52 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5191868118a204d494a9c043827614bb.jpg 562985b96db73b2437a2684ab2df9d9e Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3780 Width 2127 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/49d7d7831fceca9bc88cf1ffb7f2d245.pdf 10aa6f91d85305a8b073d5572dddf418 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Chronicle of Charles, The Young man. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9936632793505154">s0604b34</a> Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1745 per ESTC Extent The size or duration of the resource. 11 pages 19 cm Subject The topic of the resource Jacobites War Charles Edward, Prince, grandson of James II, King of England, 1720-1788 Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. ESTC#:&nbsp;<span>T55713</span> ESTC#: T116754 <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> 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 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 [Edinburgh?: s.n.] Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource biography Abstract A summary of the resource. A Jacobite tract in support of Prince Charles Edward after the battle of Prestonpans. # of Woodcuts: 0 Chapbook Date: 1741-1750 Chapbook Genre: biography Chapbook Publisher: [Edinburgh: s.n.] https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0e631436f8c2499d055596996cb9e753.jpg 20e46804c68574c5ab22a1a91e074fa8 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3116 Width 1766 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c551a8ced8bffe64cf917803870c4764.pdf b6b6328237eba1390a628ba9d0ca7c7c PDF Text Text N E W AND IMPKOYED SEBXES. I IRISH STORIES A COLLECTION OP THE MOST INTERESTING TALES AND LEGENDS OF IRELAND COMPILED FROM THE BEST AUTHORS. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 1850. �CONTENTS. PASS The Hermit turned Pilgrim, 3 The Farmer and his Servant, 5 The Three Advices, 7 The Spaeman, 9 The Priest and the Robber, 11 Mac Turkhill, ™ Anne Boney, the Pemale Pirate,.. — James Butler........... Jack Withers, 16 ... 18 The Generous Irishman, 20 Paddy and the Priest, 24 Ready Wit,..,. 24 �POPULAR IRISH STORIES, THE HERMIT TURNED PILGRIM. In a solitary cave near the banks of Killarney, there lived an ancient hermit; far retired from the bustle and pleasures of the city, he spent his days in the praise of his divine Creator. But here we may observe the power of sin in man. A suggestion arose in his heart, that vice should triumph over virtue. Pondering on the various accounts he received, he began to doubt the power of Divine Providence; he therefore resolved to travel as a pilgrim, and setting out one morning, travelled the pathless grass until mid-day alone; he at length fell in with a young man who saluted him, and though far different in years, they were delighted with each other's company. The sun had sunk below the horizon when our travellers began to think of resting their weary limbs. They stopped at a large house, and were welcomed by the generous owner, who was ever happy in making his house the traveller's home, not from charity or any good, but from the love of praise. After partaking of an elegant repast, they were conducted to beds of down. In the morning, before they recommenced their journey, each drank a golden goblet full of wine. When a good distance from the house, the youth produced the golden cup which he had taken from the kind nobleman, and showed it to the hermit, which greatly surprised him, and he could not help thinking it hard that such generous actions should be so basely rewarded. While thus they journeyed, on a sudden the skies were covered with heavy black clouds, which presaged an approaching storm. Our travellers sought repose in a large well-built house. The owner was a great miser, whose door was ever shut against those in distress:—Long did they knock in a piteous condition, battered with the wind and rain: at length the old miser opens the door, and by a half welcome, admits the shivering pair; he brought them a morsel of bread of the coarsest sort, with a glass of wine, which he �4 had ill will to grant, and as soon as he saw the tempest cease, lie warned them to depart. The hermit wondered greatly that one so rich should live so miserably, denying himself even the necessaries of life. But his surprise was greater when his young companion took the cup he stole from his generous landlord, and gave it to this miserable wretch. The sun's bright rays once more invite the pair to their journey. He could not understand his companion's conduct, a vice in the one place, and madness in the other. Night coming on, they were again in want of lodging. They again applied at a house convenient, which the kind master readily granted, saying, to him that gives us all, we should yield a part. In the morning the pilgrims arose; but as they were ready to depart, the youth stole up to a cradle wherein slept a child, the landlord's only pride, and taking hold of it by the neck, choked it dead. But Oh! horror of horrors! how looked our pilgrim when he saw what was done. On leaving the house, a servant followed to show the way, and as they reached the river, the youth, as if watching a time to sin, approached him, and threw him in, where he was instantly drowned. Wild rage inflamed the old hermit's eyes. At last he burst the bands of fear, and was beginning to thunder out invective speech and imprecations on the detested wretch, when lo! this strange partner appeared no longer man, but was changed into all the grandeur and majesty of an angel, and addressing himself to the hermit, told him that his praise and prayer was heard at the throne of justice; and being so acceptable, said he, I, an angel, was sent down to calm thy mind, and let you know the truth of divine government, that you might have no scruples in your mind for the future, Those events which appeared so surprising to you on your journey, I will unriddle to you, that you may confess the Almighty just in all his ways. The great vain man who, for the love of praise, forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, has, by losing the cup, lost a great part of his vanity, and will for the future give nothing away but where he sees there is need. The miser who never gave any thing to the poor, with him I left the cup ; he will for the future become a new man, and never refuse relieving those whom he sees in distress. The pious man who ended the day in prayer, was beginning to lose his piety and virtue; that child whom ye saw me kill was weaning his heart from God; to save him God took the child; and already the aged parent owns his blind fondness deserved no less punishment. The servant whom I threw into the river was this night to kill and rob that good and charitable man. Now I have shown you the nature and cause �of the wonderful rule of Providence: depart in peace, resign yourself to the will of your Creator, and sin no more. With that the angel disappeared, and the hermit sought his ancient place, where he spent the remainder of his life in piety and contentment. THE F A R M E R A N D HIS SERVANT. A POOR man had three sons who was under the necessity of sending the eldest from home, to provide for himself in the best manner he could. He left his father's house early one morning, and after travelling all day, he came to a rich farmer's house, where he inquired if he could employ him. What can you do, said he ? Sir, said the boy, I can do any thing I am put to, but I will not engage myself longer than to the cuckoo sings. I will, said the farmer, give you ten guineas a year, if you do every thing faithfully, and refuse nothing you are commanded to do, but remember, the first that is angry, either you or me, is to be flogged on the bare back as long as the other pleases, and then the bargain is at an end; so if you think proper, you are welcome to stay. I hope, Sir, said the boy, there will be no occasion for either of us to be angry during my time here, so I believe on these terms I will stay. In the morning the boy was sent out to the field, and his master told him he must plough all the land his dog would run over before eating or drinking. The dog being taught for the purpose, ran over the whole field before he stopped, which would be a good day's work. Before he had finished his task, it was near sunset, and the poor fellow had not tasted any thing the whole day, but instead of getting his dinner as he expected, he was compelled by his master to begin work again in the barn. He complained of this treatment, and said no one would submit to such usage. Are you angry, said the farmer: I cannot help being angry, said the boy. Well, your time is expired, said he, and getting two or three persons to hold him, he most unmercifully flogged him. The next morning he got up and went home, and sorely grieved that he had had the bad luck to fall in with such a rogue: he told his brother all that happened him, and showing him his wounds, said, all he wanted was revenge. Well, said his brother, I will go in the morning and see what I can make of him. Accordingly he set off pretty early, came to the same farmer's house before sunset, and inquired if he knew any one wanting a boy in the neighbourhood. What is your name, said he? John, Sir ; I would �6 serve any person faithfully that will hire me till the cuckoo sings, for I intend after that to go to England. The farmer said he would engage him, at the same time telling him his terms, adding, I will give you a couple of shirts and a pair of shoes, because you are a good looking fellow, and I have a liking for you. John having agreed to the bargain, was desired to rise early. Accordingly in the morning he was first up, and got a stout stick for a paddle to the plough -. having proceeded to the field, his master told him he must plough whatever his dog would go over. The dog was at this time two or three rigs beyond him, and taking the paddle in his hand, he struck him on the head and killed him. What made you kill my dog ? I am only to plough what he has gone over, and that is not much. I hope you are not angry with me. O no, said he, I am not ; so John began to his work, and in a short time he had ploughed all the dog ran over, and then came home. Well John, said the farmer, you haye soon done your work this day, go and take your dinner, I have nothing more for you to do, you may play yourself to bedtime. All that night the farmer and his wife were plotting how to be revenged of John, for they saw it would not be easy to make him say he was angry, and they would willingly part with him if the bargain could be broke. The next morning when the farmer called John to him, and told him he had six cows beyond the river; there is a good ford, said he, but you must bring them over without wetting their feet. That is a hard task, master, but I will do what I can: so he went to the next house, and borrowing a hatchet, crossed the river and cut the feet off the cows, putting them into a sack which he carried home to his master. What is this you have got in the sack, said he ? Faith, said John, I was plotting all morning how to get the cows over the river dry shod, and I could not think of a better way than cutting the feet off them. You scoundrel, said the farmer, is that the way you have used my cattle? Indeed, said John, you may blame yourself, for how was it possible I could get them over a large river without wetting their feet, but by the method I have taken, and I hope you are not angry. No, I am not, said he, but you must look to yourself better than you are doing, or you will ruin me. The farmer and his wife were more spited than ever. I do not know what will be done with this fellow, if we do not find some way to break the bargain, he will ruin us. I will tell you what we will do, said she,—I see we must try some plan to get him away. You must put him on the house to-morrow to fasten the slates, and I will go up into the ivy bush and cry cuckoo three times, and then his time will be expired. I �believe, said he, it will be the best way, and accordingly he put him on the house the next morning, and his wife went into the bush. As John was busy working, his mistress called cuckoo three times; and he, having a good guess what it was, ran down with his arms full of slates, and throwing them into the bush almost killed her before the farmer knew any thing about it. At length hearing what was going on, he ran to the bush, where he found his wife much hurt. After administering some wine and other cordials to her, she recovered, and John coming in his master flew at him in a great rage: you rogue, said he, what is this you have done ? Why, are you angry, master, said John ? To be sure I am angry, I will not suffer you about my house any longer. Well, said John to some of the neighbours, you must hold my master until I flog him, for that is our bargain. Do not, said the mistress, and I will fill your hat with crown pieces. Well, says John, on that condition I will spare him. John then bade farwell, and went home with his hat full of crown pieces, and told his brother all that had happened, at the same time showing him what money he took off them. T H E THREE ADVICES. THERE, was a time when a great many people had to leave Ireland for want of employment, and the high price of provisions. John Carson, the subject of the following story, was under the necessity of going to England, and leaving his family behind him; he was engaged by a gentleman at twelve guineas a year, and was greatly esteemed by his master. The term of his engagement being expired, he determined to return home. The gentleman pressed him to remain, but John was eager to visit his wife and children. In place of giving him his wages, the gentleman insisted on him taking the following advice:—Never take a bye-road, when you have a high way;—never lodge in the house where an old man is married to a young woman;—never take what belongs to another. It was with reluctance that John was persuaded to accept of the advices instead of his wages, but the gentleman told him they might be the means of saving his life. Before setting out on his journey, his master presented him with three loaves of bread, one for his wife, and one for each of his children, enjoined him not to break them until he got home, at the same time giving him a guinea to defray his expenses. He had not proceeded far, until he met with two pedlars who were travelling the same way. He kept company with them until they �came to a wood, through which there was a road two miles nearer the town they were going to. The pedlars advised John to accompany them that way, but he refused to go off the high way, telling them, however, he would meet them at a certain house in town. John arrived in safety, and took up his lodging at the appointed place. While he was taking his supper, an old man came hobbling into the kitchen; and on asking the servant who it was, she told him it was the landlord. John thought on his master's advice, and was coming out, when he met the pedlars, all cut and bleeding, having been robbed and almost murdered in the wood; he advised them not to lodge in that house, for that all was not well, but they disregarded his advice. John, rather than remain in the house, retired to the stable and laid himself down upon some straw, where he slept soundly for some time. About the middle of the night, he heard two persons coming into the stable, and on listening to their conversation, he discovered that it was the landlady and a man laying a plan to murder the husband. In the morning, John renewed his journey, but he had not proceeded far when he was informed that his former landlord had been murdered, and the two pedlars had been taken up for the crime. John did not mention what -he heard to any person, but determined to save the poor men if it was in his°power. On arriving at home he found his wife and family in good health, and anxiously expecting his arrival. Having related all his adventures from the time of his departure, together with his master's advices, he produced the loaves of bread; but what was their astonishment when they found the whole wages enclosed in one of the loaves, which his generous master had put there unknown to him. After remaining at home some time, he determined to return to England, in order to attend the trial of the pedlars. On going into the court, he saw the two men at the bar, and the woman, and the man he had heard in the stable, as prosecutors. Having been permitted to give his evidence, he told the affair so correctly that the man and the woman confessed their guilt, and the poor pedlars were instantly acquitted; they offered to give him any thing he pleased, but John kindly refused accepting any recompense but a few shillings to defray his expenses, alleging at the same time, that he considered it nothing more than his duty. John, before leaving England, resolved to visit his kind old master, and return him thanks for his generosity. As soon as the gentleman heard the object of his journey, he was so highly pleased at so praiseworthy an action, that he offered him a small farm of land, and promised �9 him every encouragement if he would remain; John gladly embraced the offer, and having sent for his family, took possession of his new property, and lived respectably all his days. THE SPAEMAN. A POOR man in the north of Ireland was under the necessity of selling