rent, sith we maun part, My handsome Gilderoy." The Queen of Scots possessed nought That my love let me want; For cow and ewe he to me brought, And e'en whan they were scant; All these did h onestly possess He never did annoy, Who never fail cl to pay their cess To my love Gilderoy. My Gilderoy, baith far and near, Was fear'd in every town ; And bauldly bear awa the gear, Of mony a lawland loun. For man to man durst meet him nane. He was sae brave a boy: At length wi' numbers he was tane— My winsome Gilderoy. Waeworth the loons that made the law* To hang a man for gear; To reave of life for sic a cause As stealing horse or mare! Had not their laws been made sae strick I ne'er had lost my j o y ; �6 Wi* sorrow ne'er had* wat my cheek For my dear Gilderoy. Gif Gilderoy had done amiss He mougiit hae banisiit been ;— Ah, what sair cruelty is this, To lang sic handsome men ! To hang the flower o' Scottish land, Sae sweet and fair a boy :— Nae lady had sae white a hand A3 thee, my Gilderoy. Of Gilderoy sae fear'd they were, Wi' irons his limbs they strung; To Edinborow led him there, And on a gallows hung. They liung him high aboon the rest, He was sae bauld a boy ; There died the youth whom I loo'd best, My handsome Gilderoy. Sune as lie yielded up his breath I bare his corps away ; Wi* tears, that trickled for his death, I wash'd his comelie clay; And siker in a grave right deep I laid the dear lo'ed boy: And now for ever I maun weep, My winsome Gilderoy. FI N I S. � Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Four excellent songs. The wonderful wig. Meg o' the mill. The rantin dog the daddie o't. Gilderoy. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830933505154">s0615b43</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The wonderful wig. Meg o' the mill. The rantin dog the daddie o't. Gilderoy. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a boy with a stick playing with a dog on title-page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Burns, Robert, 1759-1796 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact, Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/07cc35f64bc420fb99ae9a8d5609124b.pdf 9218badddc6b364f3e36fbf122ef4a5c PDF Text Text THE TRAGICAL BALLAD OF LORD JOHN'S MURDER; TOGETHER WITJI THE CRUEL BROTHER. £»w<xJ io(f }ui{i GLASGOW ILVHJ P.VA\ e PRINTED FOli THE BOOKSELLERS. 79. �LORD JOHN'S MURDEli. John stands in liis stablo door, Says lie, I will gae ride ; His lady, in her bigly bower, Desired him to bide. How can I bide, how can I bido? IIow shall I bide wi* thee? When I ha'e kill'd your ae brother, You liae liae mair but lie." If ye lia'e kill'd my ae brother, Alas! and wae is me ; If ye be well yoursel\ iny love, Tho less matter will it be! Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower, And take a silent sle<p, And I'll watch in my highest tower, Your fair body to ke«?p." LORD 49 44 44 She has shut her bigly bower, All wi' a silver pin ; And done i er to the highest tower, To watch that nane come in. �3 But as she looked round about, To see what she cou d see, There she saw nine armed knights Coine riding o'er the lea. God make you safe and free, lady, God make you safe and free! Did you see a bludy knight Come riding o'er the lea?" " 0 what like was his hawk, his hawk? And what like was his hound? If liis steed has ridden well, lie's pass'd fair Scotland's strand. " Come in, come in, glide gentlemen, And take white bread and wine ; And aye the better ye'll pursue, The lighter that ye dine." We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for your wine ; And I would gi'e my lands sae broad, Your fair body wore mine." She has gane to her bigly bower, Her ain gude lord to meet; A trusty brand he quickly drew, Ga'e her a wound sae deep. " What barm, my lord, provokes thine ire, To wreak itself on nif , When thus i strove to save thy life, Yet served for sic a fee'f" 44 44 4 �4 Ohon, alas! m j lady gay, To come so hastilie ; I thought it was my deadly foe, Ye had trysted into me. " 0 live, 0 live, my gay lady, The space o* ae half hour, And nae a leech in a* the land But l'se bring to your bower." How can I live, how shall I live ? How can I live for thee ? Ye see my blude rins on the ground My heart's blude by your knee! 0 take to flight, and flee, my love, 0 take to flight and flee! I wouldna wish your fair body For to get harm for me." Ae foot I winna flee, lady, Ae foot I winna flee ; I've dune the crime worthy o' death, It's right that I should die. 0 deal ye well at my love's lyke, The beer, but an' the wine ; For, ere the morn, at this same time, Ye'll deal the same at mine. 44 41 44 t4 44 THE CRUEL BROTHER. was three ladies play'd at the ba\ With a heigh-ho J and a lily gay ; THERE �5 There came a knight, and play'd o'er them a', As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The eldest was baith tall and fair, Witlra heigh-ho! and a lily gay; But the youngest was beyond compare, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The midmost