50
10
639
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8c745a0885a1cf43dcc2f5366e0d6ea8
PDF Text
Text
�P O P U L A R SONGS.
A REFORM
SONG.
U P , my countrymen, Britons get up,
Why do ye sleep while tyranny rages ?
Like men do your duty* break tyranny's cup,—T h e d$ed will be deathless thro' ail future ages.
Then weather the storm,
A.nd suive for R e f o r m ;
Onward, united, our cause it is glorious;
T h e king is our friend,—
Till death we'll defend
Our freedom and rights—long may he reign o'er
us.
U p with the banner that tells we are free,
Down with the tyrant that dares to enslave us;
Plant round our island sweet liberty's tree,—
No nation for freedom shall ever out-brave us»
We tell to the world,
Our banner's unfurl'd,
The banner of freedom, the true Briton's glory.
Come, Britons, combine,
Our rights are divine;;
Fame will proclaim all our doings in story,
�3
Come, patriots, come united and sing,
Long life to the pillars and shields of our
nation;
God save our country, and God save our king.
The bulwark and friend of this great reformation.
We've told our condition
By pray'r and petition,
The learn'd and the wise now strive to defend us ;
W e hate all oppression,
And make our confession,
As Britons and freemen no tyrant shall bind us.
THE
ARETHUSA.
all you jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour s mould,
While English glory I unfold %
Huzza to the A re thus a I
She is a frigate tight and brave,
As ever stemmed the dashing wave ;
Her men are staunch
T o their favourite launch,
And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike we'll all expire,
On board of the Arethusa
COME
'Twas with the Spring-fleet she went out
T h e English Channel to cruize about,
When four French sail, in show so stou?f
Bore down on the Arethusa.
�4
T h e fam'd Belle Poole straight a-heatl did He,
T h e Arethusa seem'd to fly,
N o t a sheet or a tack,
G r a brace did she slack;
1 hough the Frenchmen laugh'd, and thought
it stuff,
But they knew not a handful of men how
tough
O n board of the Arethusa.
O n deck five hundred men did dance,
T h e stoutest they could find in France:
W e , with two hundred did advance,
O n board of the Arethusa,
O u r captain hailM the Frenchmen, ho !
T h e Frenchmen they cried out, hallo!
Bear down, d'ye see,
T o our Admiral's lee.
No ? no, says the Frenchmen, that can't be,—
T h e n I must lug you along with me,
Says the saucy Arethusa.
T h e fight was off the Frenchmen's land,
W e forc'd t h e m back upon their strand,
For we fought tiii not a stick would s t a M
Of the gallant Arethusa.
And now we've driven the foe ashore*
Never to fight with Britons more,—
Let each fill a glass
T o his favourite lass !
A health to our captain, and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew
Of the gallant Arethusa,
�5
T H E 3ASHFU'
WOOER.
ye come to woo me, Tarn,
Dinna at the window tap,
Or cough, or hem, or gi'e a clap,
T o 1st my father hear man ;
He's auld, and fail'd, and wants his sleep,
Sae by the hallan saftly creep,
Y e need nae watch* and glowr, and peep,
I'll meet ye, never fear man.
WHENE'ER
If a lassie ye wou'd win,
Be cheerfu' ever, bashfu* never
IJka Jock may get a Jen,
If he has sense to try man.
Whene'er we at the market meet,
Dinna look like ane hauf daft,
O r talk about the cauild and heat,
As ye were weather-wise, m a n ;
Haud up your head, and bauldly speak,
And keep the blushes frae your cheek,
For he wha hap, his tale to seek,
W e lasses a' despise man.
If a lassie, &e.
I met ye lately, a* your lane,
Ye seemed like ane stown frae the dead.
Your teeth e'en chattered i* your head,
But ne'er a word o' love, m a n ;
I spak, ye look'd anither way,
T h e n trimmel'd as ye'd got a flay,
�6
And owre your shouther cried, € gude d a y /
Nor ance to win me strave, man.
If a lassie, See.
My aunty left me threescore pun',
But ne'er a ane o' a' the men,
Till then, did bare-legg'd Eley ken,
Or care a strae for me, m a n ;
NoWy tiggen at me soon and latej
They're cleekin but the yellow b a i t ;
Yet, mind me, Tam, I needna wait,
When I hae choice o' three, man.
If a lassiej &c,
There Jives a lad o'er yonder muir,
H e has nae faut but ane—he's puir
Whene'er we meet, wi' kisses sweet,
He's like to be my death ? m a n ;
And there's a lad ahint yon trees,
Wad wade for me aboon the knees ^
Sae tell your mind, or, if you please,
Nae langer fash us baith, m.an.
if a lassie, &c.
'TWAS MERRY W
THE HALL.
Now ancient English melody
Is banish'd out of doors,
And nought is heard of in our day
But signoras and signors.
Such airs I hate
Like a pig in a gate;
�7
Give me the good old strain,
When 'twas merry in the hall,
And the beards wagg'd all:
We shall ne'er see the like again,
W e shall ne'er see the like again.
On beds of down our dandies lie,
And waste the cheerful morn ;
W h i l e our squires of old would rouse the day
f o the sound of the bugle horn*
And their wives took care
T o provide good cheer !
For when they left the plain,
Oh, 'twas merry in the hall,
And the beards wagg'd all!
W e shall ne'er see the like again,
'Twas then the Christmas tale was told
Of goblin, ghost, or fairy ,
And they cheer'd the hearts of their tenants old,
With a cup of good canary;
And they each took a smack
At the cold black Jack,
Till the fire burnt in their brain.
O h , 'twas merry in the hall,
And the beards wagg'd all i
May we all see the like again.
H E A R T S O F OAK.
COME, cheer up my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
T o add something more to this wonderful year j
�8
T o honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as W2 sons of the waves.
Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our m e n ;
W e always are ready,
Steady* boys, steady*
W e ' l l fight and we'll conquer again and again.
W e ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away ;
If they run f why we follow, and run them ashore,
For if they wont fight us, what can we do more.
Hearts of oak, &c.
They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes !
They frighten our women, our children & beaux ;
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore.
Hearts of oak, &c,
We'll still make 'em run ? and we'll still make 'era
sweat,
<
l a spite of the devil and Brussels G a z e t t e ;
Then cheer up my lads, with one heart let us sing,
Our soldiers, our sailors, our statestnen and king*
Hearts of oak, &c.
FINIS,
�
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Title
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Five Popular Songs. A Reform Song. The Arethusa. The Bashfu' wooer. 'Twas merry in the hall. Hearts of oak.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
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A Reform Song.
The Arethusa.
The Bashfu' wooer.
'Twas merry in the hall.
Hearts of oak.
Extent
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8 pages
Is Part Of
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Chapbook #14 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Subject
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Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock
Courtship and Marriage
mythology
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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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.
Publisher
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Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Date
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[18--?]
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Type
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ballads & songs
# of Woodcuts: 1
Animal: lion(s)
Animal: unicorn(s)
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: romance
Heraldry
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PDF Text
Text
Tak your auld cloak about ye.
Sweet home.
The Kebbuckston wedding.
We're a' noddin'*
Kf-LMAKNOCK:
FM.I N ' i F D
FOR
THE
BOOKftELLE iiS*
�SCOTS
SONG a
T A K Y O U R A U L D CLOAK A B O U T YE,
IN winter when the rain rained cauld,
And frost and snaw on ilka hill,
And Boreas w:' his blast sae bauld,
Was threatening a' our kye to kill :
Then Bell, my wife, wha lo'es na strife,
She said to me right hastily,
Get up, good man, save Crummie's life.
And tak your aula cloak about ye.
My Crummie is a useful cow,
And she is come of a good kin';
Aft has she wet the bairnies* mou s
And I am laith that she should tyne ;
Get up, goodman, it is fou time,
The sun shines frae the lift sae hie :
Sloth never made a gracious end,
Go tak your a odd cloak about ye.
My cloak was ance a good grey cloak.
When it was fitting for my wear,
But now it's scant!y worth a groat,
For I have worn't this thretty year ;
Let's spend the gear that we have won,
We little ken the day we'll die ;
Then I'll be proud, since I have sworn
T o hae a new cloak about me.
�3
in days when our king Robert rang,
His trews they cost but hau£-a~crown ;
H e said they were a groat our dear,
And ca'd the tailor thief and lown.
He was the king that wore a crown,
And thou'rt a man of laigh degree ;
'Tis pride puts a' the country down,
Sae tak your auld cloak about ye.
Every land has its am laugh,
Ilk kind of corn has its am hool;
I think the world has a' gaen daft,
When ilka wife her man wad rule.
Do ye not see Rob, Jock, and Hab,
How they are girded gallantlie*'
While 1 sit hurklen in the ase:—
I'll hae a new cloak about me.
Goodman, t wat, 'tis thretty years,
Since we did ane anither ken;
And we hae had atween us twa,
Of lads and bonnie lassies ten :
Now they are women grown and men,
I wish and pray weel may they be j
And why wilt thou thyseli misken ?
E'en tak your auld cloak about ye.
Bell, my wife, she lo'es na strife;
But she wad guide me, if she can,
And to maintain an easy life,
I aft maun yield, though I'm goodman
�4
Nought's to bt won at woman's hand,
Unless ye gie her a' the plea;
Sae r i l leave afF whare 1 began,
And tak my auld cloak about me.
S W E E T HOME.
'MID pleasures and palaces
Though we may roam,
Be It ever so humble,
There's no place like home,
A charm from the sky
Seems to hallow us there;
That seek ihrough the world,
Is ne'er met with el&ewhere.
Hornej home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home—there's no place
like home.
An .exile from home,
Splendour dazzles in vain ;
O give me my lowly
Thatched cottage again.
The birds singing sweetly,
That come at my call,
With them give me peace of mind,
More dearer than ail,
Homc ( home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home—there's no place
like home.