his cow, to help to support his family. Having sold the cow, he went into an inn, and called for some liquor. Having drank pretty heartily, lie fell asleep, and when he awoke, he found he had been robbed of his money. Poor Roger was at a loss to know how to act; and, as is often the case, when the landlord found that his money was gone, he turned him out of doors. The night was extremely dark, and the poor man was compelled to take up his lodgings in an old uninhabited house at the end of the town. Roger had not remained long here until he was surprised by the noise of three men, whom he observed making a hole, and depositing something therein, closed it carefully up again and then went away. The next morning, as Roger was walking towards the town, he heard that a cloth shop had been robbed to a great amount, and that a reward of thirty pounds was offered to any person who could discover the thieves. This was joyful news to Roger, who recollected what he had been witness to the night before; he accordingly went to the shop, and told the gentleman that for the reward, he would recover the goods, and secure the robbers, provided he got six stout men to attend him, all which was thankfully granted him. At night Roger and his men concealed themselves in the old house, and in a short time after the robbers came to the spot, for the purpose of removing their booty, but they were instantly seized and carried into the town, prisoners, with the goods. Roger received the reward and returned home, well satisfied with his good luck. Not many days after, it was noised over the country that this robbery was discovered by the help of one of the best spaemen to be found, insomuch that it reached the ears of a worthy gentleman of the county of Derry, who made strict inquiry to find him out. Having at length discovered his abode, he sent for Roger, and told him he was every day losing some valuable article, and as he was famed for discovering lost things, if he could find out the same, he should be handsomely rewarded. Poor Roger was put to a stand, not knowing what answer to make, as he had not the smallest knowledge of the like. But recovering him- �self a little, he resolved to humour the joke, and thinking he would make a good dinner and some drink of it, told the gentleman he would try what he could do, but that he must have the room to himself for three hours, during which time he must have three bottles of strong ale and his dinner, all which the gentleman told him he should have. No sooner was it made known that the Spseman was in the house, than the servants were all in confusion, wishing to know what would be said. As soon as Roger had taken his dinner, he was shown into an elegant room, where the gentleman sent him a quart of ale by the butler. No sooner had he set down the ale, than Roger said, there comes one of them, intimating thQ bargain he had made with the gentleman for the three quarts, which the butler took in a wrong light, and imagined it was himself. He went away in great confusion, and told his wife. u Poor fool," said she, " the fear makes you think it is you he means, but I will attend in your place, and hear what he will say to me." Accordingly, she carried the second quart, but no sooner had she opened the door than Roger cried, there comes two of them. The woman, no less surprised than her husband, told him the Spasman knew her too. " A n d what will we do,'' said she, " we will be hanged.' * " I will tell you what we must do," said she, " we must send the groom the next time, and if he is known, we must offer him a good sum not to discover on us." The butler went to William, and told him the whole story, and that he must go next to see what he would say to him, telling him, at the same time, what to do, in case he was known also. When the hour was expired, William was sent with the third quart of ale, which, when Roger observed, he cried out, there is the third and last of them, at which William changed colour, and told him if he would not discover on them, they would show him where they were all concealed, and give him five pounds besides, Roger, not a little surprised at the discovery he had made, told him if he recovered the goods, he would follow them no further. By this time the gentleman called Roger to know how he had succeeded. He told him he could find the goods* but that the thief was gone. " I will be well satisfied," said he, "with the goods, for some of them are very valuable." Let the butler come along with me, and the whole shall be recovered. He accordingly conducted Roger to the back of the stable where the articles were concealed, such as silver cups, spoons, bowls, knives, forks, and a variety of other articles of great value. �11 When the supposed Spasman brought back the stolen goods, the gentleman was so highly pleased with Roger, that he insisted on his remaining with him always, as he supposed he would be perfectly safe as long as he was about his house. Roger gladly embraced the offer, and in a few days took possession of a piece of land, which the gentleman had given to him in consideration of his great abilities. Some time after this, the gentleman was relating to a large company the discovery Roger had made, and that he could tell any thing; one of the gentlemen said he would dress a dish of meat, and bet for fifty pounds, that he could not tell what was in it, and he would allow him to taste it. The bet being taken, and the dish dressed, the gentleman sent for Roger, and told the bet was depending on him. Poor Roger did not know What to do; at last he consented to the trial. The dish being produced, he tasted it, but could not tell what it was; at last, seeing lie was fairly beat, he said, gentlemen, it is a folly to talk, the fox may run a while, but he is caught at last, allowing within himself that he was found out. The gentleman that had made the bet, then confessed that it was a fox that he had dressed in the dish, at which they all shouted out in favour of the Spaeman, particularly his master, who was more confident in hi#m than ever. Roger then went home, and so famous did he become, thatno one dared take any thing but what belonged to them, fearing that the Sp&man would discover on them. THE PRIEST A N D THE ROBBER. IN the province of Ulster, about fifty years ago, there lived a priest whose life was spent in administering relief to those in distress; so that by the amiableness of his character, he had gained the respect and esteem of all the country round. He was sent for to a robber to prepare him for death, and was, shut up in a small chapel along with him. While endeavouring by the most pious persuasions to excite him to repentance, he observed him apparently absorbed in thought, and paying no attention to his discourse. " A r e you aware," said the priest, " that you must soon appear before your great C r e a t o r ? " — " I know that," returned the robber; "but I also know that you can save my life."—"How can that b e ? " said the priest. " You have only," rejoined the poor wretch, " t o set your chair on the altar, and by your getting on it, I can reach the top by the help of your shoulders."—"And," said the priest, " do you think I shall be accessary to your �12 escape, which may be the means of your committing new crimes?"—"Indeed," said the robber, " y o u need not be afraid of that, I have seen the gibbet too near me to expose myself to such danger again." The priest, actuated by the impulse of a feeling heart, and strengthened by the earnest protestations of repentance in the unhappy criminal who was about to suffer, at length consented to favour his escape, and in a few minutes the robber was clear of the prison. Shortly after, the executioner came to warn the unfortunate man of his hour being come; but what was his surprise when he opened the door, and found the priest sitting alone in the chapel. He immediately alarmed the judges, and brought them to the spot. " W h a t is become of the prisoner," said they, "that was left with y o u ? " — " H e must be an angel," returned the priest coolly, " for, upon the faith of a christian, he flew out of the window," pointing to the window in the . roof of the chapel; " and I am going to recommend myself to his protection." The judges could not preserve their gravity at what they heard the good man relate, but wishing the supposed angel a pleasant journey, went away. Some years after this, as the priest was travelling in the county of Wicklow, he lost his way, just as the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. He was accosted by a sort of peasant, who, after examining him attentively, told him the road he was travelling was a very dangerous one, and as the night had set in, if he would accompany him, he would conduct him to a house convenient, where he might pass the night in safety. The priest was at a loss how to act; the curiosity visible in the peasant's conduct excited his suspicion, but considering if he had a bad design in view, that it was impossible for him to escape, he with a trembling heart followed. They had not walked far until they reached a farm-house, which the poor priest beheld with j o y ; but the suspicion which the peasant's curiosity had first raised in his breast, was entirely removed when he found he was the proprietor, and heard him tell his wife to kill a capon, with some of her chickens, and to welcome his guest with the best cheer. Whilst the good woman was preparing supper, the countryman came into the room followed by a group of beautiful children. " Pour forth your grateful thanks, my little children," said he, as the tear of gratitude started from his eye, " for to this worthy man your father owes his existence.'' The priest immediately recognized the features of the robber, whose escape he had favoured some years before; he inquired how he came to be so well provided for; on which he related to him as follows :— �13 " I told you if you assisted me in escaping I would lead a new life. I begged my way to this part of the country, which is my native place, and engaged in the service of the owner of this farm. By strict fidelity and attachment to the interest of my master, in a short time I gained his entire confidence and esteem, and such was his regard for me, that he gave me his only daughter in marriage. God has blessed my endeavours ever since, and I have amassed a little money, and I entreat you to accept of it. I shall now die content, since I have had it in my power, by this small tribute, to testify my gratitude towards the man who saved my life." " I am well repaid," replied the priest, " f o r the service I have rendered you, and prize your repentance more than all the riches you can bestow. Continue in your present upright course of life, and you will be rewarded hereafter." The peasant pressed him to accept of some recompense, but he would not; he consented, however, to remain a few days in the house, during all which time he entertained him with the greatest hospitality. The time of the priest's departure at last arrived. It was with the greatest reluctance that the countryman could persuade him to make use at least of one of his horses to finish his journey. The priest set out, and the peasant would not quit him until he had traversed the dangerous roads that abound in those parts. MAC TURKHILL. MAC TURKHILT,, who from his earliest days was initiated in all the vices of raparee, and the known violator of female chastity, met in his walks with Miss O'Melaghlin, whose father was the richest man in the country. Her charms immediately excited his desires ; being a man of some property himself, he had recourse to her father for the honour of receiving from him the hand of his fair daughter. The answer he received was, that the happiness of a female in a married state depended on the temper, the morals, or character of the husband—that till he was convinced that the suitor's conduct would bear such a scrutiny, he would withhold his consent—and therefore concluded that if his daughter's inclinations were not pre-engaged, and his character should appear amiable, he should be no hindrance to their mutual happiness. Mac Turkhill had no reason to thank O'Melaghlin for the prudence of his conduct—he knew that his reputation would not bear inquiry, but he determined to wait some days, in �14 the interval of which he made his arrangements for carrying Miss O'Melaghlin off by force. The banditti of white-boys, with whom he was in esteem, on account of the congeniality of his morals, promised to assist him, and to run all hazards in promoting his success. Now ripe for mischief, and provided with the means to ensure him the possession of Miss O'Melaghlin, he applies to her father for an answer. The reception he met with was such as he expected. O'Melaghlin told him that he could not sacrifice the happiof his daughter by consenting to an alliance which lie could not approve of, and which every tie of honour and honesty forced him to decline. Mac Turkhill heard him with a frown, and went off muttering revenge. The father being no stranger to the extravagance of the pretended suitor, had every thing to fear from him. He therefore determined to remove his daughter to a place of greater security, and placing her in his carriage, acquainted her with his motives, to which she gave a voluntary and eager consent. Mac Turkhill, who watched over his motions, overtook him near the Gautty Mountains, in the county of Tipperary. His faithful band shot the horses of the carriage, whilst Mac Turkhill pistoled O'Melaghlin, and seized on his daughter, whom he hurried to his horse, and mounted her upon it after a long struggle with her. Her cries, her shrieks, her swoons, had no effect upon the monster; but mounting, he rode off with her at full gallop. Providentially a corps of free volunteers met him in his flight, and melted with the shrieks of beauty in distress, determined on a rescue. Companions in guilt are seldom faithful to each other-—his own company fled and left him alone to engage with his enemies. Grown desperate with danger, he shot the first that approached him, but as he was drawing out the second pistol, he received a shot in his head, and dropped down dead from the saddle. Miss O'Melaghlin tumbled likewise on the ground in a swoon, but recovering, thanked her deliverers on her knees, and was escorted to her place of residence by the generous corps of free volunteers. ANNE BONEY, T H E F E M A L E PIRATE. THIS woman was a native of the city of Cork. Her father was an attorney, and by his activity in business rose to a considerable respectability in that place. Anne was the fruit of an unlawful connection with his own servant-maid, with �15 >vhom he afterwards eloped to America, leaving his wife in this country. He, settled in Carolina, and followed his own profession, but soon commenced merchant, and amassed a considerable property. There he lived with his servant in the character of a wife, but she dying, her daughter superintended the domestic affairs. N During her residence with her father, she was supposed to have a considerable fortune, and was accordingly addressed by young men of respectable situations in life. It happened, however, with her, as with many others of her sex, that her feelings and not interest determined her in the choice of a husband;—she married a young seaman without a single shilling. The avaricious father was so enraged, that, deaf to the feelings of a parent, he turned his own child out of his house. Upon this cruel usage of her father, and the disappointment of her fortune, Anne and her husband sailed for the Island of Providence, in hopes of gaining employment. She, however, acted a very different part from the character of a virtuous woman. She left her husband, and fixed her affections on Captain Rackham, with whom she eloped. She had disguised herself in man's clothes, to prevent discovery ; but proving with child, the captain put her on shore, and intrusted her to the care of some friends until she recovered, when she again accompanied him, disguised as formerly, in all his piratical expeditions. Upon the king's proclamation, offering a pardon to all pirates who would surrender themselves, he amongst others surrendered himself, and went into the privateering business. He soon, however, embraced an opportunity of returning to his favourite employment. In all his favourite exploits Anne accompanied him, and displayed the greatest courage and intrepidity.