had a gracefu* mien, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; But the -youngest look'd like beauty's queen, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The knight bow'd low to a* the three, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay; But to the youngest he bent his knee, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The lady turned her head aside, With a heigh-ho i and a lily gay ; The knight he woo'd her to be his bride, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. The lady bluah'd a rosy red, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; And said, Sir knight, I'm o'er young to wod, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 0, lady fair, give me your hand, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay; And I'll mak' you lady of a' my land, As the primrose spreads so sweetly.'' 44 14 �" Sir knight, ere you my favour win, "With a heigh ho! and a lily gay; Ye maun get consent frae a' my kin', As the primrose spreads so sweetly." lie has got consent frae her parents dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay; And likewise frae her sisters fair, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. lie has got consent frae her kin' each one, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay : But forgot to spear at her brother John, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. Now, when the wedding-day was come. With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; The knight would take his bonnie bride home, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. And many a lord and many a knight, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; Came to behold that lady bright, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. And there was nae man that did. her see, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; But wished Inmself bridegroom to be, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. Her father dear led her ^own the stair, With a heigh ho! and a lily gay ; And her si>teis twain they kis^djier there As the primrose spreads so sweetly. �7 Her mother dear l«d her through the close, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gny ; And her brother John set her oh the horse, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. She lean'd her o'er the saddle bow, With a heigh ho! and a lily gny ; To give him a kiss ere she did go. As the primrose spreads so sweetly. He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; And stabb'd the botinie bride to the heart As the primrose spreads so sweetly. She hadna ridden half through the town, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay, Until her heart's blood stained her gown, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. "Ride saftly on," said the best young man, • With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; For I think onr bonnie bride looks pale and wan, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. " 0, lead me gently up yon hill, With a l.eigh-ho! and a lily gay ; Ami I'll there sit down, and make my will, As the primrose spreads so sweetly/' " 0, what will you leave to your father dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" " The silver shod steed that brought ine here. As the primrose spreads so sweetly." 4 0 �8 " What will you leavo to your mother dear, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ?" " My velvet pall and silken gear, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." And what will you leave to your sister Ann, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ? " My silken scarf and my golden fan, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." What will you leave to your sister Grace, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay?" My bloody cloaths to wash and dress, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." What will you leave to your brother John, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" The gallows-tree to hang him on, As the primrose spreads so^ sweetly." What will ye leave to your brother John's wife With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay?" The wilderness to end her life, As the primrose spreads so sweetly." This fair lady in her grave was laid, With a heigh-ho ! and a lily gay ; And a mass was o'er her said, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. But it would have made your heart right sair, With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay ; To see the bridegroom rive his hair, As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 44 44 44 44 44 44 44 44 � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed36db03f066944696f3278fe41973c8.jpg 3fd9b54d2524b4da566c04ed493aecd6 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3129 Width 1878 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The tragical ballad of Lord John's murder; together with The cruel brother. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Ballads Songs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830993505154">s0615b45</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The cruel brother. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource '79' is printed at the bottom of the title page Woodcut image of two ruffians, one with a dagger in his hand, apparently robbing a gentleman of his money on title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search</a>/ Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9f3769a40cf9e66bb98504a5a0f8fa43.jpg 1bcaa185d936cbc7c3570ff4efdd503d Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3172 Width 1919 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a young woman (milkmaid?) wearing a hat and carrying two buckets slung over hoops encircling her skirt https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e4f5e3a27490ddb74496a0cc6c26cb7f.pdf 09d4a0a0e0a394d46e85b2b8ee3240f4 PDF Text Text F I V E SONGS. THE PECK 0' MAUT. 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. THE CONFESSION. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 64. �J3©fioa srwrt S O N G S , .TTJAM '0 yIOHH d i l l THE PECK 0 ' MAUT. O- WiHte hrew\itif pedc o' ltiatifc'* And Rab and Allan came to pree ; Three btythfef-HeirtV flight, Ye wadna found in Christendie. We are na fo'u, we're no that fou, But just a drapyie in oui;,e'e ; The efrdk'trtny ci-aw, tli'e (lay may daw', But aye we'll taste the barley bree. Here are we met, three merry boys, Three merry boys I trow are we ; And mony a night wcVe merry been, And mony mair we hope to be. We are na fou, &c. ||L . \ It is tt^ TfaooM I ken her horn, Thai • blinking in the lift sae hie; s She shines sae bright to wyb us hame, But by nay sooth she'll wait a wee. We are na fou, &c. Wha ffet sjiall rise to gang awa, A cucKola, coward loon is he ; Wha first beside his chaij* §hall fa', He is the king'iMfthg*m Three! in. wtvm '•% id J - >w �3 ADDITIONAL VERSES. Thus Willie, Ral), and Allan sang, Thus paas'd the night wi' mirth and glee, And aye the oh or tis a' night lang, Was, " As we're now, we hope to be." And ay they tog, " we are hi a fou, But just a drappie in eure'e,; The cock may craw, the day may daw', But aye we ll taste the barley bree. That time for them the cock did craw, The harbinger of morn to be ; That time for them the day did c.aw', Wi' gowden tint o'er tower and tree. And aye they sang, &c. That time for them the moon's pale horn Did wax and wain o'er land and sea, But now has dawn'd tlie hapless morn, That gilds the graves o* a' the three. Nae mair they sing, " We are na fou, Nae mair the drappie's in their e'e, Nor cock does craw, nor day does daw', Nae mair they'll taste the barley bree/? Thus Learning makes for Willie main, For Robin, Poesy wipes her -e'e, And Science wails for Allan gane, Since death's dark house hauds a' the three. �4 Then Britons mourn for genius rare, A' victims o' the barley bree, And ban the bree that cou'dna spare The youthfu' lives o1 a' the three. TIS THE LAST ROSE OF S U M M E R 'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companion Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes,. Or give sigh for sigh! I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem, Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them ; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle The gems drop away! When true hearts lie wither'd, And fond ones are flown, 0 ! who could inhabit This bleak world alone. �5 TO MARY IN HEAVEN. Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, A.^ain thou usher st in the day My Marv from my soul was torn. 0 mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast That sacred hour can I forgot ! Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past,— Thy image at our last embrace-;— Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, Oerhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sing love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care: Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear. �6 My Mary, dear departed shade! Where is thy pl$u?e, of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. The Lawland lads think they are fine, But 0 ! they're vain and idle gaudy ; tlow much unlike the gracefu' mien, And manly looks of my Highland laddie. 0 my bonriie Highland laddie, My handsome, charming Highland laddie ; May heaven still guard, and love reward, The lawland lass and her Highland laddie. If I were free at will to choose, To be the wealthiest Lawland lady, I'd tak young Donald without trews, With bonnet blue, and belted plaidie. 0 my honnie, &c. The brawest bean in burrows town, In a' his airs, wi' art made ready, Ccmpar'd to him, he's but a clown, He's finer far in's tartan plaidiq. 0 my bonnie,, &€.• O'er benty hill wi' him PM run, And leave my Lawland kin and daddie ; �7 Frae winter's cauld and summer's sun, He'll screen me wi' his tartan plaidie. 0 my bonnie, &c. A painted room, and silken bed, May please a Lawland laird and lady ; But I can kiss, and be as glad, Behind a bush in's tartan plaidie. 