�5
Should I e'er return home,
O'erburdened with care,
My heart's dearest solace
I am sure to meet there.
The bliss I experience
Whenever I come,
Makes DO other place seem
Like that of sweet home.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home—there's no ..place
like home*
Farewell, peaceful cottage
Farewell, happy home,
For ever 1 am doomed
4 poor exile £o roam ;
This poor aching heart
Must be laid in the tomb,
Ere it cease to forget
The endearments of home*
Home, home, sweety sweet home,
There's no place like home—there's no place
like home.
KEBBUCKSTON
BEDDING.
AIJLD Watty o' Kebbuckston brae,
WV lear and readin' o' beuka auid-farren,
What think ye# the body cam o'er the day,
We gat a bidden,
To gang to the weddin\
�6
Bsith Johnny and Sally, and Nelly and Nanny ;
And f a m ©? the Knowes,
He swears and he vows,
At the dancin* he'll face to the bride wi* his grannie.
A' the iads has trystet their joes,
Slee Willie earn up an' ca'd on Nelly,
Altho* she was hecht to Geordie Bov*es,
She's gi'en him the gunk, an she's gaun wi'
Willie;
Wee Collier Johnny,
Has yoket his peney,
An's afF to the town for a lading o9 nappy,
W i t h fouth o' gude meat,
T o ser" us to eat,
Sae wi' fuddlm* and feastin* we'll a' be fu' happy,
W e e Patie Brydie's to say the grace ;
T h e body's ay reddie at dredgies and weddings \
And flunky M'Fee o' the Skiverton-place,
Is chosen to skuttle the pyes and the puddings;
For there'll be plenty
O' ilka thing dainty,
W i ' lang kail and haggles, and every thing fitting;
Wi" luggies o* beer,
Our wizens to clear;
Sae the deil fill his kyte wlia gaes clung frae the
meeting.
Lowrie has caft Gibby Cameron's gun,
T h a t his auld guscheir bare when he foHow'd
Prince Charley,
�7
The barrel was rustet as black as the grim',
Bur he's taen't to the smlddy, an's fettlet it rarely,
Wi' wallets o? pouther,
His musket he'll shouther,
And ride at our head to the bride's a' parading;
At ilka farm town,
He'll fire them three roun',
Till the hale kintra ring wi' the Kebbuckstoi*
wedding.
Johnny and Tammy maun ride the brouse,
For few like them can sit i' the saddle;
And Willie Cobreath, the best o* bows,
Is trystet to jig in the barn wi* his fiddle.
Wi* whisking and frisking.
And reeling and wheeling,
The young anes are like to loop out o' the bod^ ;
And Neiliie M'Nairn,
Though sair forfairn,
He vows hell wallop twa sets wi' the howdy.
Sawney Macnab, wi* his tartan trews,
Has hecht to come down in the midst oJ the caper,
And gie us three wallops o' merry Shantrews,
Wi' the true Highland fling o'M'Rimon the piper
Sic skipping and hipping,
And springing and flinging,
I'se wad that there's nane o' the lasses can waff it
Faith, Willie maun fiddle,
And jirgum and diddle.
And screed till the sweat fa? m beads frae hibaffit.
�8
Then gie me yo&r hand, my trusty friend,
And gte me your word my trusty an id kimmer,
Ye'll baith come o'er on Friday bedeeft,
And join us in ranting and tooming the timmer.
WV fouth o' gude liquor,
We'll haud at the bicker,
And lang may the maiien o' Kebbuckston -flourish;
For Watty, sae free,
Between you and me,
Pse warren he's bidden the half a* the parish.
W E ' R E A' N O D D I N ' .
And we*re a" noddin', nid, nid, noddin%
And we're a' noddin* at our house at ha me;
When the-Dame's awa' 'tis the time to woo,
And the'lads like lassesj and the losses lads too.
Kate sits i* the neuk,
her laddie sae trne s
And the Carle tak ye a' for you're a1 noddm' too;
And we're a> nodding nid, nid9 noddtn\
And we're a* noddin' at our house £t hame.
And we're a' noddin', nkh. nid, noddm', See.
And haw &< ye Kimmer, and how
ye thrive,
Aod how many bairns ha* ye, Kimnier I hae five;
And are they a? at hame, Oh na, na, na,
Twa o" them are gane wi* Willie far aw?'.
And we're a* noddin', ntd, nid, noddin', &c»
FINIS.
�
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Title
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4 Scots Songs. Tak your auld cloak about ye. Sweet home. The Kebbuckston wedding. We're a' noddin'.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
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Tak your auld cloak about ye.
Sweet home.
The Kebbuckston wedding.
We're a' noddin'.
Extent
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8 pages
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #2 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Subject
The topic of the resource
Courtship and Marriage
Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
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<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Language
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Scots
Format
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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.
Publisher
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Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Date
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no date
Type
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ballads & songs
# of Woodcuts: 1
Architecture: house
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: romance
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Gender: man/men
Gender: woman/women
Nature: tree(s)
Object: basket(s)
Outdoor Scene
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/80a10ddbf853426e2ae7381af2e8e278.pdf
93f0ecfc4ee77bdca7f5f31002a300d5
PDF Text
Text
4 Scots Songs.
Hibernia's lovely Jane.
Death of Sally Roy.
The Soldier's dream.
The birken tree.
KILMARNOCK:
P R I N T E D FOR T H E
BOOKSELLERS.
�SCOTS SONGS.
H I B E R N U ' S LOVELY
JANE.
D E P A R T I N G from the Scottish shore,
And the Highland mossy banks,
T o Germany I first-sailed o'er,
And joined the hostile flanks ;
At length in Ireland we arrived,
After a long campaign,
W h e r e a bonny maid my heart betrayed,
Hibernia's lovely Jane.
H e r cheeks were of the rosy hue,
T h e bright glance of her een*
Sparkled like pure drops of dew,
That bespangle the meadows gree<i4
Jane Cameron ne'er was half so lair,
Nor Jessie of Dumblane,
N o r prosper pine could not outshine
Hibernia's lovely Jane.
I oft have faced the daring foe,
W h e n in the blood-stained field,
I have escaped death's fatal blow,
But now to love must yield.
Cupid's dart has pierced my heart*
W i t h love's tormenting pain,
Since first I saw that lassie braw,
Hibernia's lovely Jane.
�3
My tartan plaid I will forsake,
My commission I'll resign;
The bonny nymph my bride I'll make,
If the lassie will be mine.
In Hibernians isle, where the graces smile,
For life I would remain-,
In hymen's band join heart and hand,
With Hibernia's lovely Jane.
But the bonny Irish lassie fair,
She feeing of high degree,
Her parents say their daughter ne'er
A soldier's bride shall be.
O'erwheimed with grief and despair,
No hopes for me r e m a i n ;
It grieves my heart for to part
With Hibernia's lovely Jane,
Should Mars the trumpet sound,
And call his sons to arms ;
And Neptune waft me o'er the main.
Far, far frae Jeanie's charms.
Should I be laid on honour's bed,
Or by a shot e'er be slain,
Death will cure what I endure
For Hibernia's lovely Jane.
Ye supreme Deities incline,
To tranquilize my breast,
I'll wander to some distant clime,
T o obtain peace and rest.
Through woods and groves,
Where none shall hear my strain^
�Since that nymph will not be mine,
Farewell Hibemia's lovely Jane.
D E A T H OF SALLY
ROY.
F A I R Sally, once the village pride*
Lies cold and wan in yonder valley:
She lost her lover, and she died,
Grief broke the heart of gentle Sally.
Young Valiant was the hero's name,
For early valour fir'd the boy.
W h o barter'd all his love for fame,
And kill'd the hopes of Sally R o y .
Swift from the arms of weeping love,
As rag'd the war in yonder valley,
He rush'd, his martial power to prove,
While faint with fear sunk lovely Sally,
At noon she saw the youth depart,
At eve she lost her darling j o y ;
Ere night the last throb ©f her heart
Declar'd the fate of Sally Roy.
T h e virgin train in tears are seen,
W h e n yellow midnight fills the valley,
Slow stealing o'er the dewy green,
Towards the grave of gentle Sally !
And while remembrance wakes the sigh,
W h i c h weenfr each feeling heart from joy,
T h e mourning dirge, ascending high,
Bewails the fate of Sally Roy.
�5
THE SOLDIER'S
DREAM.
O U R bugles had sung, for the night-cloud had
lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set the watch in the sky,
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
T h e weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot, and guarded the
slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And twice ere the cock crew I dreamt it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far far I had roam'd on a desolate track,
Till nature and sunshine disclos'd the sweet way
T o the house of my father, that welcorn'd me
back.
I flew to the pleasant fields, travelPd so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was
young,
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And well knew the strain that the corn-reapers
sung,
Then pledg'd we the wine-cup, and fondly we
swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never
to p a r t ;
�6
My little ones kiss'd me a hundred times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in the fulness of
heart.
Stay* stay with u s ! rest! thou art weary and
worn,
And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay *
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn*
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted
away.
THE BIRKEN
FREE.
L A S S gin ye wad think it right,
T o gang wi' me this very night,
And cuddle till the morning light,
By a* the lave unseen.
And you shall be my dearie,
My am dearest dearie,
And you shall be my dearie,
Gin you'll meet me at e'en.
I darena for my mammy gae,
She locks the door and keeps the key,
And e'en and morn she charges me,
And flytes ay about the men
She says they're a' deceivers,
Deceivers, deceivers,
She says they're a' deceivers*
I needna trust to ane.
�7
But lassie what's to hinder thee,
To steal an hour out owre the lea,
And meet me at the Birken Tree,
You'll no be mist at h a m e :
And never mind your mammy,
Yotfr auld canker'd mammy,
And never mind your mammy,
Or else you'll He your lane.
