IV. I sat beside my warpin-wheel, And ay I ca'd it roun'; But every shot and every knock, V. The moon was sinking in the west As my bonnie westlin weaver lad Convoy'd me thro' the glen. VI. But what was said, or what was done, Shame fa' me gin I tell; But, oh! I fear the kintra soon Will ken as weel's mysel. To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids, To the weavers gin ye go; I rede you right gang ne'er at night, "The chorus of this song is old," says Burns in his notes on the Musical Museum; "the rest of it is mine." He might have added, that the lass whom it celebrates belonged to Mauchline; and that one summer evening, when he desired to escort her home from an expedition which she had made with yarn for a web, he found himself anticipated by "A bonnie westlin weaver lad," and wrote the song in consequence. He did not consider it one of his happiest." Here, once for all," he writes, "let me apologize for many silly compositions of mine in this work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; and, in the hurry of other avocations, if I could string a parcel of rhymes together any thing near tolerable, I was fain to let them pass." No one unacquainted with the domestic economy of Scotland can understand some of the allusions in this song. Thrift, in the days of Burns, was not wholly abandoned the wives of our husbandmen spun their wool and flax, and sent the yarn and thread to the weaver to be manufactured into cloth-not for sale, but home consumption. In this way sackcloth for the corn, plaiding for the beds, linen for the body, and broad-cloth and stuffs for daily or even holiday wear, were produced. To purchase cloth for every-day use was, in my youthful days, reckoned extravagant. The heroine of the song was despatched with yarn to the weavers; and the warping alluded to is the act of preparing it for the loom. NANNI E. Tune-" My Nannie, O." I. BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows, II. The westlin wind blaws loud an' shrill; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, An' owre the hills to Nannie, O. III. My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young; May ill befa' the flattering tongue IV. Her face is fair, her heart is true, V. A country lad is my degree, me, O ; An' few there be that ken VI. My riches a' s my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, O; VII. Our auld guidman delights to view VIII. Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, O; Nae ither care in life have I, But live, an' love my Nannie, O. Nannie Fleming, a servant in Calcothill, near Lochlea, was the heroine of this fine song. She died unmarried and well advanced in life, and when questioned about the Poet's attachment said, " Aye, atweel he made a great wark about me."-" Like most of the favourites of Burns," says an observing friend, "she was more remarkable for the symmetry of her limbs than the beauty of her face. She was modest and cheerful, and had a winning manner." Burns says, concerning this song: "As I have been all along a miserable dupe to love, and have been led into a thousand weaknesses and follies by it, for that reason I put more confidence in my critical skill in distinguishing foppery and conceit from real passion and nature. Whether My Nannie, O!' will stand the test I will not pretend to say, because it is my own; only I can say, it was at the time genuine from the heart." This fine air attracted minstrels before the days of Burns. The" Nannie, O!" of Allan Ramsay will be long remembered, both for its singular faults and its great beauties: among the latter may be reckoned this verse— "How joyfully my spirits rise When, dancing, she moves finely, O! I guess what heaven is by her eyes, Older words still linger in the land: they must have been known both to Ramsay and Burns :— "As I came in by Enbro' town, By the side o' the bonny city, O, For aye he cried his Nannie, O! |