0 my bofmie, &c. Few compliments between us pass ; I ca' him my dear Highland laddie, And he ca's me his Lawland lass, Syne rows me in beneath his plaidie. 0 my bonnio, &e. Nae' greater joy I'll e'er pretend, Than th&t his love prove true and steady, Like mine to him, which ne'er shall end, While Heav'n preserves my Highland laddie. 0 my bonnie, &e. THE CONFESSION. With sorrow and repentance true, Father, I trembling Come to you ; I know I've too indulgent been To one, but oh! forgive the sin. To one whom still I love, tho' he Ungrateful proves, and false to me ; Then let me on my knees confess How I've been tempted to transgress. �Oh! rev'rend father, if you knew The charms of him, alas! untrue ; 0 had you heard the false one swear 1 was the fairest of the fair ; You could not, holy Sir, refuse So slight a weakness to excuse ; He swore my eyes were loveliness, Ah! let me then my fault confess. To grief, eternal grief a prey, His name is all my heart can say ; When bath'd in sad repentant tears, Still to my mind his name appears ; Yes, 'tis that name, that name alone, Which bends me now before thy throne Alcander—but I can't express, Oh ! Father, must I then confess ? Ah ! tell him, should he come to you, Should he, like me, for mercy sue ; Of all the crimes by heav'n accurst, Tell him inconstancy's the worst; Tell him that he who's false in love, Can ne'er hope pity from above ; Tell him that I alone can bless, And send him to me to confess. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 038: Title-page illustration of a milkmaid carrying two buckets. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five songs. The peck o' maut. 'Tis the last rose of summer. To Mary in heaven. The Highland laddie. The confession. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830863505154">s0615b46</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The peck o' maut. 'Tis the last rose of summer. To Mary in heaven. The Highland laddie. The confession. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut #38: Illustration on title-page of a milkmaid carrying two buckets '64' is printed at the bottom of the title page Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Highlands Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): bonnet Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: woman/women Object: bucket(s) Occupation: farmer Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a9671def3e099f9e004249e96fdca1da.jpg c7b377b254242f8e3efb4a9913e60463 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource "Welcome Charlie o'er the Main https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5bae6fe96be47b93b9bbb9b7647d9ed1.pdf e3e1c20212fbe971f22a318eb8a6419a PDF Text Text FIVE Favourite Songs. YE'MARINERS OF ENGLAND. THOU'RT GANE AWA. THE AULD MAN GAUN TO BE MARRIED. T H E W A R N I N G MOAN. THE HEATHER BELL. GLASGOW 5 FHINTEP FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, �SONGS. THE All LI) MAN GAUN TO BE MARRIED. In Beith there liv'd a frail auld man, His age was sixty-five an' ten, "Wha took a break, whan near his en', That he wad gang an' marry: The auld man that liv'd in Beith, The aged man that dwalt in Beith, The deein man that liv'd in Beith, He wad gang try an' marry. He lee'd an' cheated, pinch'd his wame, Grew rich by mony a dirty scheme, But he turned auld, an' stiff, an' lame, Black, crabbit, an' camstrary. < The rich auld man that liv'd in Beith, The worthless man that dwalt in Beith, The crabbit man that dwalt in Beith, Wad fain gae try an' marry. He thought on Meg sae trig an' douce, To wash his claes, an* clean his house, That ne'er a spider nor a louse In his abode might tarrv, �The aged man that liv'd in Beith, The dirty man that liy VI in Beith, The black auld man that wenn'cl in Beith Saw nae relief but many. He promised cash, he'd fetch lier braws, Himsel' an' a' within his wa's, Nae bittin horse nor empty sta's, But brimfu' cups to carry. The loving man that liv'd in Beith, The amorous man that dwalt in Beith, The frank auld man that dwalt in Beith, Wad gie his all an' marry. But ah, the road to her was lang, The man was frail, an* cou'dna gang ; His kin said things war, a' gaun wrang— The auld fool wad them herry. The frail auld man that liv'd in Beith, The cross'd auld chap that liv'd in Beith, The vex'd auld man that dwalt in Beith, They wadna let him marry. They watch'd him closely out and in, Said he was daft—they wad him bin', The frail auld Beith man didna win, To court his winsom deary. The captive man that liv'd in Beith, The daft auld fool that was in Beith, The auld man that liv'd in Beith, He ne'er got leave to marry. �4 Ye youngster a' that lieav my sang, Gif e'er ye marry, do't ere lang, For jtiijie arid care will ding ye wrang, An* ye'11 grow stiff and sairy. + Just like the auld black man in Beit!), The doitet worn out man o' Beith, The single man that liv'd in Beith, Wha coulclna maun to marry. Ye're just as claft's the man o' Beith, Your