-' When their ship was taken, Anne, another woman, and a seaman, were the last three that remained on board, Captain Rackham having previously found means to escape on shore, but he was apprehended and sent to prison. Anne was known to many of the planters in the Island of Jamaica, to which place she was conveyed, who remembered to have seen her in her father's house, and they were disposed to intercede in her behalf. Her unprincipled conduct in leaving her own husband, and forming an illicit connection with Captain Rackham, tended to render them less active in her favour. By a special favour, Rackham was permitted to visit her �16 the day before he was executed, but Instead of condoling him on account of his hard fate, as might have been expected, she only observed that she was sorry to see him there, but if he had fought like a man, he need not have been hanged like a dog. Being with child, she remained in prison until her recovery, was reprieved, and set at liberty. She was by the interest ot some friends reconciled to her father, and lived a good life ever after. JAMES BUTLER. JAMES BUTLER was bred and born in Kilkenny, and in his pupilage was kept pretty much at school, but his learning did him little service, though he spoke Latin very fluently. When he arrived at man's estate, he enlisted himself a soldier in Lord Galway's regiment, and went with the army to Spain, where he had not been long before he departed to the Spaniards as his favourite party; but meeting with some usage among them he did not relish, he soon grew tired of a military life, and gave the Spaniards the go-by also. Thinking himself in danger in Spain, and not finding a convenient opportunity of returning home, his fancy led him to Andalusia, where he set up as a mountebank, and had wonderful success in raising his reputation and performing cures. At length he undertook the method of easing men of troublesome wives, who were taken to him by wholesale, and this brought more grist to his mill than any other part of his practice. So great was his fame at last, that he outvied the famous Dr. Thornhill, who offered to be his Merry-Andrew, upon condition that he would teach him his Irish assurance; but whether Thornhill did it to get rid of his competitor, or not, I can't tell, however it happened that he was discovered, and to prevent danger, made the best of his way to Venice, where he set up for conjuror, and not managing this business so well as the former, success failed him, and he joined with a company of banditti. While he was in this company, they had the good fortune to meet with a lusty fat mendicant friar, whom they robbed, taking from him the amount of £20,000, which he was going to carry to Modena, for the late widow of King James II. Queen Dowager of England. The captain of the gang divided the booty, ordering Butler but a very small part, not half his portion, which stomached him so much that he left them and went to Florence; and by this time he had learned to speak both Spanish and Italian. �17 While he was at Florence, his curiosity led him to go to see a man executed, where he singled out a young gentleman with whom he had some confabulation, and among the rest of his discourse, he said, " T h e man was a fool for suffering himself to be taken." At these words, the gentleman taking him for a man of resolution, took him to a tavern, and having sounded him pretty well, offered him five hundred pieces of gold to murder an uncle of his that he might enjoy his estate. Butler consented to the proposal, and went immediately to one of the banditti, with whom he agreed concerning the manner of the murder, and taking him along with him about eleven o'clock at night, to the old man's house, they made a quick dispatch of his life. This being done, and the reward paid them, as soon as Butler got a convenient opportunity he likewise put an end to the young man's life, to prevent him from discovering; and, for the same reason, in a little time afterwards he murdered his comrade. But, having thus committed three murders, the rumour whereof spread far and near, he grew a little afraid of his mother's calf's skin, and fled directly to Paris, where he soon found means to introduce himself into Cartouch's gang, with whom he often went in quest of prey; but not always distributing the booty equally, as he thought, he ventured to go out one fine morning alone, and taking notice of a young gentleman of Campaigne, who came to Paris on purpose to study, he met him and accosted him, pretending to be a scholar also, and then taking him to the college of Navarre, he led him through the walks, on pretence of entertaining him with new discourses, till they came to a remote corner, and then robbed him. But beginning to get too notorious in France, and not overwell liked by his comrades, he packed up his awls and went to Holland, and on his travels overtaking a genteel young woman, near Rotterdam, he began to make love, and grew very sweet upon her. She seemed coy at first, but after some discourse had passed, and upon further application, she agreed to pass for his wife. Not being able to reach the Hague, they stopped short at an inn on the road, and after supper they retired to rest. As soon as his supposed wife saw daylight, and perceiving how soundly he slept, she rose, and, calling for her husband's portmanteau, under pretence of getting out some linen, took out of it two hundred and ninety pieces of gold, and ordered the hostler to saddle her husband's horse for her to go and pay a friend a visit, but took care to ride off, and let none of them hear any more of her afterwards. �18 When Butler awoke he threw his arms about, expecting to grasp his dear*mistress, but finding himself disappointed, in order to make inquiry about her, and to know the time of the day, he called for his landlord, who told him his lady was a very early woman, having risen three or four hours before. Surprised at this news, he started up and ran to his portmanteau, which, when he searched, he immediately found how nicely he was tricked, yet he could not find in his heart to asperse her, or much to blame her for herself, because he lived by tricking. However, thus outwitted as he was, he sold his lady's horse, and having paid the reckoning with the remainder of the money, he made the best of his way to England, where dame fortune forsaking him, the lady poverty came to pay him a visit, and would not be persuaded to abandon him till she had brought him to a very low ebb. Being reduced to this condition, he happened one day to pick up a fresh acquaintance with Mrs. Impudence, who accompanied him and two others to King's Gate, in Grey's Inn Lane, where they attacked and stopped a coach, but finding a vigorous resistance, were obliged to return in a hurry, and ride off as fast as they could. However, Butler was pursued, taken, and committed to Newgate, but being only found guilty of an assault, he was fined £100 and confined twelve months. At length procuring his liberty, he fell to his old courses on the highway, in conjunction with one Nodes, an upholsterer's son, at Fleetditch, where they continued their depredations for a length of time, and amassed a great deal of money. Being warned in a dream, after a night of dreadful debauch and sensuality, of what his present wicked course would bring him. to, and happening to hear a most impressive sermon on the suffering of the damned in hell, he at length determined to quit his sinful courses of life. He therefore relinquished his iniquitous gain, dispensing it in charity, and returned to his friends in Ireland, where he passed the remainder of his life in penance and mortification. J A C K WITHERS. JACK'S father was a poor labourer in Athlone. Poverty and want of employment obliged his father to set off for Dublin, and Jack accompanied him. In that seminary of vice he became acquainted with some young pickpockets, and, imitating their conduct, he was detected and sent to Flanders as a soldier. �19 One day he went into the church at Ghent, during the time of high mass, and observing them casting money into a box that stood under the image of the Virgin Mary, he watched the favourable opportunity, picked the lock, filled his pockets with the money and got off unobserved. But, afraid to repeat his depredations in the same quarter, and unable to supply his extravagancies, he deserted his colours and returned to Ireland. Commencing robber on the highway, he encountered a neighbour of his father's whom he knew to be a great miser, and accosted him with, " Stand and deliver, or by the holy Saint Denis you are a dead man." The miser began to plead poverty, which was evident from his appearance and clothes, his breeches, in which he retained his money, being as large as the hooped petticoat of a full dressed lady. Jack, however, knew him well, and was not to be imposed upon with sham pretences. The old miser was then compounding, and offered one half to save the other. Jack enraged at this delay, threatened him with instant death; on which the miser pulled out his purse and spectacles, and putting them on, began to stare at Withers. " W h y , d n your eyes, you old fool," said Jack, " is your sight so bad that you cannot see to deliver your purse ?" " I may at least see to whom I give it." " A y e , aye, old boy; and when you look at me again, you must supply me with such another sum." Jack, and two of his companions, one morning returning from their depredations, espied a gentleman walking alone, and exhibiting all the gestures of passion, distraction, and fury; meanwhile casting his eyes towards heaven, stretching forth his arms and folding them again. They imagined he was about to plunge into the water from disappointed love or ruined fortune. Jack went up to him and said, "Pray, sir, consider what you are going to d o ! What a sad thing will it be for you to drown yourself here ? Be advised, and have better thoughts with you." " W h a t is all this for?" said the gentleman, " I have no intention of drowning myself. I am only a player getting my part." " If I had known that, you might have hanged or drowned yourself for me ; but to make amends for the trouble, you can do no less than give us your money." They robbed him of all he had. Some time after this, Jack and his companion, Patrick Murphy, attacked the postman carrying the south mail, whom they not only robbed, but, to prevent discovery, cut his throat, ripped him. up, filled his belly with stones, and threw him into a pond. The body, however, was found next day, in a shocking state. �I 20 Jack and his associates now once more returned to the city, but it may be well imagined that their guilty conscience would not let them rest. Having committed a robbery in the country, he and his companions were both apprehended, tried and condemned.* Jack was only twenty-four years of age when he suffered the punishment due to his crimes. He confessed the horrid murder he had committed some weeks before. THE GENEROUS IRISHMAN. LIEUTENANT FLEMING was the youngest son o f a respectable gentleman in the county of Louth, and was sent at an early age on board a British man-of-war in the situation of midshipman. He had a fine open manly countenance, an easy air, and a heart that diffused the irresistible charm of good humour over a tolerable set of features, setting at defiance both ill-temper and ill-breeding. After an absence of twelve years, spent with honour to himself and advantage to his country, having by his bravery and good conduct been promoted to the rank of lieutenant, he obtained permission to visit his native place. He had not been long seated on the top of the coach, before he perceived that his next neighbour was either very ill, or in great trouble, by several deep sighs which seemed reluctantly to force their way from an overcharged bosom. His heart beat responsive to the sound ; it was too dark to distinguish faces, nor did he recollect to have observed, on his getting up, whether it was a male or a female next to him, nor was that a consideration: he chewed his quid sometime in silence, till a sudden violent jolt of the coach drew forth a faint shriek from a female voice, and threw her in contact with the lieutenant's shoulder. "Avast," cried he, "take care how you steer, or we may all roll over, d'ye see; besides here seems to be one longside not able to stem the upsetting. Take courage, my good lass, lean against me and welcome; we shall soon come into some port." " You are very kind, good sir," answered a feeble voice; " I am, indeed but little able to bear the motion of the carriage, much less the sudden shakes, but I will be better by and by." " I hope so, I hope so," rejoined the lieutenat, " w e shall get into smooth water immediately, when we are off the stones." �21 No answer was returned, and a dead silence ensued until they came to the first stage of changing horses. Fleming, on the appearance of the light, turned to look at his neighbour, and beheld the pale skeleton of a young woman, who seemed fast sinking into the grave, and scarcely able to sit upright. " Odds, my life, poor soul," said he, " y o u seem to want ballast, it will never do to steer this course—why did you not steer into the cabin? " "Because, because," replied she tremulously, "it was not convenient — - I have more air here." " Yes, yes ; but a few such squalls as we had some time ago, may turn you overboard: you are not steady enough, my good lass, to keep your course here." He then called for some grog and biscuits, and jumped off to look in at the windows of the coach. " A y , ay, here's plenty of room; here, you steersman, open the coach door, and let us help that poor young woman into this berth." " W h y , I have no objection, master," answered the coachman, " but you know outside and inside passengers are different things—who's to pay the difference of the fare?" " Why, I will," cried Fleming. " No, no," exclaimed the invalid, " I entreat you, Sir, I am very well here: indeed I am—I will not get inside—pray leave me as I am." " Look ye, young woman," returned the lieutenant, " you are upon a slippery forecastle, you may be hove overship in the dark, and founder before help can come to ye. So no more words, my conscience wont let me see you in danger, for I shant sit easy with you at my stern; so do, my good soul, let me put you safe under hatches, out of the way of the squalls and foul weather." The poor young woman saw it was in vain to contend with her humane neighbour, and however repulsive to her own feelings to accept the obligation, she was as little calculated to support the fatigues of her situation as unable to pay the additional expense. She, therefore, with tears dropping on her cheeks, silently permitted herself to be placed in the coach, nor did she reject the biscuit, though she declined the grog. " Mayhap," said he, " a gill of warm wine will do you more good; and, without waiting a reply, he dashed off, and presently returned with it, entreating her to drink of it. Not to disappoint him, she sipped a small quantity, and pressing his hand said, " God bless you." The manner and the words shot through the heart of the poor lieutenant; but a summons from the coachman to resume �22 his place, cut short all further conversation, and he jumped up into his berth, after tossing off his glass of grog, which he found very necessary to recruit his spirits. When they stopped at the inn to dine, Fleming handed out his sick friend, with equal respect and tenderness; nor did he neglect offering his hand to three other females in the coach, one of which only accepted of it; the other two threw up their heads, and coldly declined his assistance,. Fleming was not a man of observation, he knew nothing of the world or the human heart; he had no idea that he could have given any offence by showing humanity to a fellow-creature, or Committed an unpardonable insult, by " stowing a sick outside passenger in the cabin." He gave his arm to the young woman, and conveyed her into a room, where she was scarcely seated, before, to his great dismay, she fainted, and he loudly vociferated for assistance. By the endeavours of the landlady, and the smelling-bottle of the lady who had deigned to accept Fleming's offered hand, the poor invalid soon recovered, and he left her to their care, whilst he " examined into the state of the locker." A fine piece of roast beef and a giblet pie were just going smoking hot to the table ; but though the scent was perfectly agreeable to him, he had consideration enough to think it might be too powerful for a sick stomach. He, therefore, asked if they had any new laid eggs, with a tart or two for the poor young woman in the other room, "Yes, sir," replied the landlady, " w e can give her a couple of eggs and a nice custard in a trice; but—a—as these eggs are not provided for the coach passengers, we shall expect them to be paid extra for.'' " V e r y well," returned he, "carry them in, and I will pay you for them." He went back and told the invalid she should have an egg brought to her, and as soon as he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of beef, he would come to her again. Tears were her only answer, and he darted away, followed by the lady. " I admire your humanity, sir," said she, " f o r I find you are, an. entire stranger to the young woman.'' " I don't know what she may be," answered he, stopping and bowing to the speaker, "but what of that? you see she is very sick, poor soul, and it is our duty to help forward a fellow-creature. She is bad enough, and I fear will soon be in that port, from whence there is no return." "I,fear so, too," rejoined the lady, "and it is from thence I feel so much to admire in your kindness. Young men in �23 this age rarely bestow favours on females without a view of self-gratification of some kind or other.'' Before he could reply, they were summoned to dinner. Fleming, much pleased with the lady's kindness to the sick giiij and attention to himself, was particularly assiduous for her accommodation, without intending any slight to the others, or observing their haughty or indignant looks. And here it is impossible to refrain from observing how much our own comforts in life depend upon our attention to those of others. The two ladies whose humanity was not proof against the affront of having an outside passenger, whose dress was as humble