The Canongate Burns (58 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
Tune: Whistle o'er the Lave o't
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
First when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married â spier nae mair â
inquire no more
       But whistle o'er the lave o't. â
rest
5
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Sweet and harmless as a child â
Wiser men than me's beguiled;
        Whistle o'er the lave o't. â
rest
How we live, my Meg and me,
10
How we love and how we gree;
agree
I care na by how few may see,
not
        Whistle o'er the lave o't. â
Wha I wish were maggots' meat,
who
Dish'd up in her winding-sheet;
15
I could write â but Meg wad see't â
would
        Whistle o'er the lave o't. â
These are Burns's new lyrics adapted considerably from a bawdy song in the David Herd collection (1769). On the evidence of several of Burns's songs, feminine submission was not, to say the least, implicit in the eighteenth century matrimonial state.
Tune: My Love is Lost to Me
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
O were I on Parnassus hill;
       Or had o' Helicon my fill;
That I might catch poetic skill,
       To sing how dear I love thee.
5
But Nith maun be my Muses' well,
must
       My Muse maun be thy bonie sell,
must, self
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell,
glower
       And write how dear I love thee.
Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
10
       For a' the lee-lang simmer's day,
live-long summer
I couldna sing, I couldna say,
could not,
       How much, how dear, I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green,
       Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,
so neat, so shapely
15
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een â
eyes
       By Heaven and Earth I love thee!
By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
in a field
       The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame;
And ay I muse and sing thy name,
20
       I only live to love thee.
Tho' I were doom'd to wander on,
       Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
Till my last, weary sand was run;
       Till then â and then I love thee.
This song, as
The Vision
, has its inspiring domestic Muse in Jean Armour. It is different, however, from that long poem and uncharacteristic of Burns, in that his native landscape is felt as inadequate compared to that of the classical world. Helicon, the Greek river of inspirational water, neatly plays off against Corsicon, a hill viewable from Ellisland.
Tune: Neil Gow's Lament for his Brother
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
There's a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from our lasses should wander awa';
For he 's bony and braw, weel-favor'd witha',
handsome, well-
An' his hair has a natural buckle an' a'. â
curl
5
His coat is the hue o' his bonnet sae blue;
so
His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw;
woollen waistcoat
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae;
blue, shoes, sloe
And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'.
silver
For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin;
10
Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted, an' braw;
(see notes)
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her;
money, makes, go
The Pennie 's the jewel that beautifies a'. â
There 's Meg wi' the mailen that fain wad a haen him;
farm, gladly would
And Susie whase daddie was laird of the Ha',
whose, Hall
15
There 's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy â
long-, most
But th' laddie's dear sel he loes dearest of a'. â
self, loves
Â
Burns indicates in the Interleaved S.M.M. that the first âhalf- stanza' is traditional and the remainder his own. He also states that the tune is by the famous fiddler Neil Gow. The explanation of the Scots hyperbole in l. 10 is too lengthy to be set in the right margin and is translated as follows: our hero is well endowed, rides a good horse, has money and is handsome, but, for all his show, as the final line suggests, he loves himself a little too much.
Tune: Failte na miosg
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North;
The birthplace of Valour, the country of Worth:
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. âÂ
Chorus
5
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. â
Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
10
Farewell to the Straths and green valleys below:
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. â
My heart's in the Highlands, &c.
The chorus of this song is taken from a broadside called
The Strong
Walls of Derry
which narrates the forlorn love of a Highlander emigrating to Ireland to find his true love has married another. The remainder of the lyric is by Burns.