staunch auld friend that liv'd in Beith ; Ye'11 perish like, the man o' Beith, Wha dee't ere he could marry. When ye are auld, gin ye be poor, Your kin will drive you frae their door; Gin ye be rich they'll use you waur, They'll never let you marry. This fate befel the man o' Beith, The poor rich man that liv'd iji Beith, A warning to the folk o' Beith, To gang in time and marry. THOU'RT GANE AWA. Thou'rt gane awa, thou'rt gane awa, Thou'rt gane awa frae me, Mary, Nor friends nor I could make thee stay, Thou'st cheated them and me, Mary, �u Until this hour I never thought That ought could alter thee, Mary ; Thou'rt still the mistress of my heart, Think what thou wilt of me, Mary. Whate'er he said, or might pretend, Wha stole that heart o' thine, Mary, True love Fm sure was ne'er his end, Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary. I spake sincere, ne'er flatter'd much, Had no unworthy thought, Mary, Ambition, wealth, nor nae thing such— No, I lov'd only thee, Mary. Though you've been false, yet while I live, No other maid I'll woo, Mary ; Let friends forget, as I forgive, Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary, So then farewell, of this be sure, Since you've been false to me, Mary, For all the world I'd not endure, Half what I've done for thee, Mary. THE WARNING MOAN. A maiden fair lay dying, Within her palace hall, And round her couch was sighing, Her bright attendants all ; Her lately coroneted brow Feels many a rending throe, �0 And the hectic spot is spreading now, O'er her wan cheek of woe. Tis night, fond ones bend o'er her, With kind affection's fears ; As though they could restore her By their anguish and their tears ; No hope their hearts need borrow, For the watchdog's doeful cries, Tell the painful tale of sorrow, Ere morning's light she dies. 8he gazes round her wildly, When that sad sound is heard, Then greets her lov'd ones mildly, With a parting soul's regard ; But ere the morning's sun has shone, That fair one breathes no more, And the faithful watchdog's warning moan Is also liusli'd and o'er. THE HEATHER BELL. Oh! deck thy hair wi' the heather bell, The heather bell aloiie ; Leave roses to the Lowland maid, The Lowland maid alone. I've seen thee wi' the gay, gay rose, And wi' the heather bell,— I love you much w ith both, fair maid ; But, wear the heather bell. T �< F 1M For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which, breathes the mountain air, Is far more fit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. Away, away, ye roses gay! The heather bell for me ; Fair maiden, let me hear thee say, The heather bell for me, Then twine a wreath o' the heather bell, The heather bell alone ; Nor rose nor lily twine ye there— The heather bell alone, For the heather bell, the heather bell, Which breathes the mountain air, Is far more tit than roses gay To deck thy flowing hair. * 1 § YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. Ye mariners of England, Who guard our native seas. Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again, To match another foe, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. \ if While the stormy winds do blow, While the stormy winds do blow, T I flNHflHHHHHHi �While- the battle rages long'and loud, And the stormy tempests blow. The spirits of your fathers Will start from every wave ; The deck it was their field of fame— The ocean was their grave. Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts will glow, As you sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow. While the stormy winds do blow, &6. The, frieteor flag of England Must yet terrific burn, Till the' stormy night of war depart, And the star of peace return. Then to our faithful mariners The social can shall flow, Who swept through the deep While the stormy winds did blow. While the stormy winds did blow, While the stormy winds did blow, . While the battle raged long and loud, x\nd the storms of war did blow. J W HHHHI HHHH � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 081: Title-page illustration of a tall ship at sea. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Five favourite songs. Ye mariners of England. Thou'rt gane awa. The auld man gaun to be married. The warning moan. The heather bell. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830813505154">s0615b53</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Ye mariners of England. Thou'rt gane awa. The auld man gaun to be married. The warning moan. The heather bell. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Description An account of the resource '39' is printed at the foot of the title page Woodcut #709: "Welcome Charlie o'er the Main Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Outdoor Scene Transportation: ship/boat(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/45356acbd40106fb34f819e7d093590b.pdf 4452024e165c75bc647d5d18aed08662 Lesson Plan Instructional materials. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Teaching Module - Cinderella