The Canongate Burns (137 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
Tune: The Rashes
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet,
so
      As the mirk night o' December;
dark
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
      And private was the chamber:
5
And dear was she, I dare na name,
not
      But I will ay remember.â
always
And here's to them, that, like oursel,
      Can push about the jorum;
punch bowl
And here's to them that wish us weel,
well
10
      May a' that's guid watch o'er 'em:
all, good
And here's to them we dare na tell,
not
      The dearest o' the quorum.â
This was signed âB' in the S.M.M. Henley and Henderson suggest that this commemorates the poet's parting with Clarinda (Mrs Agnes McLehose) on 6th December, 1791. This is conjecture. Kinsley states, quite accurately, that it is âa blend of love and conviviality in his finest lyric style' (Vol. III, p. 1510).
â
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
AS I came o'er the Cairney mount,
      And down among the blooming heather,
Kindly stood the milkin-shiel
-shed
      To shelter frae the stormy weather.â
from
Chorus
5
O my bonie Highland lad,
      My winsome, weelfar'd Highland laddie;
well-favoured
Wha wad mind the wind and rain,
who would
      Sae weel row'd in his tartan plaidie.â
so well rolled
Now Phebus blinkit on the bent,
the sun, shone, hillock
10
      And o'er the knowes the lambs were bleating:
grassy mounds
But he wan my heart's consent,
won
      To be his ain at the neist meeting. â
own, next
            O my bonie &c.
This was signed âZ' in the S.M.M., suggesting that Johnson knew Burns adapted the lyric from an old (bawdy) song.
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
She
THE bonniest lad that e'er I saw,
      Bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
Wore a plaid and was fu' braw,
handsome
5
      Bonie Highland laddie.
On his head a bonnet blue,
      Bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
His royal heart was firm and true,
      Bonie Highland laddie.
10
He
Trumpets sound and cannons roar,
      Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie,
lowland
And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
      Bonie Lawland lassie.
15
Glory, Honour now invite,
      Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie,
For freedom and my King to fight
      Bonie Lawland lassie.
She
20
The sun a backward course shall take,
      Bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
Ere ought thy manly courage shake;
ought
      Bonie Highland laddie.
Go, for yoursel procure renown,
25
      Bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
And for your lawful King his crown,
      Bonie Highland laddie.
This is unsigned in the S.M.M. The original, adapted by Burns, is a song called
The Highland Lad and Highland Lass
, set in 1745, but found in a collection of Jacobite songs
A Collection of Loyal Songs
(1750). It was reprinted in
The True Loyalist
(1779). Along with minor changes, the first stanza is from Burns.
Tune: Ye're Welcome Charlie Stewart
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
THE flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's,
blows, falls
      And art can ne'er renew it;
But Worth and Truth eternal youth
      Will gie to Polly Stewart. â
give
Chorus
5
O lovely Polly Stewart!
      O charming Polly Stewart!
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May
      That's half so fair as thou art. â
May he, whase arms shall fauld thy charms,
whose, enfold
10
      Possess a leal and true heart!
loyal
To him be given, to ken the Heaven
know
      He grasps in Polly Stewart!
            O lovely &c.
Johnson has marked this song, âWritten for this Work by Robert Burns' in the S.M.M. Polly (Mary) Stewart was the daughter of William Stewart, the factor at Closeburn estate and also subject of the song
You're Welcome Willie Stewart
.
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
HEE-balou, my sweet, wee Donald,
lullaby
Picture o' the great Clanronald;
Brawlie kens our wanton Chief
finely knows
Wha gat my young Highland thief. â
who got
5
Leeze me on thy bonie craigie,
blessings, neck
An thou live, thou'll steal a naigie,
horse
Travel the country thro' and thro',
And bring hame a Carlisle cow. â
home
Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border,
lowlands
10
Weel, my babie, may thou furder:
well, further
Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie,
harry, fools, low
Syne to the Highlands hame to me. â
then, home
Previous editors are probably correct that this is a versification of a nursery song. The original, though, has not been traced. The Gaelic song
Cagaran Gaolach
is mentioned and quoted in Kinsley (Vol. III, p. 1512) as a modern example but Mackay errs (p. 588) in asserting it is the source of this song. It has no relationship to the work by Burns.
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
sad, eye
Lang, lang joy's been a stranger to me;
long
Forsaken and friendless my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear. â
Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I lov'd;
have
Love thou has sorrows, and sair hae I prov'd:
sore have
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest. â
O, if I were, where happy I hae been;
have
Down by yon stream and yon bonie castle-green:
For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis' e'e. â
who would, from, eye
This was unsigned in the S.M.M. It is based on an old ballad and shows signs of being reworked by Burns. A holograph exists and a second was supposedly seen by Scott Douglas in 1877.
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
Although my back be at the wa',
wall
       And tho' he be the fautor,
at fault
Altho' my back be at the wa',
       Yet here's his health in water. â
5
O wae gae by his wanton sides,
sadly go
       Sae brawly 's he could flatter;
so finely
Till for his sake I'm slighted sair,
sore
       And dree the kintra clatter:
suffer, country gossip
But though my back be at the wa',
wall
10
       Yet here's his health in water. â
This fragment was signed âZ' in the S.M.M. It is adapted from the song
On the Birthday of King James VIII
(1709) which features in the collection,
Roxburghe Ballads
.