as her pretensions, obtruded on them so unceremoniously by a lieutenant, whose wrapping great coat demonstrated that he was no great things, and equally low bred and impertinent, had sat in disdainful silence till they arrived at the inn, when their anger burst forth into scornful observations, and a reprimand to the coachman for admitting such a low creature into their society, who had taken inside places. " A s to low or high," answered the man, " so they pay me the full fare, it is one and the same thing to me. Besides the poor young woman was mortal bad, and he was a goodhearted fejlow that offered to pay the fare, and all passengers are alike to me." " Then you ought never to have people of consequence in your coach, fellow, if you don't know how to behave yourself." " I know very well how to behave myself, I don't want to affront nobody," returned coachy, "the young woman was a clean decent body, and as good as others, for the matter of that, seeing her fare will be paid." "Don't be impertinent, fellow, it is plain you care not how you insult the ladies, so you can be paid. You would not have taken her into the coach without being sure of your -money, though you presume to force her upon us." " That's another sort of a thing. I pities the poor thing, :and would serve her with all my heart, but the coach is master's property, and musn't chouse him of his fare. But what signifies words about it, she is an inside passenger now, and by St. Patrick he's an honest lad that lent her a hand." The insulted ladies found it in vain to contend, they encouraged each other in the idea of affronted consequence, and displeased that their companion had followed the two low creatures, they determined to send her to Coventry, and preserve an indignant silence in the coach. �24 These wise resolutions accompanied them to the dinner table, when, to their great surprise, they beheld the lieutenant's uniform, and a figure, now disencumbered of an old wrapping coat, that he did not blush to exhibit in the most fashionable circles in the kingdom, though it wanted the polish of high life. P A D D Y A N D THE PRIEST. A PRIEST in the neighbourhood of Cork, fancying that the "dues" at confession were insufficient remuneration for the pardons he granted, told his congregation that in future he would not hear confessions, unless the "compliment" was increased. This, of course, created a great sensation in his parish ; some murmured, a few remonstrated, and others absented themselves from the confessional altogether. Amongst the latter was Darby Donovan. " Hilloa, Darby," said the priest, one morning, spying Darby sneaking along the side of a ditch to avoid a meeting. "Hilloa, Darby! is that you." 1'Oh! thin, is it yer reverrence? I hope yer reverrence, and all belonging to yer reverrence is well. It's a good step to Blarney, and my sister's child's sick in it, so as its contrary to yer reverrence I'm going, I'll wish you a plasant day." "Stay, Darby," called the priest—"What's the reason you have not been to confession lately ? " " Plaze yer reverrence," said Darby, scratching his head, "I've never been able to affoord it since the grace of God viz." R E A D Y WIT. A TRAVELLER, fond of a joke—a corpulent, jolly-looking fellow—taking a walk in company with one of his customers, met a "rough, rude, x'eady-witted" Hibernian driving a small cart, drawn by a jackass, when the following dialogue ensued: — " W e l l , Pat, what kind of an animal is this you have got!" " Arrah, now, don't be after denying your friends when you meet with them. Sure you have not forgot your cousin, Mr. Jack Ass." " Oh ho ! so you deal among asses." "Well, in troth I do, Sir." " And what is the price of a good one.just now?" " I n troth, Sir, that greatly depends on their appearance; a little jacky like this un might be got for a pound; but, by japers, a big fat cuddy like yourself would cost thurty shillans!" � 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 Popular Irish Stories; A collection of the most interesting tales and legends of Ireland compiled from the best authors. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9936352143505154">s0604b35</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Hermit Turned Pilgrim The Farmer and His Servant The Three Advices The Spaeman The Priest and the Robber Mac Turkhill Anne Boney, The Female Pirate James Butler Jack Withers The Generous Irishman Paddy and the Priest Ready Wit Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource New and Improved Series. No. 23. Price One Penny. 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&nbsp;</a> 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 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 Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource fiction Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Religion and Morals Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Architecture: fence Architecture: house Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1821-1830 Chapbook Genre: fiction Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Nature: hill(s) Nature: sun Nature: tree(s) Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f14dbee7e0dd574739bfa175564349b6.jpg 86dcc833513660c3c58e15ee6a750f7f Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 2776 Width 1773 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration in double ruled rectangular border on title-page of a hen with baby chicks around her. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1e28f1efe3c55ac8dcb5299da1829c76.pdf b62064da4b8e0895fcf0e7ef2c84e1ad PDF Text Text Lilies of the Valley. T o wh'ch are added, Hills of Gallowa. The Birks o' Aberfeldy. The Banks o Clyde. How sweet the rose blaws. STIRLING; Printed by W. Macule. �L I L I E S OF T H E V A L L E Y . O'er barren hills and flowery dak s, 0*er teas and distant shores, With merry songs and jocund tales* I've passed somo pleasant hours, Tfeo* wandering thus, I jae'er could fioi A gki like blithesome Sally ; W h o picks and culls and cries aloud, " Sweet lilies of the valley." From whistling o'er the harrowed turf, From nestling; of each trea. I chose a soldier's life to wed, So social gay and free. Yet tho* the las es love me well, And often try to rally, None pleases me like her who cries, " Sweet lilies o f the valley.** I'm now return'd, of late discharged, T o see my native soil; From fightirg in my country's cause. T o plough my country^ « e i l ; �3 I care aot which with either pleased* So I posses* my Sally, That little merry nymph, who cries, " Sweet lilies o f the valley ,yf H I L L S OE 6 A L L O W - A . Arnaag the birks sae blytha and gay, I met my Julia hameward gaua ; The linties chantit on the spray, The lammies lowpit on the lawn; 0 a ilka swaird the hay was nuwn, The braei wi' gowaas buskit braw ; And gloaming plaid os grey w^s thrawa Cut o'er the hills of Galiowa. Wi* music wild the woodlands rangi And fragrance winged aiaag the lee* When down we sat, the fbwers amang, Upon the banks of stately Dee. M y Julia's arms e circled me ; Then sweetly sla ie ifne hours awa, Till dawnm* coost a glimmerm* ee, Upon the hiils o9 Galiowa. It is aae owsen, sheep and kye, It if nae gowd, it is nae gear, �4 Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, Supremely'ble*t wi love asd thee la ike birks of Aberftldy. T H E B A N K S O' C'^YDE. Aira awa my Jamie'i ga^e, Out owre th& se*s» far far fr«e hame Hevs gane,.ar>d cro^sM the ocean wide, And left the bon y banks o' Clyde* i w a he's gnne to fight his foe, And left me hare in grief and woe ; M y love who led me by his side, Alasg the bonny banks o' Clyde. On Govan banks, whar ClyJe doth flo^. There ilka laddie arms his joe ; While landiy I maun mourn a*d chide, Upon the bonny banks ©' Ciyie. 0 , in the rosy month o* May, The lav'rock rais d its cheerfu' lay, The mavis sang, the blackbird vied, Around the bonny banks o Ciyde. �5 The gowaas ipread ilk flower spring, M y love as sweet'* the day w w lang, M y heart he gain'd to be his bride* When walking on the banks o9 Clyde. © woe be to th^se wars in Spain, They've t^en f a e me my darling gwaia, And crossed him owre the c cean wide, Far frae the bonny banks o Clyde. © ! if the high and heavnly Pow'r Would shield my live in danger's hoyr, Aad owre the seas r im safely guide, Back to t&e bonny banks ox Clyde; Our parting day would ne'er be seen* Until that death struck in between, Then ax our joya we'd lay aside, &nd leave the bonny banks o* Clyde. H O W SWEET THE ROSE BLAWS, How sweet the rose blaws, it fades and it fa Red is the rose and bonnie O: It brings to my mind what my dear laddie was £e blecm'd, so cut off? was my Johnnie, O. �6 Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, iupremely ble»l wi love a&d thee la the birks o f Aberftldy. T H E B A N K S O' C L Y D E . A \ra awa mv Jamie** g-ane," Out owre ihs se^sj far far fr*e hame Ht x s gane, ar>d crocsM the ocean wide, And left the bon y banks o' Clyde* Awa he's gine to fight his foe, And left me hare in grief and woe ; M y love who led me by his side, A h a g the bonny banks o* Clyde. On Govan banks, whar Clyde doth flov* There ilka laddie arms his joe ; While lansly J maun mourn and chide, Upon the bonny banks ©' Ciyie. O , in the rosy month oy May, The lav rock rais d its cheerfu' lay, The mavis sang, the blackbird vied, Arouad the bonny banks o Clyde. �7 The gowans ipread ilk flower sprang, M y love as sweet's the day wag lang, M y heart he gain'd to be his brtde$ When walking on the banks o^ Clyde. © woe be to ih^se wars in Spain, They've ft »e me my darling gw&ta. And crossed him owre the rcean wule, Far frae the bonny b*nks o ClyJe. © ! if the high and heavenly Pow f r Wofcld shield my lave in danger's hour, owre the seas r im safely iuide, Back to t&c bonny banks g* Clyde; Our parting day would ne'er be seen. Until fhtt de^tli struck in between, Then ax our joys we'd iay aside, &nd leave the bonsy banks o* Clyde. H O W SWEET THE ROSE BLAWS, How sweet the rose blaws, it fades and it fa r ; Red is the rose and bonnie O: It brings to my mind what my dear laddie was So blecm'd, so cut off? was my Johnnie, O. �3 N >w peace is returned, but nae joy briogi t# x e : Ked is the rose and boonie O : Far c&utld ii bis check, aud blameless his c'e A&l r>ae mair beats the heart o' » j Johaaie^ Q. A h ! why did he love me, and leave these sweetplains ; lied is the rose and bomiie, O : Where smiling contentment and peacs ever reigas, Bat they'll ne'er bloom again for my Johnnie, Q, Nor ta me will their beauties e'er pleasure impart, Eed is the rose and boa&ie, O ; For sunk if my spirits aid broken my heari, I'll meet ne'er to part frae my Johnnie, � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 100: Title-page illustration in double ruled rectangular border portraying a hen with baby chicks around her. 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 Lilies of the Valley. To which are added, Hills of Gallowa. The Birks o' Aberfeldy. The Banks o'Clyde. How sweet the rose blaws. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1825 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943905633505154">s0615b32</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Hills of Gallowa. The Birks o' Aberfeldy. The Banks o'Clyde. How sweet the rose blaws. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Stirling 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&nbsp;</a> <a title="National LIbrary of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> 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 Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. 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 Stirling: W. Macnie 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 # of Woodcuts: 1 Animal: chicken(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1821-1830 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Stirling: Printed by William Macnie https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/da4bb9a24e934b39d7a34cc2b03e6a50.jpg 735e53e80182dc223c01351e59e4c267 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3072 Width 1826 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a man wearing a hat, kilt, and plaid socks holding an upright rifle. To his left is a door marked with the letter V https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/96f91e7a65bfefe63f2e9c5b8c2e001f.pdf 83b9e29026991cb9aa5e0cab2bba1b83 PDF Text Text FOUR Excellent Songs JACK ROBINSON. T H E G I R L I L E F T B E H I N D ME. LORD LOVEL. T H E H A U G H S OF C R O M D A L K GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR TIIE 32. BOOKSELLERS. �BO R & S. JACK ROBINSON. THE perils and dangers of the voyage past, And the ship to Porti^outh aiYivfed at? last, The sails all furl'd and* the anchor cast; The happiest of the crew was Jack Robinson: For his Poll he had trinkets and gold* g&lofe; Besides prize-money quite a store, And along with the crew he went ashore, As cockswain to the boat, Jack Robinson. Tol de rol, &c. He met with a man, and said, I say, Mayhap you know one Polly Gray, She lives somewhere hereabout—the man said, nay, I do not, indeed, to Jack Robinson. Says Jack to him, I've left my ship, And all my messmates gave the slip, Mayhap you'll partake of a* good can of flip, For you're a civil fellow, says* Jack Robinson. In a public-house, tlien^ they both sat down, And talkVI of Admirals of high renown, And drank as much grog as came to half-a-crown, This here strange man and Jack Robinson. Then Jack call'd out the reck'ning to pay, The landlady came in, in line array, My eyes and limbs! why here's Polly Gray, Who'd thought of meetinghere, says Jack Robinson, �3 The landlady stagger'd against ithe wall, And said at first she didn't know him at all, Shiver me,,.«ays Jack, why here's a pretty squall, D—n me, don't you know me?—'I'm Jack Robinson Don't you know this handkerchief you gave to me, Twas three years ago, before I *werat *to sea, Every day I look'dat, and then I thought of thee, Upon my soul I have, says .Jack iRctbinson. Says the lady, says she, I've chang'd,my state, Why, you don't mean, says Jack, ..that you've got a mate You know you promis'd—-says she, 1 could not .wait, For 110 tidings could I gain of you, Jack Robinson ; And somebody, one day, came to me and said, That^omebody else had somewhere read, In some newspaper, as how you were dead— I've not been dead at all, says Jack Robinson. Then he turned his quid, and finish'd his glass, Hitch'd up his trowsers, alas! alas! That ever I should live to be made such an ass, To be biik'd by a woman, says Jack Robinson. But to fret and stew about it much is all in vain, I'll get a ship and go to Holland, France, and Spain. No matter where, to Portsmouth I'll never<come again, And he was olf before they could say Jack (Robinson. T H E G I R L I L E F T BE FUND ME. I'M lonesome since I cross'd the hills, And over the moors that Aire me, With heavy thoughts my heart doth fill. Since I parted from my Betty, �In search of some one fine and gay, But none could ever bind me, And I think of the hours I pass'd away With the girl I left behind me. The hours I do remember well, When recollections move me ; A pain within my breast I feel, Since first she own'd to love m e : But now I'm going to Brighton camp, I pray kind heav'n now guide me, And send me safely back again To the girl 1 left behind me. But when I'm standing on parade, Either asleep or waking, I long to see my love again, For her my heart is breaking ; When I think of the vows of love, The tears do fall and blind me, When I think upon the form and grace Of the girl I left behind me. The falling waters I do see, The dove become a ranger— Such heavy thoughts run in my mind, The hour 1 mesnt to change her; Ye powers above, protect I pray, The cautious fair that binds me, And send me safely home again To the girl 1 left behind me. �* T H E H A U G H S OF C R O M D A L E . As I came in by Auchindoun, A little wee bit frae the town, When to the Highlands I was boun\ To view the haughs of Cromdale. I met a man in tartan trews, I speir'd at him what was the news ; Quo' he, 44 The Highland army rues, That e'er we came to Cromdale, We were in bed, sir, every man, When the English host upon us came; A bloody battle then began, Upon the haughs of Cromdale. The English horse they were so rude, They bathed their hoofs in Highland blood, But, our brave clans, they boldly stood Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 44 But, alas! we could no longer stay, For o'er the hills we came away, And sore we do lament the day That e'er we came to Cromdale." 44 Thus the great Montrose did say, 44 Can you direct the nearest way, For I will o'er the hills this day, And view the haughs of Cromdale. * Alas, my lord, you're not so strong, You scarcely have two thousand men, There's twenty thousand on the plain, Stand rank and file on Cromdale. 