She simply said I dinna ken,
M y mother trots baith butt and benn,
And if she hears I'm wi' the men,
She'll ask me where I've been :
Then what can I say laddie,
Laddie, laddie,
Then what can I say laddie,
For being out at e'en.
O , never mind your mammy's yell,
I'se warrant she's met your dad hersel,
And should she fiyte ye may her tell
She's often done the same:
So lassie gi'es your hand on't,
Your bonny milk white hand on
So lassie gi'es your hand on't*
And scorn to lie your lane.
O, lad, my hand I canna gi'e,
But ablins I may steal the key,
And meet you at the Birken Tree,
T h a t stands ayont the g k n :
�8
But dinna lippen, laddie,
I canna promise, laddie,
So dinna lippen, laddie,
For fear I dinna win.
N o w he's gane to the Birken Tree,
In hopes his lover there to see,
And soon came tripping owre the lea,
His sweet endearing Jean;
And she clinket down beside him,
Beside him, beside him,
She clinket down beside him,
Upon the grass so green.
I'm overjoy'd with raptures now,
Cried he, and preed her cherry m o u ' ;
And Jean's ne'er haen cause to rue,
T h a t night upon the green
For she has got her Jemmy,
Her sweet dear loving Jemmy,
For she has got her Jemmy,
And Jemmy's got his Jean.
FINIS.
�
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Title
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Illustration on title-page of a dog barking at a figure (gender unknown), who is carrying a basket in an outdoor scene.
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Title
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Woodcut 086: Title-page illustration in a double ruled border of a dog barking at a figure (gender unknown), carrying a basket. Outdoor scene.
Document
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Title
A name given to the resource
4 Scots Songs. Hibernia's lovely Jane. Death of Sally Roy. The Soldier's dream. The birken tree.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Hibernia's lovely Jane.
Death of Sally Roy.
The Soldier's dream.
The birken tree.
Extent
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8 pages
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #4 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Subject
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Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Description
An account of the resource
<span>Woodcut # 86: Illustration on title-page of a dog barking at a figure (gender unknow), who is carrying a basket in an outdoor scene.</span>
Language
A language of the resource
English
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
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.
Publisher
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Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Animals: dog(s)
Architecture: door(s)
Architecture: fence
Architecture: house
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): working class
Gender: unknown (adult(s))
Nature: cloud(s)
Nature: tree(s)
Object: basket(s)
Outdoor Scene
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/cd0cb1372916bce810041994422f0764.pdf
f9124a5d7111107ac925d3fff9488745
PDF Text
Text
4 Scots Songs.
When the kye comes harne.
Come under my plaidy.
Bonny Jean,
A word to the wise.
KILMARNOCK:
PRINTED
FOR T H E
BOOKSELLERS.
�S C O T S
WHEN
THE KYE
S O N G S .
COMES
H4ME,
T E L L m e y o u j o l l y shepherds that love the tarry
woo',
A n d all you jovial boys that whistle at the p l o u g h ,
T e l l me the greatest blessing that the tongue o*
man can name ?
5 T i s to w o o a b o n n y lassie w h e n the kye eomes
hame.
W h e n the k y e , & c .
The
blackbird builds her neat f o r the mate she
lo'es to see,
O n the topmost branch, and a happy bird is h e ;
H e pours his melting ditty, and love is all his
claim |
H e loves his b o n n y lassie when the kye c o m e s
ha me,
W h e n the kye,
W h e n the bramble-berry's a pearl, "and the daisy
decks the lee,
A n d the b o n n y - l o o k i n g gowan has faulded up its
�s
T h e lav'rock, f r o m the biue lift, draps d o w n , and
thinks nae sbame
T o w o o his b o n n y lassie w h e n the kye c o m e s
hame.
-sadgtd s d r s m s v i O
W h e n the kye, & c .
Its fluttering w e e bit heart rises high in its
W h e n the bonny evening star rises high
east;
O f a' the j o y s so dear, that the heart daur
name,
Is to w o o a bonny lassie, when the kye
hame.
W h e n the k y e , & c .
breast,
in the
hardly
comes
W h e n love shines so bright, the hale soul to c h e e r ,
T h e r e ' s love in every w h i s p e r , and j o y in every
tear;
T h e n o f a' the j o y s so dear, that the heart can
hardly frame,
Is to w o o a b o n n y lassie w h e n the k y e c o m e s
hame.
W h e n the kye, & c .
See yonder pawky shepherd h o w he lingers o n
the hill,
His sheep are in the fauld, and his lambs are
lying still,
H e daurna g a n g to bed, f o r his heart is in a flame,
T o meet his bonny lassie w h e n the k y e c o m e s
hame.
W h e n the kye, & c »
�4
A w a ' w i ' f a m e and f e i t u n e , what pleasure can
they g i e ;
W h a t ' s the art or pride of man, his life or liberty ?
G i v e m e the highest j o y that the heart o f man
can frame,
Is to w o o a b o n n y lassie when the kye c o m e s
hame.
W h e n the kye, & c .
COME UNDER
MY
PLAIDY.
C o m e under m y plaidy, the night's gaun to f a ' ;
C o m e in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the
snaw ;
C o m e under m y plaidy, and lie d o w n beside m e ,
T h e r e ' s r o o m in't, dear lassie, believe me f o r twa.
u
C o m e under my plaidy, and lie d o w n beside m e ,
M i hap ye frae ev'ry cauld blast that will b l a w ;
0 c o m e under m y plaidy, and lie d o w n beside m e ,
T h e r e ' s r o o m in't* d e a r lassie, believe m e f o r t w a . ' '
G a e w a ' wi' your plaidy, auld D o n a l d gae w a ' ;
I fear na' the cauld blast* the drift, nor the s n a w ;
G a e wa' w i ' your plaidy, I'll no lie beside ye ;
Y e might be m y g u t c h a r d ; auld D o n a l d , gae wa*.
1
I ' m gaun to meet Johnny, he's y o u n g and he's
bonny,
H e ' s been at M e g ' s bridal f o u trig and f o u braw ;
�5
0 there's nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae
tightly ;
His cheeks are iike roses ? his brow's like the snaw.'
* Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa%
T o u r Jock's but a g o u k , and has naething ava
T h e hale o ' his pack he has n o w on his b a c k ;
He's thretty, and I'm but threescore and t w a !
Be frank n o w
A t kirk or at
A bien house
A n d flunkies
and kindiy; I'll busk you ay finely ;
market they'll nane gang sae b r a w ;
to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
to 'tend you as fast as ye c a V
' M y father ay tell'd me, m y mither and a',
Y e ' d make a good husband, and keep me ay b r a w :
It's true I lo'e Johnny, he's gude and he's b o n n y ,
But waes me 1 ken he has naething a v a !
1 ha'e little t o c h e r — y o u ' v e made a g o o d o f f e r ;
I ' m now in air than twenty ; my time is but s m a ' !
Sae gi'e me your plaidy; I'll creep in beside ye ;
I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and
twa.'
She crap in ayont him beside the stane wa ? ,
W h e r e Johnny was list'ning, and heard her tell a ' ;
T h e day was appointed, his proud heart it dunted,
A n d struck 'gainst his side, as if bursting in twa.
H e wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary,
And thawless he tint his gate deep 'mang the
snaw.
�6
T h e howlet was screaming, while Jonny c r i e d ,
4 Women
* W a d marry the devii f wad he keep them b r a w . '
O the deii's in the lasses ! sae f o n d to gang b r a w ,
T h e y ' l l lie d o w n wi J auld men o ' fourscore an*
twa ?
T h e hale o® this marriage is g o w d and a carriage \
Plain love is the cauldest blast n o w that can blaw.
Y e dotards be wary, tak tent wha y e marry ;
Y o u n g wives in their coaches will whip and will
ca%
Fill they meet wi* a J o h n n y , that's vouthfu* and
bonnys
A n d he'll gi'e ye horns o n ilk haffit to claw.
BONNY
JEAN.
T H E R E was a lass and she was fair,
A t kirk and market to be seen,
W h e n a* the fairest maids w e r e m e t ,
T h e fairest maid was bonny Jean.
A n d ay she w r o u g h t her mither's wark,
A n d ay she sung sae merrilie:
T h e blythest bird upon the bush,
H a d ne'er a lighter heart than she.
But hawks will r o b the tender j o y s
T h a t bless the little lintwhite's n e s t :
�7
A n d frost will
A n d love
fairest flowers,
the soundest r e s t
Y o u n g R o b i e was the bra west lad,
T h e flower and pride o f a' the g l e n ;
A n d he had o w s e n , sheep and k y e ,
A n d wanton nagies nine or ten.
H e gaed w i ' Jeanie to the tryst,
H e d a n c ' d wi* Jeanie o n the d o w n ;
A n d lang ere witless Jeanie wist
H e r heart was tint, her peace was s t o w n .
A s in the b o s o m o* the stream
T h e m o o n - b e a m dwells at d e w y e'en ;
S o trembling pure, was tender love
W i t h i n the breast o> b o n n y Jean.
A n d n o w she works her mither's w a r k ,
A n d ay she sighs w i ' care and pain ;
Y e t wist na what her ail might be,
O r what wad mak her w e e l again.
B u t did na Jeanie's heart ioup light,
A n d did na j o y blink in her e ? e,
A s R o b i e tauid a tale o f love
A e e'ening o n the lily lea ?
T h e sun was sinking in the w e s t ,
T h e birds sang sweet in ilka g r o v e &
His cheek to her's he f o n d l y presfc*
A n d whispered this his tale o* l o r e :
�8
O Jeanie fair I lo'e thee d e a r ;
O canst thou think to fancy me !
O r wilt thou leave thy mither's cot,
A n d learn to tent the farms w i ' me ?