First printed in Johnson, 1796.
O for my ain king, quo gude Wallace,
own
       The rightful king o' fair Scotland;
Between me and my Sovereign Blude
blood
       I think I see some ill deed sawn.â
sown
5
Wallace out over yon river he lap,
leaped
       And he ha lighted down on yon plain,
has
And he was aware of a gay ladie,
       As she was at the well washing.â
What tydins, what tydins, fair lady, he says,
tidings/news
10
       What tydins hast thou to tell unto me;
What tydins, what tydins, fair lady, he says,
       What tydins hae ye in the South Countrie.â
news have you
Low down in yon wee Ostler house,
       There is fyfteen Englishmen, fifteen
15
And they are seeking for Gude Wallace,
       It's him to take and him to hang.â
There's nocht in my purse, quo gude Wallace,
nothing
       There's nocht, not even a bare pennie;
But I will down to yon wee Ostler house,
20
       Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.â
those
And when he cam to yon wee Ostler house,
       He bad benedicite be there;
good fortune
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
25
Where was ye born, auld crookit Carl,
old bent man
       Where was ye born, in what countrie;
I am a true Scot born and bred,
       And an auld, crookit carl sic as ye see.â
such
I wad gie fyfteen shilling to onie crookit carl,
would give
30
       To onie crookit carl just sic as ye,
If ye will get me gude Wallace,
       For he is the man I wad very fain see.â
would
He hit the proud Captain alang the chafft-blade,
along, jawbone
       That never a bit o' meat he ate mair;
more
35
And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat
stabbed
       And he left them a' lyin sprawlin there.â
spread
Get up, get up, gudewife, he says,
       And get to me some dinner in haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
long
40
       Sin I a bit o' meat did taste.â
since
The dinner was na weel readie,
not well ready
       Nor was it on the table set,
Till another fyfteen Englishmen
       Were a' lighted about the yett.â
gate
45
Come out, come out now, gude Wallace,
       This is the day that thou maun die;
shall
I lippen nae sae little to God, he says,
trust, not so
       Altho' I be but ill wordie.â
unworthy
The gudewife had an auld gudeman,
old husband
50
       By gude Wallace he stiffly stood,
Till ten o' the fyfteen Englishmen
       Before the door lay in their blude.â blood
The other five to the greenwood ran,
       And he hang'd these five upon a grain:
tree-branch
55
And on the morn wi' his merry men a'
       He sat at dine on Lochmaben town.â
This is unsigned in the S.M.M. Kinsley asserts that: âIt is clear Burns collected the ballad from oral tradition, but there is no evidence that he revised it' (Vol. III, p. 1514). This judgement cannot be made with any real certainty and if it was right, Kinsley should have rejected the work from the canon. A chapbook ballad of this song was composed about 1750 which matches a considerable portion of this version. However, there are seven new stanzas in this edition not found in the chapbook version. (It was based on
the William Hamilton abridgement of Blind Harry's epic poetic tale on Sir William Wallace.) This does not automatically mean the new stanzas are by Burns. If Burns did rework the ballad, he may have recorded it from an unknown broadside print, or from someone's singing. It is left in the canon on the basis that he probably did see a broadside version of the song which he may have reworked.
First printed in Barke, 1955.
SHE was cut-luggit, painch-lippit,
ear-torn, pinch-lipped
Steel waimit, stainchet-fittit,
stomach, stanchion-footed
Chanler-chafit, lang-neckit,
wide-jawed, long-necked
      Yet the brute did die.â
Chorus
5
The auld man's mare' dead,
old
The poor man's mare's dead,
The auld man's mare's dead.
      A mile aboon Dundee.â
above
Her lunzie-banes were knaggs and neuks,
haunch-bones, knots, corners
10
She had the cleeks, the cauld, the crooks,
cramps, cold, bent neck
The jawpish and the wanton yeuks,
urinary disease, itch
       And the howks boon her e'e.â
eye growth, above, eye
             The auld man's &c.
My Master rade me to the town,
rode
He ty'd me to a staincher round,
tied, hitching post
15
He took a chappin till himsel,
measure of drink
But fient a drap gae me. â
not a drop gave
The auld man's mare's dead
The poor man's mare's dead,
The peats and tours and a' to lead
20
       And yet the bitch did die. â
This was sent to Johnson for the S.M.M. in the Autumn of 1795, but not printed. Burns referred Johnson to an earlier version in
The
Scots Nightingale
(1779 edition) and the extant holograph shows some changes from this early version. The original was ascribed to a
Peter Birnie of Fife who is supposed to have composed the lyric circa 1710. However,
The Scots Nightingale
gives it as the work of a Mr Watts. A peculiar little poem as it incongruously mixes vernacularly grotesque description with, in the third stanza, the horse's own voice.