44 �G Thus Jhe ..great Moutvose did .say, " I say, direct the nearest way, For I will o'er the hills -ebis day, And see the haughs of Oromdale." They were at dinner, every »mm, When great Montrose upon them c a m ; A second battle then began, Upon the haughs of Gromdale. The Grant, Mackenzie, and M'Kay, Soon as Montrose they did espy, 0 then, they fought most valiantly! Upon the haughs of Gromdale. The M'Donalds they returri'd again, The Camerons did their standard join, Mcintosh play'd a bloody game Upon the haughs of Gromdale. The M'Gregors fought like lions bold, M'Phersons, none could them controul, M'Lauchlans fought like loyal souls, Upon the haughs of Cromdale. M'Leans, M'Dougals, and M'Neils, So boldly as they took the field, And made their enemies to yield, Upon the haughs of Cromdale. The Gordons boldly did advance The Frasers fought with sword and lance, The Grahams'they made the heads to danoe, Upon the ha i hs of'Cromdak. �The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose, So boldly set upon their foes, And brought them down with Highland1 blows, Upon the haughs of Cromdale, Of twenty thousand, Cromwell's men, Five hundred fled to Aberdeen, The rest of them lie 011 the plaiii, Upon the haughs of Cromdale. LORD L O V E L . stands at his stable door, Mounted upon a grey steed ; And bye came Ladie Nanciebel, And wish'd Lord Lovel much speed. LORD LOVF.L " 0 wh'ar are you going, Lord LoVel, 9 My dearest tell to me V <{ O I am going a far journey, Some far countrie to see ; But I'll return in seven long years, Lady Nanciebel to see." " 0 ! seven, seven, seven long years, They are much too long for me," 44 He has gane a year away, A year but barely ane, When a strange fancy came into his head, That fair Nanciebel was gane. �8 It's then he rade, and better rade, Until he cam to the toun, And there he heard a dismal noise, For the church bells a* did soun' He asked what the bells rang for, T h e j said, " Its for Nanciebel: She died for a discourteous squire, And his name is Lord LoveL" The lid o' the coffin he opened up, The linens he faulded doun ; And aye he kiss'd her pale, pale lips, And the tears cam trickling doun. " Weel may I kiss those pale pale lips, For they will never kiss me ;— I'll mak a vow, and keep it true, That they'll ne'er kiss ane but thee." Lady Nancie died on Tuesday nicht, Lord Lovel upon the neist day ; Lady Nancie died for pure pure love, Lord Lovel, for deep sorray. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 026: Title-page illustration of a Highland soldier in a kilt and plaid socks holding an upright rifle in a outdoor scene. A door in background is imprinted with the letter "V". Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Four Excellent Songs. Jack Robinson. The girl I left behind me. Lord Lovel. The Haughs of Cromdale. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943830893505154">s0615b33</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Jack Robinson. The girl I left behind me. Lord Lovel. The Haughs of Cromdale. 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 The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 14 cm Description An account of the resource 32 printed at the bottom of the title-page. Subject The topic of the resource Ballads and songs Jacobites War Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage 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&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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 Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012. 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 Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire Fashion (Clothing): kilt Fashion (Clothing): military Fashion (Clothing): sporran Gender: man/men Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Weapons: gun(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/99417d3fb39b9e076a7d1bef7713f8da.jpg 1493b294d51281f5257e2ffea24a2acd Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1890 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a man wearing a hat, kilt, and plaid socks holding an upright rifle. To his left is a door marked with the letter V https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2d135d415d4ee14736badbfab42f7034.pdf dbe096b4429bd3b1427f595c3acdc397 PDF Text Text �r THE UlSI'QRIc i* 4 ,; WILL % , i % AN® .so v s J J E A N . j * • $ TO B T p a i a a . d A B &HT like Willie $ WHA wasinanceb o u r i n g tow^iGairlace, Wha la B eap t ^ s* plow n: \v afe in 1 i 3 fair "face, 1 C > % Deadly strength was in iiis arm. f | f * ^^ . Wlia wi* Will could riii or wrastle, Throw the sledge d#t!>ssf tgie bar, 4> C Hap what would* he stood a castle, Or for safety or for Wa?. # % % v^ll C W a r m his he ait/ and mild as tnarifu, ^ W i ' the hauld he bauld could be 5 \ But to friends wha had {ftfjjjjbhldfii} % f, Purse ^tid service aye-war free* W h a n he first saw JedhJfe Miller, W h a wi* leaftie could compare ? * Tliousands had.maiE braws and siller, B u t was ony half so Talr ? Kind and gentle wWiiQf naiitfe ; & A t jlk |}lace she kjre the bell, 1 Vi if Sic a bloom, and shape, and stature ! B u t her look nae tongue can tell J S F\ <|| 1 S •f 1 :m M M <$.; ^ i �Sic was Jean, { whan \\ r ill first Flawing Spied her 16ri a 'piillwartl Inwig^ Flew like fire, and, just when fa'irig. Kept her on his manly breast. Light he fe^Wpf,' ^ a l ^ a ^ a ^ ^ ^ i ^ Q Cross the meadow fragrant, green, t ; Placed her on the new mowai rashgs*Watching sad Her opening eert. ( ! Sic was Will, >vheit poor .Teanf |§}$iij»g* Drap into a lover's arms; ,, ' , . Wakened to his £aft lamenting, -f, > Sighed and Unshed a thousand charms. Soon they loo'd, and soon was hucldeA Nane took tirne to think and rue; Ytm^l and wqrth, and beaufcy> coupled, had titter l e s s \ o do. r r r„ hellevin) yeib nO. Thre^^Hcirt yfcahf flew by fu' cautf^ ; Jeaif* arid Will 'thought then! biit ane;; Hkh day brought joy and pleijLty, ,t , | Ilka year a daitity wean. Will wrought sair, but aye wi? pleasure ; Jean the hale day span and sang * ; Will atid weans her constant treasure, Blest wi' them, nae day seemed lang. • , .. , z'sJv/ # otwod B fll Trig her house, and 0I11 to busk. aye; Hk sweet bairri was A?fyerpride* ^ But at this time N E W S and W H l § K Y Sprang iiafc tip at ilk road side. �4 Luckless was the hour whan Willie. Hame returning frae the fair, O'ertook Tam, a neebour billie, Sax miles frae their hame and mair Simmer's heat had lost its fury; Calmly smiled the sober e'en, Lasses on the bleachfield hurry, Skelping barefit owre the green : Labour rang wi* laugh and clatter, Canty hairst was just begun, And on mountain, tree, and water, Gljnted saft the setting sun. 1 •&nru.i/•'• ' ' Will and Tam, wi' hearts a' louping, Mark't the hale, but could nae bide; F a r frae hame, nae time for sioppiiig,—Baith wished for their ain R e side, On they travelled, warm and drouthy, Cracking owre the npws in town ; The mair they crack't, the mair ilk youth aye Prayed for drink to >V£sJti. news do Wit. Fortune, wha but seldom listens , XtPftdcte M&x:ft?'s modest prayer^ And on foofe pofirs needless blessings, Hearkened to our drouthy pair. In a howm, wha's bonny burmg. | 10X[ <oWf Whimpering rQwed its crystal flood^f]] Near the road wliW travellers turn aye, Neat and biejd a cot-house stood j ^ v �5 White the wa's wi' roof new theekit, Window broads just painted red ; Lown 'mang trees and braes it reekit, Haflins seen and haflins hid. Down below a flowery meadow Joined the burnie's winding line Here it was that H O W E the widow That same day set up her sign.^ Brattling down the brae, and near its Bo t to in, Will first marvelling sees, " PORTER, A L E , & BRITISH S P I R I T S , " Painted bright between twa treesi Huzza, Taii}iI here's walth for drinking: W h a can this new comer be ? Hout, quo Tam, there's drouth in: thinking, Let's in, Will, and syne we'll see. Nae mair time they tool? to speak or Think of ought but reaming jugs, Till three times in humming liquor, Ilk lad deeply laid his lugs. Slockened now, refreshed and talking, In cam Meg (weel skilled to please), Sirs, ye're surely tired wi"' walking, Ye maun taste my bread and cheese. Thanks, quo Will, I canna tarry, Pick-mirk night is setting in ; Jean, p'uir thing's her lane and eery— I maun to the road and riu. �6 Haat, quo Tam, what's a* the huttfyK Hame's npw scarce a mile of gate— Come, sit down, Jean winna wearier Hout, I'm sura it's no sae late Will owrecjtfiafc wif Tairi's oration Baith fell ibo and ate their fill; Tam,vq.uO Will, in mere discreti^ii^ W e inan® Hae th&. widfew'g giBi ^ After ae gill cam aiiither— fil 1 ^ Meg sati cracking 'tween th^fl Cwa; Bang- cam; m Mat Smith arfd's Mihe^,^ Geqrdie Brawn and Sandib ^Sti&w. :N^ebt>urs whs ne'er thotighfrni&Im^hfere, Now skt dawn wi' ckuMe flee, Hfc gUL aye grehv • s week and sweeter, f 0 5 i Will gat hame 'tweeft W a tferee. Jean, piiir fhing/ Wd lang^ Been greeting; Will, niest morning blathed Tan* Lowes, 1 But ere langan owkly Meeting 0 W a s set ap at M%gle f 5SbWe^. Maist things hae a sma "beginning, B u t wfia kens how things ^ill end ? Owkly cliiJis are nae great sinning, a Giu folk' hae enough to spend. But nae man of sober thinking E'er will say that things' can thrive, If there's spent in owkly drinking W h a t keeps wife and weans alive. �Drir& maun, aye hae conversation, ' v ffia social r«»-:l allocs; V ' ., M t to this reforming nation" , 5 " ^ W f f i r a i P p a i r without; M W l f r s ? MaggV£ te^fe! bouji1 M iial i i p f Potind ere Jang the fault," and ae night .awe CMli l <f a n d g a t the W ^ M i M r 1 S # f t 1'iy N o u g h t s spring up like plants i r i ^ l i o u s e iLtety time tne news are read. Ilk a n ^ H f BVin "Jn.'! Things are no gaun riglit, quo Tain, > Let lis aitener meet thegither,. Twice % owk's iio worth ilie gauri ri . i •: .. sift raid wu3 t bee jthenVnow in grave convenfjvn,^ To make a'" things Square and t ven, Or r 4t least wi' firm intpntiqn V .ryf To drint sii1 nights out o' seven. " 'Mid this sitting up and dxinking. Gathering a' the news:that fell, ^Till, wlia ^Tasna yet 5 H a d some Battles w t hirn sel. y 4 Oti ae liandi Jnnk's: deadly poison". Bare ilk firm resolve awa ; j * j ~;., On the ither, Jean's condition ' Rave his very heart in twa. �8 W e e l he saw her smothered sorrow ; Weel he saw her bleaching cheek l Marked the smile he strave to borrow, W h a n , puir thing, she couldna speak. Jean, at first took little head o* Owkly clubs 'mang three or four, Thought, kind soul, that Will had need o* Heartsome hours when wark was owre. B u t whan now that nightly meetings* Sat and drank frae sax till twa, ; W h e n she found that hard earned gettings Now on drink war thrown awa; Saw her Will,'wha ance sae cheery Raise ilk morning wi' the lark, Now grown mauchless, dowf, and swear aye To look near his farm or wark; Saw him tyne his manly spirit, Healthy bloom and sprightly e'e ; And of love and hairie grown wearit, Nightly frap his family flee; W h a could blame her heart's complaining ; W h a condemn her sorrows meek, Or the tears that now ilk evening Bleached her lately, crimsoned cheek ? W i l l , wha lang had rued and swithered* ( A y e ashamed of past disgrace) ; Marked the roses as they withered Fast on J eanie's lovely face. �Marked, and felt wi1 inward racking A ' the wyte lay wi' himsel, Swore neist night he'd mak a breaking—• D—d the club and news to hell I But alas ! when habit's rooted Few hae pitli the root to p u ' ; Will's resolves were aye nonsuited,-— Promised aye—but aye gat f u \ Aye at first at the convening Moralized on what was right; Yet on clavers entertaining D m d and drank till broad day-light. • Things at length drew near an ending C*sh rins out—Jean quite unhappy, Sees that Will is now past mending Tynes a* heart, and taks a drappy. Jean, wha lately bare affliction W i ' sae meek and mild an air, Schooled by whisky, learns new tricks soon, Flytes, and storms, and rugs Will's hair, Jean, sae late the tenderest mither, Forid of ilk dear dauted wean ; Now heart-hardened athegither, Skelps them round frae morn till e'en. Jean, wha, vogie, locked to busk aye In her hame-spun, thrifty wark, Now sells a her braws for whisky, To her last gown, coat, and sark* �10 B a i t y Bam^j in mony a ditty* toudly sings in whisky's prain $ jSyeet his sang—the mair's die pity "©er on it he wared sic lays. Of a' the ills poor Caledonia Ever preed or e'er will taste, Brewed in hell's black Pan demon ia, Whisky's ill will skaith her maist. See them now ! how changed wi' drinMng A' their youthful beauty gane I Davered, doited, daized, and blinking, Worn to perfect skin and bane I In the cauld month of IvT«vember, " ( C i a ^ , ^ili cash, jind credit'put,) Cowering owre a dying ember, Wi* ilk face as white's a clouti ? I Bond, and bill, and debts a' stoppit, Ilka sheaf selt on the tent, (]^ttle, |ieds, and hlankits roupit Now, to pay the laird his rent. No anitlier night to lodge here, N o a friend their cause to plead J • l i e taen on to be a sodger, - ^ wo'M 0fis yn w a n s to beg h©r br*i& �Gil THE # £ I I O T OF THE • t Sandbar!- ? • •• ' •> • <• HISTORY . >YN; i OH ! t h a t folk wad weel consider W f i a t it is to tyne a riaine? W h a t - t h i s warrs^athegither, If bereft of honest fame! Poortith ne'er can bring dishonour . ^Hardships ne'er breed; sorrows sinart, ' I f bright conscience taks upon Jter T o shed sunshiny round the heart. B u t wi' a' that walth can borro w5 Guilty gliarae will look dpvyn ; W h a t maun then shame, want, ami sorrow Wandering sad frae town to town! Jeani^ Miller, ance sae cjieerie, i^nce sae happy, gnid, audjVir, Lpft by Will, neist morning djrourie T a k s the road of black despair; Cauld the blast, the day was sleeting, . Pouch and purse without a plaek, In ilk hand a bairnie greeting, And, the third tied on her back W a n hei;faq§i~ and lean apd haggard J Anpe §ae aonsiej ance gae ^weetl/ W h | t ix change !—unhpi^ed beggared ^ I r r y i n g ^ v i t l i q i i t : claise or �12 F a r frae ilk kent spot she wandered, Skulking llVe a guilty thief; Here and there uncertain daundered, Stupified wi' shame and grief. B u t soon shame for bygane errors, Fled owre fast for e'e to trace, "Whan grim death, wi' a his terrors, Cam owre ilk sweet bairnie's face. Spent wi' toil, and cauld, and hunger, Baith down drapt, and down Jean s a t ! Daized and doited now nae langer Thought and felt, hut bursting grafc. Gloaming fast wiVmirky shadow Crap owre distant hill and plain; Darkened wood, and glen, and meadow, Adding fearful thoughts to pain. Round and round, in wild distraction, Jeanie turned her tearful e'e Round and round for some protection ! Face nor house she couldna see. Dark and darker grew the night aye, Loud and sair the cauld winds thud $ Jean now spied a sma bit lightie Blinking through a distant wood. Up wi frantic haste she started, Cauld nor fear she felt nae mair $ Hope, for ae bright moment, darted Through the gloom of dark despair. �13 Fast owre fallowed lea she brattled,; Deep she wade through bog and burn, Sair wi' steep and craig she battled, Till she reached the hoped sojourn Proud 'mang scenes of Simple Nature, Stately, auld, a mansion stood On a bank, whase sylvan feature,''1 Smiled out ower the roaring flood. Simmer here, in varied beauty, Late her flowery man tie spread, W h a r auld chesnut, ake and yew tree Mingling, lent their friendly shade. Blasted now wi' W i n t e r s ravage, A' their gaudy livery cast, Wood and glen in' waitings'"savage. Sung and howled to ilka blast. Darkness stalked wi' fancy terror, Mountains moved and castle rocked, Jean, half dead wi' toil and horror/ Reached the door and loudly knocked W h a thus rudely waks the sleeping? Cried a voice wi' angry grane; Help I oh help ! quo Jeanie, weeping, Help my infants or they're garie. Nipt wi' cauld, wi' hunger fainting, Baith lay speechless on the lea ! Help ! quo Jeanie, loud lamenting, Help my lammies, or they'll die. �14 travels cauld and hungry, - W*' JOIMS faints sae late at jB'ew ? Beggars, cried the voice niair angry, l^eggeirs wi' their brats I ween. Beggars.np.w^.alasJ. wji^ lM^y-, ' Helpt the beggar and the poor; Fye, gu(Jem,an, cried ane discreetly, Tauiit, na poorti th at the door, Sic a night and tale thegither Plead for mair than anger's din; Rise Jock, cried the pitying mither, Rise and let the wretched in. Beggar now, alas ! wha lately Helpt the beggar and the poor i Enter, ^uo the yonth^discreetly, While up i flew the open dao£f Beggar, or what else, sad mourner. Enter without fear or dread ; Here, thank, God, there's aye a cornep r Tp defend the houseless head. For your bairnies cease repining ; v fX:\'/f I f fti life ye'11 see, them soon ; A ff he flew ; and brightly shin ing Through (fie da^k clouds, brak the moon. Here, for ae night's kind protection, t Leave Sye Jean and weans awhUe, Tracing Will iri| ilk direction, F a r fnie Britain's fostering isle.. , �Ip Far frae scenes of fastening,pleasure, LtiVe's delights and beauty's jcHarj^ p* Far frae^ friendship's social leisure, ^T^lunged in murdering W A l l ' s alarms. Is it nature, vice, or folly, Or ambition's feverish brain, That sae aft, wi' melancholy, Turns, sweet P E A C E ! thy joys tip fain. That wi! a' thy charms enticing rf • ^To the e'e and to the heart, (Ilk Endearing bliss despising), TMn^ts weak man frae .tMetopart.• flfiJi-J Or'! ti • -J no. Willie Gairlace, without siller, Credit, clase, or ought beside, ^eaves lift ance loved Jeanie "Millejr, [ bairns to warld wide.,' ; Leaves his native cozy dwelling, Sheltered haughs and birken braes, Grreeniwaird howes and dainty mailing Ance his prdflt/ pride, and praife§.: 4 Decked wi' ,scarlet, sword, and musket, D r u n ^ y ? dreams ft s fause its vkiii^"' Fleeclied "and flittered, roosed anfl biislnt, W\5W but T Will was \vondrous fain, JI T M'PPL V U ?