A t barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
O r naething else to trouble thee \
But stray a m o n g the heather bells*
A n d tent the waving c o r n wi' me.
N o w what could artless Jeanie d o ?
She had na will to say him na ;
A t length she blushed a sweet consent*
A n d love was ay between them twa
A
WORD
TO
THE
WISE.
I love y o u , by heaven, what can I say m o r e ?
T h e n set not my passion a-coolfcrg;
If you yield not at o n c e I must e'en give thee o ' e r ,
For I am but a n o v i c e at f o o l i n g .
W h a t nay love wants in w o r d s , it shall make up
in deeds,
T h e n w h y should w e waste time in stuff, child ?
A p e r f o r m a n c e , you k n o w w e l l , a promise e x ceeds,
A n d a w o r d to the wise is e n o u g h , child.
FINIS,
'
�
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Title
A name given to the resource
Illustration on title-page of a cow
Dublin Core
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Title
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Woodcut 110: Title-page illustration of a cow.
Document
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
4 Scots Songs. When the kye comes hame. Come under by plaidy. Bonny Jean. A word to the wise.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
When the kye comes hame.
Come under by plaidy.
Bonny Jean.
A word to the wise.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #6 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut #<span>110: Illustration on title-page of a cow.</span>
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Language
A language of the resource
Scots
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.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Animal: cow(s)
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/82d3372e78c6309615c08455696951c6.pdf
ad69b8c0c8b45af0f0352f63392a4d88
PDF Text
Text
Seven Fashionable Songs.
The Star of the East.
Ah!
why did I gather.
Are you angry Mother.
Come buy my Cherries.
Dunois the Brave.
Hope told a flattering tale,
Up, Comrades, up.
KILMARNOCK:
Printed for
the
Booksellers,
�T H E S T A R OF T H E
EAST.
O
F late you have heard of two lovers
That lived near yon castle so h i g h ;
T o the green woods they cftimes resorted,
While the owl from the forest did cry,
W h e n he-gazM on the blooming young creature^
Her beauteous enchanting eyes,
Evinced her heart it was captured
By one that soon did her despise.
They ranged the woods with great pleasure;
Their weary limbs oft did repose v
A "large spreading oak was their covert, :
'Twas there they their minds did disclose.
H e told her her worth was so precious,
That he never could her deceive y
Enraptuf'd with love she exclaimed,
If you do, my death on you I'll leave.
T h e rays of her pleasure shone brighter
Than the beams of the sun from on high5
But a dark dismal cloud soon appeared,
Proclaiming her ruin was nigh.
A breeze from that ocean of falsehood,
Did poison her pleasure with woe,
Till the heart of this young blooming creature
With sorrow was made for to flow.
�$
UnmovM with the groans that she utter'd*
He wantonly to her did say,
For marriage 1 am not disposed,
Then homeward he set ombu way.
She cried, remember your promise,
For you know that to you Tm with child:
Aspiring for one ikac v/as greater,
Th® star of the East he beguiPd.
Distracted she ran thjo' the woodlands,
Her boson) still heaving with pain ?
No answer wa« made to her sighing,
But the rocks that re-echoed again*
Soon death's icy drops hang suspended
On the brow of this beauty betray'd
To those boisterous waves she's now beaded,
In death's robes she now is array'd.
When I visit the tomb of this lassie,
Some spirit it whispers to me,
A victim to love lies here ouried,
Where youth bloom'd in every eye.
No more by yon castle she wanders,
T o love she is no more a slave,
Bereaved of all earthly comforts,
Sne mouldering now lies in the grayf?
AH!
WHY
DID 1 G A T H E R .
A H ! why did I gather
(kli^a-re flower,
W h y pluck the young bud iron* the tree ?
�4
T w c u k l there have bloom'd lovely for many a *
hour,
And how soon will it perish with me ?
Already its beautiful texture decays,
Already it fades on my sight;
Mis thus that chill rancour too often o'erpowert
The moments of transient delight.
W h e n eagerly pressing enjoyment too near,
Its blossoms we gacher In haste;
H o w oft thus we mourn with a penitent tear^
O'er the joys which we lavished in waste:'
This elegant flower had I left it at rest*
Might still have delighted' my eyes;
But pluck-d prematurely, and pkc'd in my breast,
It languishes, withers, and dies.
ARE YOU ANGRY
MOTHER.
A R E you angry mother ? — mother, no ! no no !
no n o !
Should I sad and peevish g r o w , — 1 1 0 ! no n o !
no n o !
W h e n I see our sky so bright,
A n d our fields so warm with light,
Oh ! I feel as I had wings,
A n d the heart within me sings.
T h e n , it may be I'm too gay,
But forgive me, mother, p r a y ;
�5
B e not angry with your boy,
One cross look will mar his joy,
Be not angry, & c .
Is it my fault that my heart
Sometimes plays too wild a part f
O f t when I have tried to be
G r a v e as age could fancy m e ;
Stepping with a sober pace,
Looking wit** a sober face,
Still my heart is wildly gay,
Spite of all I do or say.
Be not angry, & c .
COME B U Y
MY
CHERRIES,
C O M E buy my cherries beauteous lasses,
Fresh from the garden pluck'd by me *,
All on a summer's day so gay, sweet fruit and
flow'rs I cry,
Come then fair lasses pray, and of poor Sally
buy.
Come buy my roses youthful lovers,
And weave a garland for each maiden's hair j
All on a summer's day so gay, O h ! let not pleasure fly,
Come then fond lovers pray, and of poor Sally
buy.
�Sigh not that blossoms are so fleeting,
But sieze the treasure-tho' soon 'twill f a d e ;
Thus like a summer's day so gay, life's bloom will
gently fly,
Come then young lovers pray, and of poor
Sally buy.
BUNOIS THE
BRAVE.
I F was Dunois, the youagaiid brave, was bound
for Palestine,
But first he made his orisons before St. Mary's
shrine;
«« And grant immortal Queen of H e a v e n , w a s
still the soldier's prayer,
i s That I may prove the bravest knight, and love
the fairest fair." %
His oath of honour on the shrine,he gray'd it witk
his sword,
And follow ? d to the Holy Land the banner of his
Lord;
Where,, faithful to his noble vow, his war-cry
fill'd the air—
" Be honoured aye the bravest knight, beloved the
fairest fair,"
They owed the conquest to his arm, and this his
liege~!ord said,
" The heart that has for honour beat, by bliss
must be repaid—.
�7
My daughter Isabel and thou shall be a wedded
pair,
For thou art bravest of the brave, she the fairest
of the fair."
And then they bound the holy knot before S t
Mary's shrine,
That makes a Paradise on earth, if hearts and
hands combine*
And every Lord and Lady bright that were in
chapel there*
Cried* " Honoured be the bravest knight-^b©loved the fairest fair."
UP, COMRADES,
UP.
UP 5 comrades, up—see the morn's o'er the mountains,
Rouse from your slumber and rush on the foe ;
Though bright and clear now, e'er ev'ning the
fountains,
Dark with the blood of the slaughter^ shall
flow i
our last struggle for freedom and honour,
Blow your wild trumpets and call up the brave !
Fight for your country—shame is upon her !
On to the conflict, to die or to save.
Farewell, ye dear ones, that e'er the invader,
Wasted our vallies, h&ve &often'd and ch&rm'd.;
�8
T h e hearts of our country with feelings that made
her
Best belov'd home that romance ever warm'd.
H e r e to guitar we've been sighing inglorious ;
But spear and shield to our grasp now are giv'n,
W e ' l l meet again e'er the night, if victorious,
i f not, adieu t h e n — w e l l meet yet in heaven!
U p , comrades, up—see the morn's o'er the m o u n tains,
R o u s e from your slumbers and rush on the foe,
Though bright and clear now, e'er ev'ning the
fountains,
D a r k with the blood of the slaughter'd shall
flow;
A n d though w e d i e — w e shall yet live in story,
T r u e hearts w e l l prove to our country and
name,
Death may have terrors ; but still there's a glory,
In dying for native land, freedom, and fame.
HOPE TOLD
A FLUTTERING
H O P E told a flatt'ring tale,
That joy would soon return,
A h ! nought my sighs avail,
For L o v e is doom'd to mourn.
O h ! where's-the flatt'rer gone ?
F r o m me for ever flown,
T h e happy dream of love is o'er,
A n d life, alas ! can charm no more.
FINIS.
TALE.
�
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Title
A name given to the resource
Seven Fashionable Songs. The Star of the East. Ah! why did I gather. Are you angry Mother. Come buy my Cherries. Dunois the Brave. Hope told a flattering tale. Up, Comrades, up.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Star of the East.
Ah! why did I gather.
Are you angry Mother.
Come buy my Cherries.
Dunois the Brave.
Hope told a flattering tale.
Up, Comrades, up.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut image of two dogs and a small house on the title-page.
Subject
The topic of the resource
Ballads and songs
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #26 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Language
A language of the resource
English
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.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
# of Woodcuts: 1
Animal: dog(s)
Architecture: barn
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Nature: tree(s)
Outdoor Scene
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c3a2b328aeb757b25afe47b773a909d5.pdf
1aaac1f5107bb8c3d3cdd1730e433b19
PDF Text
Text
SEVEN
ENGLISH
Popular Sengs
Rule, Britannia.
I'm a Chicka-biddy.
Beauty in tears.
I cannot stay a minute.
Why di^J I gather this delicate flower
Mary I believ'd thee true.
A Soldier's gratitude.
KILMARNOCK:.
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
�ENGLISH SONGS.
FM A CHICK A-BIDDY.
THOUGH I am now a very little lad,
I f fighting men eannot be had,
F o r want o f a better I may do
T o follow the boys with a rat-tat-too.
I may seem tender yet F m tough,
And though not much of me* F m eight good
stuff,
O f this I'll boast, say more who can,
I never was afraid to face my man,
F m a chicka-biddy, see .