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
John Anderson my jo, John,
darling/love
        When we were first acquent;
acquainted
Your locks were like the raven,
        Your bonie brow was brent;
unwrinkled
5
But now your brow is beld, John,
bald
        Your locks are like the snaw;
snow/white
But blessings on your frosty pow,
white head
        John Anderson my Jo.
darling
John Anderson my jo, John,
10
        We clamb the hill thegither;
climbed, together
And mony a cantie day, John,
happy
        We've had wi' ane anither:
one another
Now we maun totter down, John,
shall
        And hand in hand we'll go;
15
And sleep thegither at the foot,
together
        John Anderson my Jo.Â
This is surely Burns's best example of cleaning up an old bawdy song to create a soothing lyric about love in old age, sung in the feminine voice. A version of the original bawdy work is in the poet's M.M.C. collection.
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
thistles
       And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam like a frost in June,
came
       An' wither'd a' our posies.
Chorus
5
Awa' Whigs awa',
       Awa' Whigs awa',
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
rogues
       Ye'll do nae guid at a'.
no good
Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust;
fallen
10
       Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't,
devil, dust
An' write their names in his black beuk
book
       Wha gae the Whigs the power o't!
who gave
              Awa' Whigs awa', &c.
Our sad decay in church and state
       Surpasses my descriving:.
describing
15
The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse,
came
       And we hae done wi' thriving.
have
              Awa' Whigs awa', &c.
Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
long, taken
   But we may see him waukin:
awaken
Gude help the day when Royal heads
God
20
   Are hunted like a maukin.
hare
            Awa', Whigs, awa', &c.
This is adapted from a song in Herd's collection (See Kinsley, no. 303, Vol. III, p. 1336) where Burns lifts the chorus. Wallace suggests that only verses two and four are from Burns, but three sounds like him also. It is a stereotypical Jacobite protest song which, as Donaldson remarks (p. 80), âcould have been written at almost any point in the eighteenth century'.
[First version]
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
As I gaed down the water-side
went
There I met my Shepherd-lad,
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
wrapped
        And he ca'd me his Dearie. â
called
Chorus
5
Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
call, ewes, hillocks
Ca' them whare the heather grows,
call, where
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
stream runs/flows
        My bonie Dearie. â
Will ye gang down the water-side
go
10
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
so
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
        The moon it shines fu' clearly. â
                Ca' the yowes, &c.
I was bred up at nae sic school,
no such
My Shepherd-lad, to play the fool;
15
An' a' the day to sit in dool,
sorrow
An' naebody to see me. â
nobody
    Ca' the yowes, &c.
Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,
shall
Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,
shoes
And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,
20
An' ye sall be my Dearie. â
shall
        Ca' the yowes, &c.
If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
I'se gang wi' you, my Shepherd-lad,
go
And ye may row me in your plaid,
wrap
And I sall be your Dearie.
        Ca' the yowes, &c.
25
While waters wimple to the sea;
meander
While Day blinks in the lift sae hie;
sky so high
Till clay-cauld Death sall blin' my e'e,
-cold, shall, eye
       Ye sall be my Dearie. â
shall
               Ca' the yowes, &c.
This is the poet's first version of this duet, adapted from a traditional work. He wrote to Thomson retrospectively in September 1794: âWhen I gave it to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song and mended others, but still it will not do for
you'
(Letter 636). Stanzas four and five are old. Stanza three is missing in the Mackay version (p. 299). The later version (printed in Posthumous Works), interweaves the local, Lincluden scenery.
Tune: Lord Breadalbine's March
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
O merry hae I been teethin a heckle,
have, flax-dresser's comb
       An' merry hae I been shapin a spoon:
have
O merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,
have, mending
       An' kissin my Katie when a' was done.
5
O, a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
long, knock
       An' a' the lang day I whistle an' sing;
long
O, a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
long, mistress
       An' a' the lang night as happy's a king.
long
Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins
sorrow, made the best
10
       O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave:
give
Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens,
shroud
       And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave!
Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,
       An' come to my arms, and kiss me again!
15
Drucken or sober, here's to thee, Katie!
drunken
       And blest be the day I did it again.
This is another adaption by Burns from an old song with the man ecstatically re-energised by replacing the loathed, deceased Bess with the beloved Katy. The phrase âteethin a heckle' refers to putting teeth into a flax-dresser's comb.
