THE WEARY PUND O' TOW.

Tune-" The weary Pund o' Tow."

I.

THE weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;

I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.
I bought my wife a stane o' lint

As gude as e'er did grow;

And a' that she has made o' that,
Is ae poor pund o' tow.

II.

There sat a bottle in a bole,

Beyont the ingle low,

And

ay she took the tither souk,

To drouk the stowrie tow.

III.

Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,

Gae spin your tap o' tow!

She took the rock, and wi' a knock

She brak it o'er my pow.

IV.

At last her feet-I sang to see't—
Gaed foremost o'er the knowe;
And or I wad anither jad,

I'll wallop in a tow.

The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow!

I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.

Our Scottish ladies are never represented by the poets as unreasonably addicted to thrift: "a pund o' tow” is now a rare matter among the Scottish cottages; the roke has long since been banished from our firesides, and the wheel is about to follow. In another score of years a woman spinning will likely be a matter of wonder among the northern mountains. The idea of this song is old, and, perhaps, some of the words.

This cheerful air was once encumbered with very idle verses; yet they contained the germ of this little lively, lucky song by Burns; here is an old verse :— "I hae a wife o' my awn,

I'll be hadden to naebody;

I hae a pot and a pan,

I'll borrow frae naebody."

He had built his house, committed his seed-corn to the ground, was in the prime, nay the morning of life, and health and hope were on his side: no wonder, therefore, that he broke out into an independent strain. Though he felt that, like Waller, he had but

"Filled his arms with bays,"

when he caught at the shadow of easy independence which the caresses of the nobles of the north had deluded him with yet ever and anon visions of comfort, at least, rose before him, and he indulged in the belief, that though his family was increasing, and the money which arose from his works was melting away, fortune would turn up for him a bright spoke of her inconstant wheel.

O, FOR ANE-AND-TWENTY, TAM!

Tune-" The Moudiewort."

CHORUS.

An O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam,

An hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam, I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang, An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

I.

THEY Snool me sair, and haud me down,
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam!
But three short years will soon wheel roun'-
And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.

II.

A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,

Was left me by my auntie, Tam; At kith or kin I need na spier,

An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.