T a k e me now, now, now,
A merry little he
For your row, dew, dow.
Brown Bess TO knock about, oh, there's my j o y ,
W i t h my knapsack on my back like a roving
boy.
In my tartan plaid a young soldier view,
M y philabeg, and dirk, and bonnet blue :
Give the word, and I'll march where yoa
command,
N c b l e sergeant, with a shilling then strike my
band,
MY captain, whfcn he takes his glass,
M a ? like to toy with a pretty lass,
�s
For such a one Vie a roguish eye,
He'lJ never want a girl when I am by.
I'm a chicka-biddy, & c .
Though a barber has never yet mowed my chin,
W i t h my great broad sword I long to begin,
Cut, slash, ram, dam> oh, glorious fun*
For a gun pip pop, change my little pop gun.
T h e foes should fly like geese in flocks,
Even Turks should fly like Turkey-cocks;
Wherever qusrter'd I shall be,
Oh ! zounds ! how I'll kiss my landlady.
I'm a chicka-biddy, & c .
B E A U T Y IN
TEARS.
OH, weep not, sweet maid, nor let sorrow oppress thee,
T h y innocent bosom shall banish all fears,
Kind Heaven will protect thee, fair virtue caress
thee,
And angels will pity such beauty in tears.
But some cruel tyrants compassion ne'er cherish,
l a all their dark actions ambition appears;
They suffer the wretched to languish and perish,
And look without pity on beauty in tears.
?
How blest is the heart which with chanty floweth,
And tranquil the bosom which virtue reveres *
�4
How sweet is the balna which kind pity bestoweth,
T 0 soften the sorrow of beauty in tears.
But some cruel tyrants compassion ne'er cherish,
In all their dark actions ambiticn appears ;
They suffer the wretched to languish and perish,
And look without pity on beauty in tears.
I CANNOT STAY
A MINUTE.
Now where so fast ? a young man said
T o her he lov'd, one day,
W h e n she with blushes turn'd her head,
And cried, Don't stop me, pray.
But why this hurry ? he ic plied,
As Wythe -< any linnet
?»
Y e t still the pretty Emma cried,
I cannot st?y a minute.
B u t why not, dearest, tell me why ?
He still with ardour prest,
Then said, By that love beaming eye,
This haste is all a jest\
And could it by a bet be tried,
Right sure I am to win i t ;
Y e t still the pretty Emma cried,
1 cannot stay a minute.
Y v caii't, but Miss, said he, you must,
And shall go with me too,
�5
Nay more, I'll make, fey all that'sjast,
A bride this morn of you.
This morn, said she, make me a bride ?
There's something pleasing in i t :
Oh ! how I'm flurried, Emma cried,
Pray don't let's stay a minute.
W H Y DID I G A T H E R T H I S DELICATE.
FLOWER?
AH ! why did I gather this delicate flower,
Why pluck the young bud from the tree ?
Twould there have bloom'd lovely for many an
hour,
And how soon it will perish with me.
Already its beautiful texture decays,
Already it fades on my sight;
9 l i s thus that chill langour too often o'erpays,
T h e moments of transient delight.
When eagerly pressing enjoyments too near,
Its blossoms we gather in haste;
How oft thus we mourn with a penitent tear,
O'er the joys which we lavish'd in waste.
This elegant flower, had I left it at rest*
Might still have delighted my eyes j
But pluck'd prens»tureiy, and plac'd in my breast.
It ladguishesj withers, and dies,
�6
MARY,
I BELIEV'D THEE
TRUE.
M a r y , I believ'dthee true,
And i was blest in thus believing;
B a t now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving.
F e w have ever lov^d like me ?
Oh, I have lov'd thee too sincerely
And few have eVr deceived like thee,
Alas ! deceiv'd me too severely.
Fare thee w e l l ; yet think awhile
On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee,
W h o now would rather trust that smile,
And die with thee than live without thee.
Fare thee w e l l ; — I ' l l think of thee,
T h o u ieav'st me many a bitter token ;
For see, distracting womau see,
M y peace is go&e, rtiy heart is broken.
F a r e thee w e l l !
A SOLDIER'S
GRATITUDE.
W h a t e - e r my fate, where'er I roam,
By sorrow still oppress'd,
I'll ne'er forget the peaceful home,
T h a t gave a wand'rer rest.
T h e n ever rove life's sunny banks*
B y sweetest flow'rets strew'd,
�7
Still may you claim a soldier's thanks,
A soldier's gratitude.
T h e tender sigh, the balmy tear,
That meek eyed Pity gave,
My last expiring hour shall cheer,
And bless the wand'rer's grave.
T h e n ever rove life's sunny banks,
B y sweetest flow'rets strew'd,
Still may you claim a soldier's thanks,
A soldier's gratitude.
RULE,
BRITANNIA.
WHEN Britain firsts at Heaven's comman d,
Arose from out the asure main,
T h i s was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain.
R u l e , Britannia, Britannia, rule the waves,
Britons never shall be slaves.
The nations, not so bless'd as thee,
Must in their turn to tyrants fall,
W h i l s t thou shalt flourish, great and free,
T h e dread and envy of them all.
R u l e , Britannia, & c .
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
M o r e dreadful from each foreign s t r o k e ;
�8
As the loud blast that tears the skies
Selves but to root thy »ative oak.
Rule, Britannia, & c .
T h e e haughty tyrants ne'er shall t a m e ;
All their attempts to bind thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
And work their we, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia, & c .
T© thee belongs the rural reign,
T h y cities shall with commerce shine,
And thine shall be the subject main, A
And every shore it circle* thine.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
T h e Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Bless'd isle ! with matchless beauty crown\
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule, Britannia, &c.
F I N I S .
�
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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
Seven English Popular Songs. Rule, Britannia. I'm a Chicka-biddy. Beauty in tears. I cannot stay a minute. Why did I gather this delicate flower? Mary I believ'd thee true. A Soldier's gratitude.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Rule, Britannia.
I'm a Chicka-biddy.
Beauty in tears.
I cannot stay a minute.
Why did I gather this delicate flower?
Mary I believ'd thee true.
A Soldier's gratitude.
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut image of three feathers on the title-page.
Subject
The topic of the resource
Ballads and songs
War
Courtship and Marriage
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #28 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Language
A language of the resource
English
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.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Fashion (Clothing): regalia
Fashion (Clothing): upper class
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e3961b58863067b752ee1049ce223a04.pdf
2d4bc689381e3c0a2eee573cb1d8c280
PDF Text
Text
SEVEN ENGLISH
Popular Songs.
The Tyrolese Song of Liberty.
The Castilian Maid.
Faintly as tolls the evening ehiriie.
Oh! rest thee. Babe.
Farewell.
The Gipsy Wanderer.
God save the King.
KILMARNOCK:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
�ENGLISH SONGS.
T H E TYROLESE SONG OF L I B E R T Y every bosom boundeth,
Merrily oh ! merrily oh !
Where the Song of Freedom soundeth,
Merrily oh ! merrily oh !
There the warrior's arms shed more splendour.
There the maiden's charms shine more tender*
Every joy the land surroundeth,
Merrily oh! merrily oh !
MERRILY
Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily oh ! wearily oh !
Where the bond of slavery twineth,
Wearily oh ! wearily oh!
There the warrior's dart hath no fleetmess,
There the maiden's heart hath no sweetness,
Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily oh 1 wearily oh i
Cheerily then from hill and valley,
Cheerily oh ! cheerily oh !
Like your native fountains sally,
Cheerily oh ! cheerily oh J
�3
If a glorious death won by bravery,
Sweeter be than breath sigh'd in slavery, «
Round the Flag of Freedo*. rally,
Cheerily oh ! cheerily oh !
T H E CASFILIAN
MAID.
OH ! remember the time in Lamancha's shades,
When our moments so blissfully flew
When you'd calPd me the flower of Castiliaa
maids,
And I blush'd to be call'd so by you.
When I taught you to warble the gay Seguadille,
And to dance to the light Castanet.
Oh ! never, dear youth, let you roam where you
will,
The delight of those momeats forget.
They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle,
Every hour a new passion can feel;
And that soon in the light of some lovlier smile,
You'll forget the poor maid of Castile.
But they know not how brave in the battle you
are,
Or they never could think you would rove ;
For 'tis always the spirit, most gallant in war,
That is fondest and truest in love.
C i N A D I AN B O A T S O N G .
FAINTLY as tolls the evening chirfte,
O u r voices keep tune,, and our oars beat time j
�4
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll cheerfully sing our parting hymn*
Row, brothers, row; the stream runs fasfc,
The Rapid's are near, and the daylight's past.
Why should we yet our sail unfurl ?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But when the wind blows off the thore,
Oh ! sweetly we'll rest upon our oar.
Blow, brieves, blow * the. stream runs fast,
The Rapid's are near, and the daylight's past.
O H ! REST THE®, BABE.
Q r ! slumber, my darling, thy sire is a knight,
Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright,
The hiils and the dalss from the tow'r?, which
we see,
They all shall belong, my dear infant, to thee.
O h ! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep on till
day,
O h ! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep w,hile
you may.
Oh ! rest thee, my darling, the time it shall come,
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and
drum,
T h e n rest thee, my darling, oh ! sleep while you
may,
For war comes with manhood, as light comes
with dav*
�5
Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep on till
day,
Oh! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep while
you may.
0 ^ , hark thee, young Henry! thy sire is a
knight,
Thy mother a lady so lovely and bright;
I h e hills and the dales from yon tow'rs that I
see,
They all shall belong, my young Henry, to thee.
Oh ! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep on till
day,
Oh ! rest thee babe, rest thee babe, sleep while
you may.
THE GIFSY
WANDERER.