•/ >!ooi ,00-/1 Rattling, roaring, swearing, drinking, How cotdd Thought her stMdn keep;** Drams and '^rufoiifihg' (fees to'thinkihjbr))rv Dnied Reflection fast asleep. �16 Bmt when shipt to toils and dangers, W i ' the cauld grund for his b e d Compassed round wi'faes and stranger% Soon Will's dreams of fancy fled. Led to battle's blood-dyed banners Waving to the widow's moan, W i l l saw Glory's boasted honours End in life's expiring groan. Round Valenciennes' strong walled City* Thick owre Dunkirk's fatal plain. W i l l (though dauntless) saw wi' pity, Britain's valiant sons lie slain. Fired by freedom's burning fever, Gallia's rack Death's slaughtering knell, Frae the Scheldt to Rhine's deep, river, Britons fought—but Britons fell. Fell unaided, though cemented By the faith of friendship's laws j Fell unpitied ! unlamented I Bluiding in a thankless cause. In the thrang of comrades deeing, Fighting foremost of them a', Swith ! Fate's winged ball cam fleeing, And took Willie's leg in twa. Thrice frae aff the grund he started, Thrice to stand he strave in vain, Thrice, as fainting strength departed, Sighed—and sank 'mid heaps of slain, �17 Erskine, wha ne'er slighted merit, Marked him 'mid the bloody fray ; Save that gallant daring spirit, 1 Twice he saved my life the day, * fast on battle raging,. T ed our stalwart youths awa, Day by day new faes engaging, Forced the weary back to fa'. Driven at last frae post to pillar, Left by friends wha ne'er proved true. Tricked by knaves wha poucliecl our siller, .J^fJiat could worn-out valour do ? Myriads 4ark, Jike gathering thunder,Bursting, spread owre land and sea ; Left alane> alas ! nae wonder Britain's sons were forced to flee. * V C. ' °" ' ' '• • Cross the W a r e and (Yssel frozen, .Deqp through bogs and drifted snaw, Wounded, weak, and spent, our chosen Gallant men now faint and fa. On, a cart wi5 comrades bluiding, . j Stiff wi' gore, and cauJd as clay, Without cover, bed, or bedding, • Five lang nights W i l l Gairlace lay. In a sick-house, damp and rianuw, (Left behind, wi' hundred mair,) See W i l l neist, in pain and sorrow, Wasting on a bed of care. �Ite Wounds, arid paiii^ and; til; Doctors curo«I wi' healing art Cured, alas ! but never, never, Cooled the fever at his hearts For, whan a' war sound and sleopihgV' Still and on, baith ear and lafc, Will in briny grief lay steeping, 'U Mourning owre liS hapless" M e . * A ' liis gowden prospects vanished, A fek'U^a^a / l ^ ^ d ^ A ^ t ^ i Jiewl . liio g!Aii/i/Oii-iit? jjiianLum^ uaxiioiiuu, h T Will^btild 1 tlifrik of ndi^Kt btWWme. ' Kural labour, rural ploys ; F a r frae carnage, bluid, and riot, ; n W a r , arid m 2 i i a Back to Britain's fertile garden, ' • Will's returned (exchanged for fires), Wi 5 ae leg, and no a farden, Friend or creffit; nieat cHr claiseV U f ' Lang through country, burgh, and city Crippling on a wooden leg, Gathering alms frae melting pity, See poor'Gairkce forced to beg.J Placed at length on Chelsea's bounty, Now" to lariger beg Uiinfcs sh^iji^, } . Dreams' anee mair of smiling plenty, Dreams of former joys, and liifeffe/ * �W H a m e r a h d & its fond attractions, Fast to Will's warm ljo^om fleer f Wliild; the though is of deflr eonpeetio^ ^ Swell "his feart and' Wmd his t ^ M ^ Monste¥-P wha cMd ] ike ne?p&£eif Tkree stoa' infants and & Wffe/\ ; ? n a J Naked, starving, unprotected, "iko'l 8VS Them too 'dearer airee than <2 Villain! w h k ^ P g r a c e s 11 Changed1 hek*'FFIFFTCR^elailcholy^ M 1 Reggar y^ ^ - ^ j f e M i $ $ $ JB Starting; flikrdti&ftj'1 Crushed w i ' " g r i e F ^ e r t t ^ l b a y p Up h e B a n g e d / d ^ ^ ^ m ^ t e S ^ 7 ^ Sad and siletft Sometimes briskly, sometimes flaggin ' Sometimes helpit/ Will gat-forth, - \ On a carl' 6r iii a Waggon / ^ ' hsfmno^/ Hirplin^ ayfet$#ards th& - ii cMli. Tired at ^eniri^/ ifefprping h M y , ; i r ; G s ' Pondering oh Ms thra^ard fate, ' : In the boiiiiy : month-rf July, 1 ; : ^ <; "Willie, ' Aft the southland b r e e z e W a w i i i g , *7 SwTeetly si ghecHhe green ake'Vood, Loud the din of streams fast fd'ifig, Strack the ear wi* thundering thud; �20 Ewes and lambs on braes ran bleating, Linties sang on ilka tree, Frae the west the sun, near setting, Flamed on Roslin's towers sae hie. Roslin's toners and braes sae bonny, Craigs and water, woods and glen, Roslin's Ibanks ! unpeered by ony, Save the muse's Hawthorn den. Ilka sound and charm delighting, Will (though hardly fit to gang,), Wandered onfthrough scenes inviting, Listening to the mavis' sang. Faint at length, the day fast closing, On- a fragrant strawberry steep, Esk s sweet strea.ni to rest composing, Wearied ^ f a t u r e drapt asleep. Soldier, rise ! the dews of e'ening Gathering, fa' wi' deadly skaith I Wounded soldier ! if complaining Sleep nae here to catch your death. Traveller, waken !-—night advancing, - Cleeds wi' gray the neebouring hill; Lambs nae mair on knowes are dancing A ' the woods are mute and still. W h a t hae cried Willie, waking, W h a t hae I frae night to dree P Morn, through clouds in splendour breaking Light's nae brightning hope to me. �21 House nor hame, nor farm nor steading, Wife nor bairns hae I to see, House nor hame, nor bed nor bedding, ) W h a t hae I frae night to dree ? Sair, alas ! and sad arid pianyv Are the ills poor mortals share, Yet, though hame nor bed ye hae nae, Yield nae, Soldier, to despair. What's this If Hope's See, though Yon sma- life, sae vvae and weatie, brightning beams should fail night comes, dark and'eerie, cot-light cheers the dale. There, though walth and waste ne'er tiot, Humbler joys their comforts shed, Labour—health—content and quiet-— Mourner ! there ye'se get a, bed. Wife 'tis true, wi' bairnies smiling, There, alas ! ye need nae seek~ T . Yet their Bairns* ilk care beguiling', ml" > Paint wi' smiles a mither's cheek. A' her earthly pride and plga^ure Left to cheer her widow'd lot, . A ' her warldly walth and treasure To adorn her lanely cot {. Cheer, then, Soldier, midst affliction Brightning joys will aften shine ; Vttttae aye claims Heaven's protection Trust to providence divine I r y: : �22 Sweet as RosebarikVwoods and rivet Cool, wheii simmerV sunbeams dart, Cam ilk word, and cooled the fever That lang'burned at Willies heart. Silent stept he on, poor fallow, Listening to his guide before, Owre green know and gowany hallow, Till they reached the cot-houge door. Laigh it was; yet sweet, though fumble; Decked wi' hinnysuckle rdund; Clear below Esk's waters ru mble, v Deep glens murmuring back tlie sound. MelvilTs towers, <&e" white and stately, Dim by gldaming glint to view; Thro' Lasstoade's dark woods keek sweetly, Skies fei y tiri$ : BR %ae 1>lu6f Entering now in trarispoft mingle, Mither fMd } and \^eanl . XFJ C • I. round aTLIJ ' mgle. I • >I capty omiling Blessing on a cleah heartli stane.' Soldier, welc&ne !-Tcome, be cheery-?—i Here yese rest, and take your bed-, , Faint, \vae£ fne! ye seem, and weary, Pale's your cnt&k, sae lately red. Changed l a m , sighed Willie till her; Changed, nae doubt, as changed can.be5 Yet, alas! does Jeanie Miller Nought of Willie Gairiace see ? JO 1 �23 Hae ye marked th#. dews of morning 7/ " Kjrlitleripg. in the sunny Say4 , ,I( > Quickly fa, , vrhan, without warning. Rough blastsJcam and shook the spray, ,Hae ye seep the. hi j$$fast. fleeing • • > v tl I * . Drap when pierced by Death mair fleet ? Then see Jean, wi1 colour deeing, ;it Senseless drap at Willie's feet* 1- i'ivl V~ After t^uffja lang y^s'japUetfen i i ( A ' tjieif ways now hushed t o u : Jeari ance fond aiF0§jtipn C l a s p s , W i l l i e to, her breast. » TellsjJjim a1 ^er/fa^^i^jiifferifegpoq sdgid Mow she wandered, starving pooi-V ' 1 ; Gleaming Pity's scanty, offerings ; "A 1 Wi tol •- * bairns,- frae * "• to door] three *' J •• door .ill * ' * How sh$? s^ved^-and; jftoiled^-artd ievered/ Lost her health andqsyne her bread ; How that grief, when scarce recovered* t>ibl Took her brain and turned her head/ How she wandered round the country Mony a live-lang night her lane; ? Till at last an angel'§ bounty Brought her senses back again, > i3 • Gae her meat—and claise—and siller; Gae her bairnie?s wark and lear 5 Lastly, gae this cot-house till her, W i ' four sterling pounds a year. �24 Willi e9 heark'ning, wiped his e'en aye 5— 'Oh I what sins hae I to rue ! 6 But say, wha's this angel, Jeanie ! / W h a , quo Jeanie, 4 hut Buccleugh ! 4 Here, supported—cheered—-and cherished Nine blessed months I've lived and mair; Seen these infants clad and nourished, Dried my tears and tint despair/ Sometimes serving, sometimes spinning., Light the lanesome hours gae round; Lightly, too, ilk quarter rinning. Brings yon angels helping pound ! Eight pounds mair, cried Willie, fondly, Eight pounds mair, will do nae harm, And, O Jean, gin friends war kindly, Eight pounds soon might stoclt a farm. There ance mair to thrive by ploughing, Freed frae a' that peace destroys, Idle waste and drueken ruin, W a r , and a its murdering joys ! T Thrice he kissed his lang lbs£ treasure; Thrice ilka bairn—but could nae speak; Tears of love, and hope* and pleasure, Streamed in silence down his cheek. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 026: Title-page illustration of a Highland soldier in a kilt and plaid socks holding an upright rifle in a outdoor scene. A door in background is imprinted with the letter "V". Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The History of Will and Jean: or, The sad effects of Drunkenness. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943831143505154">s0615b41</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The sad effects of drunkeness Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1850?] per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource 36 printed at the bottom of the title-page. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Alcohol 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&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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 Accrual Method The method by which items are added to a collection. Purchased through the Jane Grier Family Trust. 2012 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 Glasgow: 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 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire Fashion (Clothing): kilt Fashion (Clothing): military Fashion (Clothing): sporran Gender: man/men Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Weapons: gun(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ccddcd6238aa600b316b7cbbc1f29221.pdf 55d43066f9838a506d16837028aa7dbb PDF Text Text The wealth of the Cottage is love. Behave yourseU afore folk. My Henry is gone. Hey the bonny breast-knots. Say, my heart, why wildly beating. Ye shall walk in silk attire. The kiss, dear Maid. KILMARNOCK: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. �2 THE W E A L T H OF T H E IS LOVE. COTTAGE A BLESSING unknown to ambition and pride. That fortune can never abate, T o wealth and to splendour tho* often denied^ Yet on poverty deigns to await. That blessing, ye powers! O be it my lot! The choicest, best gift from above, Deep fix'd in my heart, shall be never forgot— The wealth of the cottage is love. Whate'er my condition, why should I repine, By poverty never distressed ? Exulting I felt what a treasure was mine— A treasure enshrin'd in my breast. That blessing , ye powers ! still be it my lot The choicest, best gift from above, Still fix'd in my heart, shall be never forgot— That the wealth of the cottage is love. B E H A V E Y O U R S E L ' AFORE F O L I C BEHAVE yoursel* afore folk, Behave yourseP afore folk, And dirma be sae rude to me, And kiss me sae afore folk. IT wadna gi'e me muckle p<\ia, Gin we were seen and heard by naue^ �s To tak a kiss, or grant you ane; Eut gudesake no afore folk. Behave yourseP afore folk, Behave yourseP afore folk, Wliate'er ye 4o when out o* view, Be cautious aye afore folk. Consider, lad, how folk will crack, And what a great affair they'll rnak9 0 ' m e t h i n g but a simple smack, Thai's gi'en, or ta'en before folk. Behave yourseP afore folk, Behave yourseP aiore folk, Nor gPe the tongue o' auld or young Occasion to come o'er folk. It's no thro' hatred o' a kiss, That I sae plainly tell you this, But, losh, I tak? k sair amiss J o be sae ie?zed afore folk. Behave yourseP afore folk, Behave yourseP afore folk, When we're our line ye may tak* ane. But feint a ane afore folk. Fm sure to you Fve been as free As ony modest lass can be* But yet it does na do to see, Sic freedom os?d afore folk, Behave yourseP afore felk, Behave yourseP afore folk ; I'll ne'er submit again to it* So mind you that afore folk. �4 Y o u tell me that my face is f a i r It may be sae, I dinna care, But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair5 Af> ye ha'e done afore folk. Behave yourseP afore folk 5 Behave yourseP afore f o l k ; N o r heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks^ But aye be douce afore folk. Y e tell me that my lips are sweet, Sic tales I doubt are deceit; A t ony rate it's haridy meet, T o pree these sweets afore folk, . Behave yourseP afore folk, Behave yourself afore folk ; Gin that's the case, there's time and place, But surely no afore folk, But gin ye really do insist, T h a t I should suffer to be kiss'd, Gae get a licence frae the priest, A n d mak' me yours afore folk. Behave yourseP afore folk, Behave ycursei' afore f o l k ; A n d when we're ane baith flesh and bane, Y e may tak* t e n — a f o r e folk. M Y H E N R Y IS G O N E . G green, are the groves where with Henry I stray'd! i And bright are the hills all around* 11 �5 The fields and the vallies are gaily array:M, And fresh -flowrets enamel the ground. CHORUS. But my Henry is gone, and left me forlorn, T o deplore the most faithless of m e n ; T h e flowers of hope from my bosom are torn, And they never shall blossom again, They never shall blossom again. The birds sing as sweetly on ev'ry green thorn* i h e brook steals as soft through the grove, The son shines as bright^ and as sweet smiles the mom, As they did when I roam'd with my love. But my Henry is gone, &c» H E Y T H E BONNIE BREAST-KNOTS* Hey the bonnie* ho the bonnie. Hey the bonnie breast-knots; Blythe and merry were they a' When they put on their breast-knots. There was a bridle in this town, And till't the lasses a' were boun', Wi* mankie facings on thsir gown, And some of them had breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, &c. �6 A t nine o'clock the lads convene, Some clad in blue some clad in green, W r shinin' buckles in their sheen, And flowers upon their waistcoats* Out cam the wives a* wi* a phrase, And wish'*! the lasses happy days, And muckle thought they o' their claise/ Especially the breast-knots. Singing, hey the bonnie, See. SAY, MY HEART, WHY BEATING ? WILDLY Say, my heart, why wildly beating ? Dost thou such emotion prove ? Canst thou, when thy lover meeting, Fear his truth or doubt his love? No, 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 ' e r ; For with doubt and fearing, never bhali thou throb—no, no* no, never more. Light of life and life's b^st blessing, Is the love that meets return. Shall I, that rich boon possessing, E'er the matchless blessing spurn i �No, fondly no, my bosom sighs* No, gently no, my heart replies. Then be joy my inmate ever. Since each anxious dread is o'er ; For with fear and doubting, never Shall it throb—no* no* no, never more. AND YE SHALL W A L K ATTIRE. IN SILK AND ye shall walk in silk attire* And siller hae to spare, Gin ye'l! consent to be my bride, Nor think on Donald nvair. 0 wha would buy a silken gowm WY a poor broken heart ? Or what's to me a siller crown, Gin frae my love I part ? And ye shall walk, &c. 1 wadna walk in silk attire, Nor braid wi* gems my hair, Gin he whose faith is pledg'd wi* mine* Were wrang'd and grieving sair. From infancy he lov'd me stil!, And still my heart shall prove How weel it can those vows fulfil* Which first repaid his love* I wadna walk, �T H E KISS, D E A R MAID, T h e kiss» dear maid, thy lip has left Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours rest on the gift, Untainted back to thine. T h e parting glance which fondly beams* An equal love may s e e ; T h e tear that from thy eyelid streams Can weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blest, In gazing when alone ; Nor one memorial for a breast, W h o s e thoughts are all thine own. By day or night, in weal or woe. That heart no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show. And silent ache for thee. UN IS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9047cc4914f23cc96685c46ee6457b74.jpg 93edc2a179824d932c6bcf4bd09aef89 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 4212 Width 2412 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a man wearing a hat and coat with walking stick in front of a small house Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 035:Title-page illustration of a man with a walking stick standing in front of a cottage. 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 Songs. The wealth of the Cottage is love. Behave yoursel' afore folk. My Henry is gone. Hey the bonny breast-knots. Say, my heart, why wildly beating. Ye shall walk in silk attire. The Kiss, dear Maid. 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 wealth of the Cottage is love. Behave yoursel' afore folk. Hey the bonny breast-knots. Say, my heart, why wildly beating. Ye shall walk in silk attire. The Kiss, dear Maid. My Henry is gone. 