Twas night and the farmer his fireside near,
O'er a pipe quafPd his ale stout and old*
The hinds were in bed, when a voice struck his
earLet me in, I beseech you—just so ran the
prayer—
Let me in, I am dying with cold.
To his servant the farmer cry'd—Sue, move thy
feet,
And admit, the poor wretch from the storm,
For our chimney will not lose a jot of its heat,
�1
Although the night-wand'rer may there find a
seat,
And beside our wood embers grow warm.
At thatinstant a Gipsy girl, humble in pace,
Bent before him his pity to crave—
He, starting, exclaimed—wicked fiend, quit this
place—
A parent's curse light on the whole Gipsy race!
They have bowed me almost to the grave 1
Good Sir, as our tribe pass'd the church-yard
below,
I just paus'd the turf grave to survey
I fancied the spot where my mother lies low,
AVhen suddenly came on a thick fall of snow,
And I know not a step of my way.
This is craft, cried the farmer, if I judge aright :
I suspect thy curst gang may be near 5
Thou would'st open the door to the ruffians of
night;
Thy eyes o'er the plunder now rove with delight,
And on me with sly treachery leer!
With a shriek on the floor the young Gipsy girl
fell!
Help ! cried Susan, your child to uprear !
Your long stolen child! —she remembers you well!
And the terrors and joys in her bosom that swell*
A r e too mighty for nature to bear.
�7
FAREWELL.
IN that cottage my father long dwelt,
Till call'd the proud foe to repel,
With a heart that each keen passion felt,
He bade his companions farewell;
While in distance he echo'd the sound,
A sound i shall ever deplore,
Farewell! Farewell!
Alas! I shall ne'er see him more.
Shouts of victory honour'd the day,
Wken bravely in battle he fell,
Far, far from his village away,
Where he bade his companions farewell,
While in distance, &c.
G O D SAVE T H E K I N G .
GOD save great George our king,
Long live our noble king,
God save the king !
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us.
God save the king!
O Lord our God arise,
Scatter his enemies,
And make them fall!
�8
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks:
On him our hearts we fix,
O save us all
Thy choicest gifts in store
On him be pleas'd to pour
Long may he reign !
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing wiih heart and voice,
God save the king !
O grant him long to see
Friendship and unity
Always increase 1
May he his sceptre sway,
All toyal souls obey,
Join heart and voice, huzza,
God save the king I
FINIS.
�
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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
Seven English Popular Songs. The Tyrolese Song of Liberty. The Castilian Maid. Faintly as tolls the evening chime. Oh! rest thee, Babe. Farewell. The Gipsy Wanderer. God save the King.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Tyrolese Song of Liberty.
The Castilian Maid.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime.
Oh! rest thee, Babe.
Farewell.
The Gipsy Wanderer.
God save the King.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1815-1825?] per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Subject
The topic of the resource
Ballads and songs
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut image of musical instruments encircled in a vine on the title-page.
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #30 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Language
A language of the resource
English
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.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
# of Woodcuts: 1
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: no date
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Musical Instrument: harp(s)
Musical Instrument: horn(s)
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ef67430a4821f90545c81b8e8a271551.pdf
1949a852dbb44919eb4407177ecaa2ac
PDF Text
Text
SIX
P o p u l a r Seiig^
Coming through the rye.
Say, my heart, why wildly beatingWhen I was an infant.
Jockie to the fair.
Katty O'Lynch.
There was a jolly miller.
KILMARNOCK:
PRINTED
m
FOR T H E
BOOKSELLERS*
�POPULAR SONGS.
C0MEN' T H R O U G H T H E
RYE.
I F a body meet a body comin' through the rye,
if a body kiss a body, need a body cry ?
Ev'ry Jassie has her laddie,
Nane, they say hae I!
Yet a' the lads they smile on me
W h e n comin' thro" the rye.
Amang the train there is a swain
I 4§;vrly loe myself
But whare his hame,
what his name ?
I dinna care to telL
If a body meet a body com in* frae the town.
If a body greet a body, need a body frown ?
Ev'ry iassie has her laddie,
Nane they say hae I !
Yet a* the lads they smile on m e
W h e n comin' thro 1 the rye.
Amang the train, &c.
SAY,
M Y
H E A R T ,
W H Y
BEATING.
SAT, my heart, why wildly beating,
Dost thou auch emotion prove?
W I L D L Y
�3
Canst thou* when thy lover meeting,
Fear his truth, or doubt his love ?
N o , fondly no, my bosom sighs !
No, gently no, my heart replies.
T h e n , fond heart, be silent ever,
Be thy wild emotion o'er ;
For with doubt and fearing never
Shalt thou throb—no, no, no, never more,
No, no, no, never never more.
Light of life, and life's best blessing
Is the love that meets return *
,
Shall J, that rich boon possessing,
E'er the matchless blessing spurn ?
No, fondly no, my bosom sighs !
No, gently no, my heart replies,
T h e n be joy my inmate ever,
^
Since each anxious dread is o'er,
For with fear and doubting never
Shall it throb—no, no, no, neve* more,
No, no, no, never never more.
W H E N I W A S AN I N F A N T .
I was an infant, mammy would say,
Fd when older>
Be a soldier!
Rattles and toys, I threw them away,
Unieis a gun or a sabre.
W h e n a younker, up I grew*
Saw one day a grand review*
WHEN
�4
Colours flying,
Set me dying,
T o embark in life so new.
Roll drums merrily, march away,
Soldiers 1 glory
Lives in story,
His laurels are green when his locks are grey !
T h e n hey for the life of a soldier.
Listed—to battle I march'd along,
Courting danger,
Fear a stranger;
The cannon beat time to the trumpet's song,
And made my heart a hero's.
< Charge l* the gallant leaders cry v
On like iions then we fly,
Blood and thunder,
Foes knock under,
Then huzza for a victory.
Roll drums merrily, &c.
W h o so merry as we in camp ?
Battle over,
Live in clover,
Care and his cronies are forc'd to tramp ;
And all is social pleasure.
Then we laugh, we quafF, we sing,
Time goes gaily on the wing.
Smiles of beauty,
Sweeten duty,
And each private is a king!
Roil drums merrily, &c»
NIL
�5
JOCKIE
TO
T H E
FAIR.
on the morn of sweet May-day,
W h e n Nature painted all things gay,
Taught birds to sing, and lambs to play*
And gild the meadows fair !
Young Jockie with the early dawn,
His Sunday's coat the youth put on,
For Jenny had vow'd away to run
With Jockie to the f a i r ;
For Jenny had vow'd, &c.
'TWAS
T h e cheerful parish-bells had r u n g ;
W i t h eager steps he trudg'd along;
While fiow'ry garlands round him hung,
W h i c h shepherds us'd to wear :
H e tapp'd the window, Haste, my dear:
Jenny, impatient, cried, W h o ' s there I
' T i s I, my love? and no one near,
Step gently down, you've nought to fear,
W i t h Jockie to the fair;
Step gently down, &c.
My dad and man are fast asleep,
My brother's up and with the sheep,
And will you still your promise keep,
Which I have heard you swear i
And will you ever constant prove ?
I will, by all the powers above;
And ne'er deceive my charming dove;
Dispel these doubts, and haste, my love,
W i t h Jockie to the fair.
Dispel these doubts, &c.
�6
Behold the ring, the shepherd cried*
Will Jenny be my charming bride,
Let Cupid be our happy guide,
And Hymen meet us there.
T h e n Jockie did his vows renew,
H e would be constant, would be true ;
His word was pledg'd, away she flew,
O'er cowslips tipt with balmy dew,
W i t h Jockie to the fair;
O'er cowslips, &c>
In raptures meet the joyful throng,
Their gay companions blythe and young,
Each joins the dance, each joins the song,
To hail the happy pair;
In turns there's none so fond as they,
T h e y bless the kind propitious day,
T h e smiling morn of blooming May,
W h e n lovely Jenny ran away
With Jockie to the f a i r ;
W h e n lovely Jenny, &c.
KATTY
G'LYNCH.
Katty O'Lynch lived at Ballinahinch,
And her sweetheart was called Mister Casey ;
H o w sweetly she'd cry, as he'd constantly sigh,
O h ! Paddy now can't you be easy !
And don't be coming over me with your
T u ral lal la, tu rai, Bee.
SWEET
�7
Oh ! Paddy now can't you be easy,
One morning, 'twas own'd, in her chamber
he found
A man that was not Mister Casey;
Arrali! who's this, says he ? 'tis my brother, says
she:
O h ! Katty, now can't you be easy,
And don't be coming over me with your
Fu rai lal, &c.
The next time they met, she cried out in a pet,
Arrah ! Paddy you've drove me quite crazy j
Since you are the boy, won't you marry me, joy*
Marry you, marry you,
Arrah ! Katty now can't you be easy*
And don't be coming over me with your
T u ra! lal, &c.
T H E R E W A S A JOLLY
MILLER.
was a jolly miller
Ance liv'd on the river D e e ;
H e work'd and sung from morn till night,
No lark more blythe than h e :
And thus the burthen of his song
For ever us'd to be,
I care for nobody* no, not I,
If no one cares for me*
THERE
�8
I live by my mill, how happy I,
She's kindred, child, and wife ;
I would not change my station
For any other in life.
No lawyer, surgeon, or doctor.
E'er had a grost from m e ;
I care for nobody» no, not I,
If nobody cares for me.
W h e n spring begins its merry career,
Oh how his heart grows gay;
N o summer drouth alarms his fears.
Nor winter's sad decay.
No foresight mars the miller's joy,
Who's wont to sing and say,
Let others toil from year to year,
I live from day to day.
Thus, like the miller bold and free,
Let us rejoice and sing,
T h e days of youth are made for glee,
And time is on the wing
This song shall pass from me to thee.
Along this jovial ring;
Let heart and voice and all agree,
To say long live the king.
FINIS.
�
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Title
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Illustration of a man and a woman in an outside scene; the
man is facing the woman and the woman is facing the viewer.
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Title
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Woodcut 088:Title-page illustration of a man and a woman. The man is facing the woman and the woman is facing the viewer. Outdoor scene.
Document
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Six Popular Songs. Coming through the rye. Say, my heart, why wildly beating. When I was an infant. Jockie to the fair. Katty O'Lynch. There was a jolly miller.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133903505154">s0499b33</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
Coming through the rye.
Say, my heart, why wildly beating.
When I was an infant.
Jockie to the fair.
Katty O'Lynch.
There was a jolly miller.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Burns, Robert, 1759-1796
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1820?] per G. Ross Roy Collection, University of South Carolina Libraries
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut #88: <span>Illustration of a man and a woman in an outside scene; the man is facing the woman and the woman is facing the viewer. </span>
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock
Courtship and Marriage
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
<a title="G. Ross Roy Collection, University of South Carolina Libraries" href="http://library.sc.edu/spcoll/britlit/roycol.html">G. Ross Roy Collection, University of South Carolina Libraries </a>
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Is Part Of
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Chapbook #20 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks
Language
A language of the resource
English
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
Format
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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.
Publisher
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Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 1
Architecture: fence
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1811-1820
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Edinburgh: Printed for the Booksellers
Gender: man/men
Gender: woman/women
Nature: tree(s)
Outdoor Scene
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/eee4f0bd6513d7e7f8bdf4a7e3a60d51.pdf
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PDF Text
Text
C a p t a i n
WEDDERBURJSTS
COURTSHIP
To which is added,
The Wandering Boy
STIRLING:
Printed
and Svld, Whblesttk and
by WtMA<$XE, BcokseHer.
Ettail,
�CAPTAIN" WEi>lMBBURL'S
COURTSHIP-
The Lord of festlrrt daughter,
Waik'd lino' the woods her lane,,
And by came Captain Wedderburn,
A servant to the King s
H e said unto his servant man,
W e r e it not Against the law,
* 1 would tak& her to my own bed,
And lay her next the wa\
I'm walking here alone, she says,
Ar/uuig my father's trees
And you m&^lfet me walk - alone,
\
Kind Sir, now if you please j.
The supper-hell it will be rung,
And I'll be raiss'd, you know j.
So I will not lie fti your bed,
Neither at slock nor wa',
H e says, my pretty lady,.
I pray lend me your hand 5
And you*H have drums and trufcpc£$>.
Always at your command 5
And fifty men to $u&rd youIvitli,
W k o well their swords. c.aa draw >
\
�And well both lie in ae bed,
And tkofi's lie next thejva'.
O hold away from me, kind Sir.,
I pray let go my hand y
The supper-*bell it will be runpgf
N o longer must 1 stand : »
M y father he'll no sapper take,
If I be miss'd, you know
So Fil not lie in your bed,
Neither at sto^k nor wa\
Then says the pretty lady,
I pray tell me-your name j
M y name is Captain Wedderhura,
A servant to the king.
Tho* thy father and his men were here,
Of them I'd stand no a^ve,
But jtvo.uld take thee into my bed,
And lay thee next the w a .
H e lighted off his milk-white steed,
And set this lady on,
And held her by tljje milk-white hand,
Even as they rode alone y
H e held her by the middle jump,
For fear that she should fa',
And said, I'll take thee to my W ,
And lay ihee nsxt the wa*.
�4
,
He^frok her to Ji:s locl^rng-housc,
H i s landlady lqok#d heiv;
4Safys, many ladies til Jidiijfeurghi Fve seen,,
But never such a one
f ^ r such a pretty face as this,
'
l a It I never saw,
G o ipafce her up a doWn-bed,
And
her npxt the wa,?.
O lipid a way from me, k\nx\ Sir,
JH.
I pray you l$fc me he 5
T o r X will not go to your tetl,
Till you d^ess me dishes ih&ee ;
Pishes three yo-u m*st dress to nie,
I f I ihmUl eat them a',
Before that I lie in your bedf
Either at stotfk o.r
0 I must, have to my kr^per,
A cherry without -a --artone
And I mast have to my 9 1 ppe r,
*
A chicken without a bone y
Aqfl I must have to
supp|r,
A bird wkhotii a ga*,
Before I lie into youu bed,
Either at afcoc-k ox wa',
V f e n the cherry h ifrfca the hfeoni^
s p e it halt! no -tttoe $
�5
And when the chicken is in it's shell,
I'm sure it hath no bone
The dove it is a gentle bird,
It flies without a ga',
And we shall both lie in ae bed,
And thouJs lie next the wa\
Hold away from me, kind 'Sir,
I pray you give me o er,
j&o'r.I will not go to your bed.
Till you tell me qdesirous four.
Questions four yo* must te 1 me,.
And that is twa and iwa,
Or I will noi lie in yuur bed,
Neither afe stock nor wa\
You must g f t me some winter fruit)
That in December g r e w j
And I must have a silk maotel,
That waft was ne'er cad thro" j
What bird sings be si, what wood bu^
What dew does on them fa* 5
Afid then Til lie into your bed,
Ef^her at stock ot
M y father has some winter fruit,
That aw December grew \
M y mother has a silk mantle,
Tiiat waft was ne\r ca'd thro' \
�The eoek crows first, cider bud3 first,
The dew does on them f a ' ;
So we'll both lie into xe bed,
And thou's lie next the wa'.
Hold away from me, kind Sir,
And do not me perplex \
For IM! not lie into yonr bed,
Till you tell ine questions six.
Questions six you must tell to me,
And that is four and ttfa,
Before I lie into your bed,
Either at stock or wa\
What is greener than the grass^
What's higher than the trees \
And what is wtrse than woman's voice,
What's deeper than the seas.
A sparrow s horn, a priest unborn,
This night to join us twa ;
Before i lie into your bed,
Either at* st^ck or waV
Death is greener than the grass \
Sky's higher than the trees \
The devil's worse than woman's voice,
Hell's deeper xhasn the seas ;
A sparrow's horn yoa may well get,
There's one on every pa',
�•7
And two upon the.gab. of it,
And you shall have them a*.
The priest he's standing at the gate,
Jusfc ready to come in j
N o man can say. that he was born.
N o many without a sin.
A hole c&iin his mother's side,
H e from the same did far;
So we shall both lie in ae bed,
And thou's Ue «oxt the wa\
O little did this lady think,
That mtrning when she rose,
That it was t© be the very last,
Of all her maiden days.
But there is not in the king's realta,
T o be found a blyther twa y
And now they tie into ae bed,
And she li«s next the wa\
THE WANDERING
BOY.
When the winter wind whistles along the wild moor,
The cottager shuts on the beggar his door,
When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye,
H o w hard is the fate of the w a t e r i n g boy^
�8
The whiter u cold and I have no place of test,
M y heart is so cold that it heats in my breast,
3STo father, np mother, no kindred have I,
For 1 am the poor little, Wandering Boy. I once had a home, I once had a sire,
A mother who gi anted each infant desire,
Onr cottage it stood embower'd in a vale,
Where the ring-dove it warbled its sorrowful tale.
But hiy father and mother were summoned away,
They left me to hard-ijearted strangers a
I fled from their rigour with many a sigh,
Bui now I am left a poor Wandering Boy.
The winter is cold, and the sndw loads the gale,
There is no one will listen to my innocent tale,
I will go to the grave where my parents do lie,
An<J death shall*be&itnff the poor Wandering Boy*
FINIS.
�
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Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. To which is added, The Wandering Boy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923281043505154">s0514b41</a>
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Wandering Boy.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1820-1830?] per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
15 cm
Description
An account of the resource
Woodcut image of a hunt scene on the title-page.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
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.
Publisher
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Stirling: Whiteside and Rexall
# of Woodcuts: 1
Activity: hunting
Animal: dog(s)
Animal: horse(s)
Architecture: fence
Bib Context: title-page
Chapbook Date: 1821-1830
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Publisher - Stirling: W. Macnie
Gender: man/men
Nature: tree(s)
Object: whip
Outdoor Scene
-
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https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/827d344efc7409daa0cf98b2216ffa4f.pdf
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PDF Text
Text
FOUR
CELLENT SONGS.
THE YORKSHIRE
THE IRISH
IRISHMAN.
SMUGGLER,
T H E K I N G OF T H E
GET UP
AND BAR
FAIRIES?
THE
DOOR*
�M W > f
I
f
S O N G S
THE YORKSHIRE
IRISHMAN,
My father was once a great merchant,
As any in Ireland is found ;
But faith! he could ne'er save a shilling.
Though tatoes he sold by the pound.
So says he to my mother one night,
To England suppose you and I go ;
And the very next day by moonlight
They took leave of the county Sligo.
Sing, fal de ral lal de ral la fal la de, <fec.
That the land is all covered with water,
'Twixt England and Ireland you'll own,
And single misfortunes, they say,
To an Irishman ne'er came alone:
So my father, poor man, was first drowned,
Then shipwreck'd in sailing from Cork :
But my mother she got safe to land,
And a whigky shop opened in York.
Sing, fal de ral, &e.
Just a year after father was dead,
One night about five in the morn,
An odd accident happen'd to me,
For 'twas then that myself was first born :
�3
All this I've b§en told by my mammy,
And surely she'll not tell a wrong ;
But I don't remember nought of it,
Gaze it happen'd when I were quite young.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
On the very same day the next year,
For so ran the story of mother,
The same accident happened again,
But not to me, then, that were brotherSo 'twas Settled by old Father Luke,
Who dissolved all our family sins,
As we both were born on the same day,
That we sartainly must have been twins.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
'Twas agreed I should not go to school,
As learning I never should want;
Nor would they e'en teach me to read,
For my genius, they said, it would cramp.