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 #32 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks 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 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 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 An entity responsible for making the resource available Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource c. 1811-1820 based on similar woodcut illustrations in chapbooks by same publisher in NLS collections. Description An account of the resource Woodcut #35: Illustration on title-page of a man wearing a hat and coat with walking stick standing in front of a small house https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ed594a5a6a12149008a4d884cae908a5.pdf 4a986bc223aa367865ea3df576afeedf PDF Text Text A COLLECTION OF N. O CONTAINING XVI f. THE MOON ON THE OCEAN. LOUDON'S BONNY WOODS AND BRAES. THE OLD COMMODORE. MY NATIVE CALEDONIA. LOVELY NAN. KATHLEEN O'MORE. EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR THR BOOKSELLERS. �The Moon on the Ocean. 'the raooa on the ocean was dimtiiM by a ripple, Affording a chequered light, %he gay jolly tars pass'd 'the word for the tipple*, And toast, for 'twas Saturday night; Some sweetheart or wife, , He lov'd a^ his life, JEach drank and wished he could hail her. But the standing toast, '' * That pleasYi live "most, W a s the wind that blows, The ship that goes, And the iass that loves a sailor, Scnre d m t k the king, Botoe his brave s'hip^ some the constitution';' . may the French, and all such rips, Yield to English resolution ; That fate might bless Some Poll or Ikss, A fed that they soon might hail her. But the standing, he. Softvfc drank the prince,., and some our land*: This glorious land of freedom ; Some that our tars may never want Heroes brave to lead 'them-; Th&t she whoVin Distress may find Buck friends who ne'er will fail her! Hut the standing, &€, >] > . ;f < 4 . jl It| f . '.:» 1 �3'. Eoudons bonny Woods' and Bract* I^oudonV bohnip woods and braes, I maun leave tb^in a', la«sie ; W h a qan thole whan BritekiVfaes-. Wad gie Britons law, lassie ? W h a wad: shun, the mtld o r danger^ . W h a frae fame wad live a, stranger ?• New, when, Freedom bids avm«;e her^ Wha wad shun her ca', lassie ? Isoudens bonaie woods 'and h.rap^. Hae seen our happy bridal day ^ And gentle hope shall so )the thy When I am far awar, !piie.' Hack ! the swelling Bugle Yielding joy to thee, laddie ; But the dolefu* bugle brings Wgefu* thoughts to me, laddie. Lanely I may climb the tfiouritain^ Lanely stray beside the .£01111 tain. Still the wearie moments counting Far frae love and thee, laddie* O'er the gory fields of wa?, Where Vengeance, drives" her m^ T h o a l t may he fa\ frae me afar, And iiane to. clp.se thy eV, laddie. Q resume thy wonted ile ! O suppress tjiy ft-arsr la sie ! . GJorioip honour crown? tfie toil That the soldier shares, lassie;. �Heaven wilt shield thy faithfu5 loveiy Till the vengeful strife be over, Then we'll meet, nae mair to sever, 'Till the day we die, lassie. 'Midst our bonnie woods and braes, W e l l spend our peaceful happy days, As Wythe's yon lightsome Iamb that plays On Loudon's ilovvery lea* lassie. The Old Commodore. Od'sblood ! what a time for a seaman to skulk Under gingerbread hatches ashore; What a damn'd bad job that this batter'd old hulk Can't be rigged out for sea once more; But the puppies, as they pass, Cocking up a quizing glass, Thus run down the old commodore: That's the old commodore— The rum old commodore-— The gouty old commodore—he ! W h y the bullets1 and the gout Have so knocked his hull about, That he'll never more be fit for sea; t . 'v* il'iK^ V ifl Here am I in distress, like a ship water-logg'd r Not a tow-rope at hand, nor an oar; I am left by my crew, and may I be flogg'd. But the doctor's a son of a w . While Vm swallowing his slops, H o w nimble are his chpps,.. �4 Thus queering ihe old commodore: A bad case, commodore ! — Can't say, commodore ! MusVt flatter, commodore, says lie, For the bullets and the gout Have so knock a your hull about, That you'll never more be fit for &ea. W h a t ! no more to be afloat ! blood and fury I they lie, I'm a seaman, only threescore ; And if, as they tell me, I'm likely to.die, Gadzooks I let me not die ashore. A s to death, 'tis ail a joke, Sailors live in fire and smoke. So, at least, says an old commodore: The rum old commodore— T h e tough old commodore, The fighting o!d commodore—he ! Whom the devi!y nor the gout, Nor the French dogs to boot. Shall kill till they grapple him at sea. My Native Caledonia. Sair, sair was my heart, when I parted fVae my J ean, And sair, sair I sigli'd, while the tears stood m my een; For my daddie is but poor, and my fortune is-sae* sma', Jt gars me leave my native Caledonia* �^•hen I think oji days gane, and -sae h a p p y I, hae^ > been, When wandering m nit dearie, where the primrose blaws unseen, I'm wae to leave my lassiq, an'my (Inddie's cot ava, Or to leave the healthfit bree&e of Caledonia. Rut wherever J wander, still happy b^,my Jean, Nae care disturb her bosom, where peace has ever been ; Then tho v ills on ills bpfa' me, for her 111 bear tjheip a\ T h o ' aft I'll heave a; sigh, for Caledonia. But should riches e'er be mine, and my J^anie still l)e true, Then blaw, ye favring breezes, till my native lotn$ I view; Then 1/11 kneel on Scotia's shore, while the hearty felt tear shall fa'* And never leave my Jean nor Caledonia. Eovely Nun, ' Sweet's the ship that, under sail, Spreads her, white .bosom to the gale, Svveet, oh ! sweet's the flowing can ; Sweet to poise the labouring oar, ' . That tugs us to our native shore, hen the bo^Lsvraui pipes the b^rge t.© mao,;:. �V ,' >7 '" Svvert mailing with a farming breeze"; But oh ! much sweeter than all thes>e> Is Jack's delight^ his lovely Nan. The needle fakhful to the north, T o shew of constancy the worth, A curious lessot) teaches man ; The needle time may rest, a squall Capsize the hinacle and ail, Let seamanship do all it can : My love in worth shall higher rise, Nor time shall rust, nor scjuais c a p s i ^ My faith and truth to lovely Nan. When iii the bilboes I was pennM, For serving of a worthless Mend, And every creature from me ran ; N o bhip performing quarantine, W a s ever so deserted seen, None hailed me, woman, child, nor mm*; But though false friendship s sails were Though cut adrift by all the world, I'd. all tirn world in lovely Nan-. , 1 love my duty, love my, fi;kr?fJ, Love truth and merit to defend. T o moan their loss, who hazard ran ; I love to take an honest part, Love beauty and a spotless heart; By manners love to shew the man ; T o sail through fife by honour's breeze-^ ' T was all •along of loving these thirst made me doat on ioveij Nan. �8 Kaihhen (TMore. M y love, still I think thSt I Fee her once more, Jiwt alas ! she has left rne, her loss to deplore, My own little Kathleen, my poor lost Kathleen, my Kathleen, O. Her hair glossy black, her eyes were dark blue, Her colour still changing, her smiles ever new, So pretty was Kath'een, my sweet little Kathleen, mv Kathleen, 0 . Sire milled the dun cow, that ne'er offerd to stir, Th<>' wicked it was, it was gentle to her, So kind was my Kathleen, my poor little Kathleen, my Kathleen Q. f '.li-e sat at the door one cold afternoon, T o hear the wind blow, and to look at the moon, So pensive was Kathleen, my .poor little Kathleen, my Kathleen O . Gold was the night breeze that sigh'd round her bowV, It chiird my poor Kathleen, she dropp'd from that hour, And I lost my poor Kathleen, my own little Kathleen, my Kathleen G. Th*e birds of all birds that X love the best, ; Is the Ptobin that in the churchyard builds his nest, For he seems to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on Kathleen, my Kathleen 0» � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a0b9d2206737cb3d40f429b1e32c4ce4.jpg eb1156617787c23eec005699d798f45b Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3996 Width 2478 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on title page in double line rectangular frame of three sailors drinking on ship. Standing man on the left is drinking from a cup; man in middle is sitting with cup on his knee looking towards the man on his right; man on the right is holding his cup out towards the other two men. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 091: Title-page illustration in double line rectangular border of three sailors drinking on a ship. The sailor on the left is standing and drinking from a cup; the sailor in middle is sitting with cup on his knee looking towards the sailor on his right; the sailor on the right is holding his cup out towards the other two sailors. 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 A Collection of Songs, &amp;c. No. XVII containing The Moon on the Ocean. Loudon's Bonny Wood and Braes. The Old Commodore. My Native Caledonia. Lovely Nan. Kathleen O'More. 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 Moon on the Ocean. Loudon's Bonny Wood and Braes. The Old Commodore. My Native Caledonia. Lovely Nan. Kathleen O'More. 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 #33 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks Description An account of the resource No. XVII printed on title-page. <span>Woodcut 91: Illustration on title page in double line rectangular frame of three sailors drinking on ship. Standing man on the left is drinking from a cup; man in middle is shitting with cup on his knee looking towards the man on his right; man on the right is holding his cup out towards the other two men.</span> 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 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. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Alcohol Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Edinburgh: Printed for the Bookseller 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 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1815-1825?] # of Woodcuts: 1 Activity: drinking Architecture: pillar(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1811-1820 Chapbook Date: 1821-1830 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Edinburgh: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): sailor uniform Food & Drink Gender: man/men Object: crate/barrel(s) Object: cup(s) Occupation : sailor Outdoor Scene Transportation: ship/boat(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/089112e54579f350233e5498a9e65f24.pdf e12fc4ee7ebe7f1f4776934bc0799ec0 PDF Text Text The Anchor's weigh'd. Here's a health to all good Lasses. 'Twas merry in the Hall. Cherry Ripe. Pray Goody, please to moderate. And has she then fail'd. The young May moon. Flv not vet. ' B> KILMARNOCK: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 4 �POPULAR SONGS. THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHS THE tear fell gently from her eye. When last we parted on rhe shore: M y bosom heav'd with many a sigh, T o think I ne'er might see her more* Bear youth, she cried, and canst thou haste ,aw a y ; M y heart will break—a little moment stay. Ah&\ I cannot—I cannot part from thee* The anchor's weighM—farewell! farewell! remember me I Weep not, my love, I trembling said ; Doubt not a constant heart like mijie. X pe er can meet another maid Whosp charms can tlx my heart like thine* G o , then, she cried, but let thy constant miri4 Oft think of her thou leiv'st in tears behind, A maid—this last embrace my pledge shall be. The anchor's weigh'd—farewellI farewell! rt» member me i �HERE'S A HEALTH TO ALL LASSES. GOOD H E R E ' S a health to all good lasses, Pledge it merrily, fill your glasses, Let a bumper toast go round! May they live a life of pleasure, Without mixture, without measure, For with them true joys are found, T W A S M E R R Y IN T H E HALL, Now ancient English melodies Are banish*ti out of doors, And nothing's heard in modern dayt$f But Sigftoras and Signorg. Such airs I hate Like a pig in a gate, Give me the good old strain* When 'twas merry in the hall, The beards wagg'd all, We shall ne?efr see the liVe ?gi\n$ W e -shall ne'er see - the like again. On beds of down our dandies lay, And waste the cheerful morn, �4 While cur squires o f old would rouse the day •(I T o the sound of the bugle horn. And rheir wives took care The feast to prepare ; For when they left the plain, O h ! 'twas merry in the hall, The beards wagg'd all, W e shall ne'er see the like again, W e shall ne'er see the like again. T w a s then the Christmas tale was told Of goblin, ghost, or fairy, And they cheer'd the hearts of the tenants old With a cup of good canary. And they each took a smack < * At the cold blackjack, Till the fire burn'd in their brain; O h ! 'twas merry in the hall, The beards wagg'd all, May we all see the like again ! * May we all see the like again ! CHERRY RIPE. Cherry ripe, cherry ripe, ripe, X c r y ; Full and fair ones come and buy. Cherry ripe, cherry ripe, ripe, I c r y ; Full and fair ones come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grew, I answer there* �5 Where the sunbeams sweetly smile. There's the land or cherry isle. Cherry ripe, &c. Where the sunbeams sweetly smile, There's the land or cherry isle. There plantations fully shew All the year wh*re clierries grow. Cherry ripe, ripe, cherry ripe., I cry % Full aiad fair ones come and buy, Fall and fair ones come and buy. PRAY GOODY. PRAY, Goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue* Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes? Remember when the judgment's weak the pre« judice is strong, A stranger why will you despise ? Ply me, Try me, Prove ere you deny me, If you cast me Off, you blast me Never more to rise. Pray Goody, &e. �§ H 45 SHE T H E N FAILED TRUTH-? IN HER A k b has she then fail f d in her truth, T h e beautiful maicl I dchre ? Shall I never again hear her voice, I or N U r lov'd form any more ? N o , no, no, I shall never c©^? her more, N o , ncfe no, I shall never see her more, N o , no, no, I shall never, never see her more. A h I Selima, cruel you prove? Y e t sure my hard lot you'll bewail, I could not presume you would love, Yet pity I hop'd would prevail. Yet pity, pity, pity, I hop*dj> I hop'd, would prevail. And since hatred alone I inspire* Life henceforth is not worth my care} Death-now is my only desire, I give myself up to despair. And has. she, & c . THE Y O U N G M A Y MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, H o w sweet to rove, Thro' Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming love. �7 Then awake, the heavens look bright, my dear* 'Trs never too late for delight* my deai>! And the best of all ways. T o lengthen our d a p , Is to steal a lew hours from the night, my dear, Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the sage, his star-watch keeping* love, And I, whose star, More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love* Then awake till rise of sun, mv dear. The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or in watching the flight O f bodies light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dean FLY N O T Y E T . TUNE—* Planxty Kelly! Fur not yet, 'tis just the hour, When pleasure, like the midnight flow'* That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. *Twas but to bless these ho<urs of shade That beauty and the moon were rnvde; * Fis then the soft attractions, glowing. Set the tides and goblets Rowing. �8 Oh stay ! Oh stay ! Joy to seldom weaves a chain l i k e this tonight, that oh ! 'tis pain T o break its links so soon. Fly not yet, the fount that play'd In times of old, thro* Amnion's shade, Tho' icy cold by day it ran, Yet still, like souls of mirth, began T o burn when night was near; And thus should woman's heart and looks* A t noon be cold as winter brooks, Nor kindle till the night returning, Brings their genial hour for burningOh stay ! Oh stay \ When did morning ever break, And End such beaming eyes awake As those that sparkle here i FINIS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d0a7f5f975a9984f1bc7a33a984c32b9.jpg e87001f01f0017ddcb5ec40ca16e3edb Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 4188 Width 2430 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on title-page of a tall ship at sea. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 090: Title-page illustration of a tall ship at sea. 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 Eight Songs. The Anchor's weigh'd. Here's a health to all good Lasses, 'Twas merry in the Hall. Cherry Ripe. Pray Goody, please to moderate. And has she then Fail'd. The young May moon. Fly not yet. 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 Anchor's weigh'd. Here's a health to all good Lasses, 'Twas merry in the Hall. Cherry Ripe. Pray Goody, please to moderate. And has she then Fail'd. The young May moon. Fly not yet. 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 #34 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks 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 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 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Description An account of the resource Woodcut #90: Illustration on title-page of a tall ship at sea. Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers Outdoor Scene Transportation: ship/boat(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/98bd8f556c99bbc509ee25019600dc95.pdf f0c0839b20ada875dccce8b629b80bdd PDF Text Text A COLLECTION OF SONGS, No» CONTAININGJACK AT GREENWICH. T H E KEBBUCKSTON WEDDING. T O M BOWLING* ALL'S WELL. T H E S M I L E A N D T H E TEAR* PRlJfTEJ? FOB THE XVlfl. �J a c/i. j t / Gtccrix^tch. W f T a r s are alj fnr fun m d glee, ' "A "fcornpipe was Wy notion ;' T i m e was I'd dance with any he, T h a t sails i h e i ^ t - ^ a o c e a n : Yd tip the roll, \hc mde, the reel, Back* h > n \ a ? i n the middle ; And rofl[-st the pig.. and- toe and heel, All going with the fiddle : B u t one day toM -a Vhot'to n u n , T o chace the advancing ; A splinter queer\l my larboard gam, A n d , dannVie, Vp-•)} 11 my dancing. W e l l , I ' m , .say* JL.no churlish elf, W e messmates/he brothers ; T h o u g h I can't have noJjuu myselfy I may make fun tor others : A fiddle soon I made my own, T h a t girls and tars might caper L e a r n t R u l e Britannia, Bobbing J o a n , A n d giow\l a decent scraper: B u t j u s t as I ' d the knack on*t got, A n d did it pretty m i d d l i n g ; I lost my elbow by a shot, A n d , darn'me, spoilt my fiddling. So sometimes, as I I got a knack of A s I should be an A n d then I lilrn'd my quid, thinking; Invalid, to-drinking :H �& ©ne d&y ..o&HVi dow.nr w,V'-guii lo man* T o lip it witli the p r u v ; . ; • • I gave three chefet\£v awl tank the daiij T o drink, the British: •N'-u-y.;: Before a single drop Fd si pi, v Or got it to mv muzzle ; A langrkioe off""my..daddie whipt, A n d , dam'me, spilt the guzzle. So then I took to taking snuff, 'Cause how my sorrows doubled ; And pretty pastime 'twas enou^fe, D ' y e see when I was trbuWecf:" B u t fortune, that mischievcniii elf, Still at some fun or o t h e r ; N o t that I minds it for my%\t\ But just fdr Poll and AUhher ; One day, while l a y i n g oif a u taek t T o keep two spanking f t^ off, A broadside comes, capsizes J a c k , A n d , dum'me, knocks in v nosb off. So in misfortuTie's school grown tough, In tbis same sort of knowledge ; T h i n k i n g , mayhap, T d not enough, T h e y sent me hejre to college: And hete we tell old tales and smoke* And laugh, while we are d r i n k i n g ; Sailors you know will haya'vlu:ir joke, though the ship weie Unking: �4 F o r I , while I get g r o g to drink, M y wife, or friend, or king in j ? Twill be no easy thing, I think, D a m m e , to spoil my singing. The Kehhuck&ton Wedding, Auld W a t t y of Kebbuckston brae, W i t h lear and reading of books auld farrcii, W h a t think ye ! the body came owre the day, A n d tauld us he*s gaun to be married to M i r r e n , W e £ got a bidding, T o g a n g to the wedding, Baith J o h n n i e and Sandy, and Nelly and N a n n y ; A n d T a r n o* the Knowes, H e swears and he T O W S , A t the dancing he'll f&ce to the bride his grannie, A* the lads hae trystet their joes, Slee Willie came and ea\i 011 Nelly, A l t h o u g h she was heeht to Geordie Bowse, She's gien him the g u n k , and &hVs gaun wi Willie. W e e collier Johnni@ H a s yocket his p a n e y , A n d ' s a f F t o t h e town for a lading af n a p p y , W T fouth of good meat T o serve us to eat, Sae with f i d d l i n g and feasting we'll a* be fa' happy« �W e e P a t l l r y die's- to say the grace, T h e body's aye ready at dredgies and weddings, A n d flunkey M ' F e e of Sciverton place, I s chosen to scuttle the pies and the puddings. F o r there'll be plenty Of ilka thing dainty, Baith Iang kail and haggis, and every thing fitting, W i t h luggies of beer, O u r wizzens to clear, Sae the de'il fill his ky te wh$ gaes clung frae t h e taeetin. L o w r i e has eaft Gibbie Cameron's g u n , T h a t his auld gtitcher bore when he followed Prince C h a r l i e ; T h e barrel was rusted as black as the g r u n , B u t he's ta'en't to the smiddy a n d ' i fettl'd it rarely. W i t h wallets of pout her, H i s musket he'll shouther, And ride at our head, to the bride's a1 parading. A t ilka farm town He'll fire t h e m three rouiiY Till the hale k i n t r y ring with the Ivehbuefcstau wedding. J a m i e and J o h n n i e maun ride the brouse, For few like them can sit in the saddle ; And Willie Cobreath, the b#st of bows, Is trysted to j i g in the.; ban* with his fiddle* �6 W'ltii wkibkhig anci linking,. ; And-reeling a n d wheeling, T h e young ^ a' hkp. t® loop out u\ tfie , And Neijie M ' N a i r n , T h o ' sair forfairu,. H e vows that he'll wallop tvva sets wi' fh;e howdie* Sauney M ' N a b / w i t k iu^ t a j t a p . trews, • l i a s hecht to come down in the midst of the A n d gie us three wallops of merry ahantrevys, W i t h the t r u e highland fliog of M a e r i m m o n D O the Piper. Si? hipping' and skipping,, A M springing and fiingirig, F s e wad that there's uane in the L a w l a n d s can . Wodf it ! F a i t h | Willie niafm fiddle, A n d j i r g u m and diddle, A nd screed till tiie.swect fV in beads frae his haffet. T h e f t ' g i e me y o u r hand, my trusty good frien% * And gie me your word, my worthy au'lt! k u n m e r , Y e l l baitji come? ,owre oa Friday hedec n, , A n d join us in ra'ntiri' and tooming the limmer* W i t h fouth of good liquor, We'll had at the bicker, A nd long may the mailing of Ifebbuckston flourish* F o r W a t t y ' s sae free, * Between you and use, I \ e warrant keY bidden the half of the parish- ; �r -i Tom ' Uoiclin^ H e r e , a siw-er huik, lies .poor T o m Bowling, T h e dar! inf of our. N o more he'll hear the tempest jmwling^ j^or d e k h has broached him to : I I i s form was of the manliest beauty. H i s heart'w^i^ MiiUf'^asid^ Fa i t h f u! be I o >v fe d id 1 m d u But now-he's•gpttealoft. T o m rveverfrom His word departed, H i s virtues were so rare, H i s frbruU .were many, and iruediearted^ • H b -Pi)!! w a s d u n d a n d . fair : A n d then he'd sing'so blithe and jolly, A In tunny's tbf time and oft ! Kill mM'tIi is turh-d to melancholy, F o r T o m is g o n e ' a j ^ f t Y e t shall poor T o m find pleasant' weather* W h e n i/e, who all c o m r n a i $ s , Shall g i v e / t o call life's crevy together. T h e word .to. pips -all h a n d s : ; « T h u s death, who kings and tarsdispatches* I n vain Torres life has drvft-'d, F o r though his body\s uiid^r hatches, I l i s soul is gone aloft. ii J sell biiia ri ^///'s well. Deserted hy the waning moon, W h e n ski:s proclaim night^ ehecrless noon, �CM tower, or fort, or tented ground, T h e sentry walks his lonely f o u n d ; A n d should a footstep haply stray W h e r e caution marks the guarded way™* W h o goes there ? stranger, quickly t e l l ; A friend T t h e word ? good night I all's well I O r sailing on the midnight deep, W h i l e weary messmates soundly sleep, 'The careful watch patroles the deck, T o guard the ship from foes or wreck : A n d while his thoughts oft homeward veer, S o m e well known voice salutes his ear—* W h a t cheer ? ho, brother, quickly t e l l ; Above I below ! good night I all's well 1 The Entile and the Tear. S a i d a smile to a tear, on the cheek of m y de&r^ W h i c h beamed like the sun in spring weather* I n sooth, lovely tear, it strange doth appear, T h a t we should be both here together. I come from the heart, a soft balm to impart T o yonder sad d a u g h t e r of g r i e f ; A n d I , said the smile, that heart to beguile, Since you gave the poor m o u r n e r relief. O h then, said the tear, s # e e t smile, it is clear W e are twins, and soft pity's our m o t h e r ; A n d how lovely that face,Which together we gracfyl F o r the woe and the bliss of another. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0f8cfe36aab9fe90fe8d0ee5f12ae2f8.jpg f96ce95c08671045d98072a32565e0f8 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 4044 Width 2466 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 A Collection of Songs, &amp;c. No. XVIII Containing Jack at Greenwich. The Kebbuckston Wedding Tom Bowling. All's Well. The Smile and the Tear. 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. Jack at Greenwich. The Kebbuckston Wedding Tom Bowling. All's Well. The Smile and the Tear. 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 #35 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks Description An account of the resource No. XVIII printed near the top of the title-page Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh 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&nbsp;</a> 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 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 Edinburgh: Printed for the Bookseller Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1815-1825?] https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/6d3f5de3be1d657479d62c1e30389387.pdf 49fd1acb15b423f3d5a0a62568c0b933 PDF Text Text FASHIONABLE SONGS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 The Death of Nelson. 'Tis the last Rose of Summer. The bonnie wee Rosebud. Blue Bonnets over the Border. Loch-na-Garr. The Lass o' Gowrie. Jenny, the Maid of the Moor. Cease your Funning. T H E D E A T H OF NELSON. f TwA5 in Trafalgar's bay, W e saw the f r e n c h m e n lay. Each heart was bounding t h e n ; W e scorn'ti the foreign yoke O u r ships were British oak, H e s r t s of oak our m e n . O u r Nelson mark'd them on the wave, T h r e e cheers our call ant seamen g w e , Nor thought of home or beauty j Along the Jine this signal ran— England expects that every man This day will do his duty. �2 A n d now the cannons roar Along the affrighted shore. O u r Nelson led the way* H i s ship the V i c t ' r y nam'd ; L o p g be that Victory fam'd I f o r victory crowri'd the day ! B a t dearly was that conquest bought, T o o well the gallant hero f o u g h t For England* home, and beauty ; H e criedj as 'midst the fire he r a n — E n g l a n d expects that every m m T h i s day will do his duty. A t last the fatal wound, W h i c h spread dismay around* T h e hero's breast received; H e a v ' n fights on o u r side. T h e day 9 s our o w n , he cried ; N o w long enough I've Hv'd ? I n honour's cause my life was past. I n honour's cause I fail at last F o r England,, home, - and beauty ! T h u s ending life as he began^ England confessed that ev'ry man T h a t day had done his duty. T I 3 THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. T i s the last rose of summer left blooming alone; All her lovely companions are faded and g o n e ; �s -No flower of her k i n d r e d — n o rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes* or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one* to pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping* go^ sleep thou with t he on T h u s kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed, W h e r e thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow w hen friendships decay* And f r o m love's shining circle the gems drop away. W h e n true hearts lie withered, and fond ones are flown, ' O h ! who would inhabit this bleak world alone ? THE BONNIE WEE ROSEBUD. A bonnie wee rosebud grows d o w n by yon burnie, A bonnie wee rosebud as e'er you did see ; W"i5 saf't silken leaves, underneath a green ihornie : O spare the wee rosebud ! O spare it for me t T h e redbreast sings- wanton around this sweet posie, F o n d , fond to make love doth the wee birdie flee, Sure nane'd be sae cruel as steal frae my breastie, - This bonnie wee r o s e b u d — Q - s p a r e it for m e ! �H o w fain would I change for the wee birdie's station ! H o w blythe wad I peep 'neath the green thorny tree ! Enraptured to muse, and transported to gaze on This faonrne w e e rosebud—O spare it for me S O hasten the moment, blest moment of pleasure, W h e n Joek'd to ray breast the wee rosebud will be, United for ever* my soul's dearest treasure— D o spare the wee rosebud, spare, spare it for me! BLUE BONNETS OVER THE BORDER. MARCH, march, Ettrick and T e v l o t d a l e : W h y , my lads, dinna ye march forward in order ? M a r c h , march, Eskdale and L i d d e s d d e ; All the blue bonnets are over the border. M a n y a banner spread flutters abov'e your head, Many a crest that is famous in story; Mount and make ready then, sons of the mountain gleiij for your Queen, and the old Scottish glory. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing; Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; �5 Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing r Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding, war-steeds are bound* ing; — Stand to your arms and march in good order: England shall many a day tell of the bloody fray, W h e n the blue bonnets came over the border. LOCH-NA-GARR. AWAY, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses, In you let the minions of luxury r o v e ; Restore me the rocks w h e r e the snow-flake reposes, If still they are sacred to ireedom and love. Y e s , Caledonia, dear are thy m o u n t a i n s , R o u n d their white summits tho ? elements war, The* cataracts foam 'stead of smooth Sowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of daik Loch«na-garr. A h 1 there my voung footsteps in infancy w a n der'd; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid; O n chieftains departed my memory ponder'd, As daily I strayM through the pine covered glade, I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star j �6 For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story* Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch-na^garr. Shades of the dead ! have I not heaid your voices R i s e on the night-rolling breath of the gale ! S u r e l y the soul of the hero rejoices, A n d rides on the w i n d , o'er his o w n Highland dale. R o u n d Loch-na-garr, while the stormy mist gathers, W i n t e r presides in his cold icy c a r ; Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers. T h e y dwell *mid the tempests of dark L o c h - n a garr. T H E LASS Q' GOWRIE* ' T w a s on a simmer's afternoon, A wee before the sua gaecl down, M y lassie wi* a braw n e w gown, Came o'er the hill to G o w r i e . T h e rosebud, tinged wi* morning showers, Bloom'd fresh within the sunny bower?, B u t Kitty was the fairest flower T h a t ever bloom* d in G o w r i e . I had nae t h o u g h t to do her wrang, But round her waist my arms I flang, A n d said, 6 M y lassie, will ye gang T o view the Carse o* G o w r i e ? �7 FM take ye to m y father's h a ' , I n yon green field beside the shaw, A n d make you lady o' them a', T h e bra west wife in C o w r i e / Saft kisses on her lips I laid, T h e blush upon her cheek soon s p r e a d ; She whisper'd modestly, and said, « Fll gang wi* you to C o w r i e . " T h e auld folk soon gied their consent, A n d to Mess J o h n we quickly w e n t , W h a tied us to our heart's content, A n d now she's-Lady C o w r i e . . SWEIT JENNY, THE MAID MOOR. OF THE THE lasses of Scotland a r e bonnie and free -.; T h e maidens of Erin are f a i r ; "Die sweet girls of Britain are lovely to see— And let them deny it who dare ; But the fairest of lasses that all those surpasses, Is Jenny, the maid of the moor. S w e e t Jenny, dear Jenny, Sweet Jenny, t h e maid of the moor. T h e lasses of Scotland are tender and t r u e ; The maidens of Erin are k i n d ; T h e sweet girls of Britain can monarchs subdue! A n d lovely in person and mind': �s Yet the. fairest of lasses, that all those surpasses, i s Jenny, the maid of the moor. Sweet Jenny, dear Jenny, Sweet Jenny, the maid of the moor. T h e lasses of Scotland are fam'd far and near; T h e maidens of Erin breathe love; T h e sweet girls of Britain to Britons are dear, And soft as the down on the dove ; Still the fairest of lasses, that alJ those surpasses, Is Jenny, the maid of the moor. Sweet Jenny, dear Jenny, Sweet Jenny, the maid of the moor. CEASE Y O U R FUNNING. Cease your funning, force or cunning Never shall my heart trepan; AH these sallies are but malice, T o seduce my constant man. *Tis most certain, by their flirting, W o m e n oft have envy shown ; Pieas'd to ruin other's wooing, Never happy in their o w n , KILMARNOCK; Printed jor the Booksellers. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/63d3c95711b9c804c59fc2c68772aac6.jpg b6c52a45ee1eaa31b81a59d15b01e75f Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 4176 Width 2520 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 Fashionable Songs. The Death of Nelson. "Tis the Last Rose of Summer. The bonnie wee Rosebud. Blue Bonnets over the Border. Loch-na-Garr. The Lass o 'Gowrie. Jenn, the Maid of the Moor. Cease you Funning. 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 Death of Nelson. "Tis the Last Rose of Summer. The bonnie wee Rosebud. Blue Bonnets over the Border. Loch-na-Garr. The Lass o 'Gowrie. Jenn, the Maid of the Moor. Cease you Funning. 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 Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #36 in a bound collection of 40 chapbooks Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Chapbooks--Scotland--Kilmarnock 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&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> 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 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 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs # of Woodcuts: 0 Chapbook Date: 1811-1820 Chapbook Date: 1821-1830 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Kilmarnock: Printed for the Booksellers