Now this genius of mine where it lay,
Do but listen a while and you'll hear:—
'Twas in drawing—not landscapes and picture?.
N o ! mine were for drawing of beer.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
Some with only one genius are blest,
But I it appears had got two ;
For when I had drawn off some beer,
I'd a genius for drinking it too.
At last I was drawn up to town,
Without in my pocket a farden ;
�1 0 3 3 3 5 3
4
But since I've earned many a crown,
By the shop here iii sweet Common garden.
Sing, fal do ral, &c.
Now the end of my song's drawing near,
111 tell ye, bnt that's nothing new ;
Now all my ambition's to try,
And do what I can to draw you ;
In which, if I do but succeed,
And my efforts beguile you of pain ;
I entreat you'll not Wait to be asked,
To come often and see me again.
THE IRISH
SMUGGLER,
From Brighton two Paddies walked under the cliff,
For pebbles and shells to explore,
When too a small barrel was dropt from a skiff,
Which floated at length to the shore ;
Says. Dermont to Pat, we the owner will bilk,
To-niglit we'll be merry and frisky,
I know it as well as my own mother's milk,
Dear joy, 'tis a barrel of whisky.
Says Pat, I'll soon broach it, a fortunate lot,
Now Pat, you must know was no joker ;
I'll go to Tom Murphy, who lives in the cot,
And borrow his kitchen hot poker.
Twas said and 'twas done, the barrel was bor'd,
No bachanals ever felt protfder,
�)o
When P a d d j found out a small error on board,
The whiskj, alas ! was gunpowder.
l1 ^
With sudden explosion lie flew o er the ocean,
And high in air sported a leg ;
Yet instinct prevails, when philosophy fails,
So he kept a tight hold of the keg.
But Dermont bawled out with a terrible shout,
I'm not to be choused, Mr Wiseman?
If you do not come down, I'll run into the town.,
And by St Patrick Til tell the Exciseman.
T H E K I N G OF T H E
FAIRIES,
A wee, wee man came to our toun en,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' he sang sae sweet, that the hale o' our men
Lap aff their looms the carle to see.
His cap was red, an' his breeks were green,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his jacket the shortest that ever was seen.
An' the queerest colour you ever did see.
B is nose was as flat as the back o' my han',
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his feet wad hae covered an acre o' lariY
Yet his Boots cam' up o'er the lid o' his knee.
His e'en were grey without ony white,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his teeth were as black as the middle o' night,
When the moon has forsaken this countrie.
�G
His legs were as bow'd as the half o' a ho#p,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his arms were sae lang, he ne'er needit to stoop,
For he picked up preens without bending his knee.
He laughed, and the hale o' the men o' our teuxi,
Fiddledum, faddledum', fee, fee, fee ;
Lap out o' their wits and fell down in a swoon,
The fient o* them had the power to flee.
He sang, and they sprang to their feet in a crack,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
Now what I relate is a notable fact,
For I was sleeping when I did it see.
He play'd them a jig, and the dancing began,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee,%fee, fee;
And he led them to where a big water down ran,
Where he douked them till they were like to die.
This queer wee man lap up on a hill,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee;
An' lie open'd his mouth like the door o' a mill,
I hope sic a mouth I will ne'er again see.
But thunder ne'er gied sic a terrible roar,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
As when he announced that the dancing was o'er,
An' bade them fareweel,. an' awa' did flee.
Weary and wet our men earn' hame,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee,, fee, fee ;
Air swore the wee man was surely to blame,
For using sic freedoms in ony coimtrie.
�n
i
Y e l l wonder what *same o' this wee, wee man,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, f e e ;
He bought a green coat—an' to fairy lan' ran,
An' now he is king o' that countrie.
G E T UP AND BAR T H E
DOOR.
There dwalt a man on Crawford moor,
And John Blunt was his name ;
He made gude maut, and brew'd gude ale,
And bore a wond'rous fame.
Now it fell upon a Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was than,
That Johnie's wife had puddings to make.,
And she boil'd them in the pan.
The wind swept cauld frae north to south,
And blew into the floor ;
Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife,
Get up and bar the door.
My hand is in my h use wife-cap,
Gudeman as ye may see ;
If its no barr'd this hunder year,
It's no be barr'd by me.
They made a paction 'tween them twa,
A paction firm and sure,
Whoever spoke the foremost word,
Should rise and bar the door.
Twa travellers had tint their gate,
As o'er the hills they foor,
�And airted by the line o' light,
Made straight to Johnnie's door.
Now whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a poor '?
But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speaks
For the barring of the door.
And first they ate the; white pudding's,
And syne they ate the black:
0 muekle thought our gudewife to hdrsel*
But ne'er a word she spake,
The young ane to the ankl ahe said,
Here, man; take ye my knife,
And gang and shave the gudemans beard,
While I kiss the gudewife.
But there's nae water in the house,
And what shall I do than ?—
What ails ye at the pudding broo,
That's simmering in the pan?
O, up then started our gudeman,
An angry man was h e Will ye kiss my wife afore my face,
And scaud me wi' pudding bree,
An' up an* started our gudewife,
Gae three skips o'er the floor,
Gudeman, yeWe spoke the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.
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But since I've earned many & crown,
B y the shop here in sweet Common garden.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
Now the end of my song's drawing near,
111 tell ye, but that's nothing new ;
Now all my ambition's to try,
And do what I can to draw you ;
In which, if I do but succeed,
And my efforts beguile you of pain ;
X entreat you'll not Wait to be asked,
To come often and see me again.
When Paddy found out asmall error on board,
The whisky, alas! was gunpowder.
With sudden explosion he flew 0 e r t h e ocean,
And high in air sported a leg ;
Y e t instinct prevails, when philosophy fails,
So he kept a tight hold of the keg.
But Dermont bawled out with a terrible shout,
I'm not to be choused, Mr Wiseman ;
If you do not come down, I'll run into the town,,
And by St Patrick I'll tell the Exciseman,
T H E K I N G OF T H E
THE IRISH
SMUGGLER,
From Brighton two Paddies walked under the cliif,
For pebbles and shells to explore,
When too a small barrel was dropt from a ski If,
Which floated at length to the shore ;
Says Dermont to Pat, we the owner will bilk,
To-night we'll be merry and frisky,
I know it as well as my own mother's milk,
Dear joy, 'tis a barrel of whisky.
Says Pat, I'll soon broach it, a fortunate lot,
Now Pat, you must know was no joker ;
111 go to Tom Murphy, who lives in the cot,
And borrow his kitchen hot poker.
'Twas said and 'twas done, the barrel was bor'd,
No bachanals ever felt prouder,
FAIRIES.
A wee, wee man came to our toun en,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' he sang sae sweet, that the hale 0' our men
Lap off their looms the carle to see.
His cap was red, an' his breeks were green,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his jacket the shortest that ever was seen.
An' the queerest colour you ever did see.
His nose was as flat as the back 0' my han',
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his feet wad hae covered an acre o' Ian',
Yet his Boots cam' up o'er the lid o' his knee.
His e'en were grey without ony white,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his teeth were as black as the middle 0' night,
When the moon has forsaken this countrie.
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His legs were as bow'd as the half of a heap,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
An' his arms were sae lang, he ne'er needit to stoop,
For he picked up preens without bending his knee.
He laughed, and the hale o' the men o' our tonn,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
Lap out o' their wits and fell down in a swoon,
The fient o* them had the power to flee.
He sangj and they sprang to their feet in a crack,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
Now what I relate is a notable fact,
For I was sleeping when I did it see.
He play'd them a jig, and the dancing began,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee,%fee, fee ;
And he led them to where a big water down ran,
Where he douked them till they were like to die.
This queer wee man lap up on a hill,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee;
An' he open'd his mouth like the door o' a mill,
I hope sic a mouth I will ne'er again see.
But thunder ne'er gied sic a terrible roar,
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee, fee, fee ;
As when he announced that the dancing was o'er,
An' bade them fareweel,. an' awa' did flee.
Weary and wet our men cam' hame>
Fiddledum, faddledum, fee* fee, fee ;
An' swore the wee man was surely to blame,
For using sic freedoms in ony countrie.
SI pUB{ 0q^
C'l '¥ i
3
All this I've been told by my mammy,
And surely she'll not tell a wrong ;
But I don't remember nought of it,
Gaze it happen'd when I were quite young.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
On the very same day the next year,
For so ran the story of mother,
The same accident happened again,
But not to me, then, that were brother.
So 'twas Settled by old Father Luke,
Who dissolved all our family sins,
As we both were born on the same day,
That we sartainly must have been twins.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
'Twas agreed I should not go to school,
As learning I never should want;
Nor would they e'en teach me to read,
For my genius, they said, it would cramp.
Now this genius of mine where it lay,
Do but listen a while and you'll hear
'Twas in drawing—not landscapes and pictured.
N o ! mine were for drawing of beer.
Sing, fal de ral, &c.
Some with only one genius are blest,
But I it appears had got two ;
For when I had drawn off some beer,
I'd a genius for drinking it too.
At last I was drawn up to town,
Without in my pocket a farden ;
�
Document
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Four Excellent Songs. The Yorkshire Irishman. The Irish Smuggler. The King of the Fairies. Get up and Bar the Door.
Identifier
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s0564b74
Alternative Title
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The Yorkshire Irishman.
The Irish Smuggler.
The King of the Fairies.
Get up and Bar the Door.
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
Extent
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8 pages
Description
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Woodcut image of a bird seller on the title-page.
71 is printed at the bottom of the title-page.
Subject
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Ballads and songs
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Is Referenced By
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<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Is Part Of
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part of unbound collection (s0564b74)
Coverage
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Ireland
Language
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English
Format
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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.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
# of Woodcuts: 1