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Yet, oh, gin Heaven in mercy soon
Would grant the boon I crave,
And take this life, now naething worth,
Sin' Jamie's in his grave!

And see, his gentle spirit comes,

To shew me on my way;

Surprised, nae doubt, I still am here,
Sair wondering at my stay.

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This excellent song is erroneously stated in the notes to the collection of melodies published in Glasgow in 1841, under the title of "The Garland of Scotia," to be the production of one Jeanie Ferguson.

AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE.

SUSANNA BLAMIRE. From the "Musical Museum," 1790.
Air-" The siller crown."

AND ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller hae to spare,

Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh, wha wad buy a silken goun
Wi' a puir broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller crown,
Gin frae my love I part?

The mind whase every wish is pure

Far dearer is to me;

And e'er I'm forced to break my faith,

I'll lay me down and dee:

For I hae pledged my virgin troth
Brave Donald's fate to share,
And he has gi'en to me his heart,
Wi' a' its virtues rare.

His gentle manners wan my heart,
He gratefu' took the gift;
Could I but think to see it back,
It wad be waur than theft.
For langest life can ne'er repay
The love he bears to me;

And e'er I'm forced to break my troth,
I'll lay me down and dee.

I WINNA GANG BACK.

RICHARD GALL, born 1776, died 1801.

I WINNA gang back to my mammy again,
I'll never gae back to my mammy again;
I've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,
But I'll never gang back to my mammy again.
I've held by her apron, &c.

Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo,
Wi' plaidie sae bonnie an' bonnet sae blue:
"Oh, come awa', lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;"
An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen.
Oh, come awa lassie, &c.

He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his dow,
An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o' my mou'
While I fell on his bosom, heart-flichter'd an' fain,
An' sigh'd out, "O Johnnie, I'll aye be your ain!”
While I fell on his bosom, &c.

Some lasses will talk to the lads wi' their ee,
Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree;
Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stappin'-stane,
Sae I'll never gang back to my mammy again.
Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c.

For mony lang year sin' I play'd on the lea,
My mammy was kind as a mither could be;
I've held by her apron these aught years and ten,
But I'll never gang back to my mammy again.
I've held by her apron, &c.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

RICHARD GALL.

SCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

Bonnie Doon, sae sweet at gloamin',
Fare thee weel before I gang;
Bonnie Doon, whare, early roaming,
First I weaved the rustic sang.

Bowers, adieu! whare love decoying
First enthrall'd this heart o' mine;
There the saftest sweets enjoying,

Sweets that memory ne'er shall tine.
Friends, sae near my bosom ever,

Ye hae render'd moments dear;
But, alas, when forced to sever,
Then the stroke, oh, how severe !

Friends, that parting tear, reserve it,
Though 'tis doubly dear to me;
Could I think I did deserve it,
How much happier would I be!

Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,

Now a sad and last adieu!

The following particulars regarding this song are given by Mr. Starke in the life of the author in the "Biographica Scotica," Edinburgh, 1805: "One of Mr. Gall's songs in particular, the original manuscript of which I have by me, has acquired a high degree of praise, from its having been printed among the works of Burns, and generally thought the production of that poet. The reverse, indeed, was only known to a few of Mr. Gall's friends, to whom he communicated the verses before they were published. The fame of Burns stands in no need of the aid of others to support it; and to render back the song in question to its true author, is but an act of distributive justice due alike to both these departed poets, whose ears are now equally insensible to the incense of flattery or the slanders of malevolence. At the time when the 'Scots Musical Museum' was published at Edinburgh by Mr. Johnson, several of Burns's songs made their appearance in that publication. Mr. Gall wrote the song entitled 'A Farewell to Ayrshire,' prefixed Burns's name to it, and sent it anonymously to the publisher of that work. From thence it has been copied into the later editions of the works of Burns. In publishing the song in this manner, Mr. Gall probably thought that it might, under the sanction of a name known to the world, acquire some notice, while in other circumstances its fate might have been 'to waste its sweetness on the desert air.'" Neither Mr. Gall nor his biographer seem to have reflected upon the dishonesty of the proceeding towards the public, and of the gross unfairness towards the greater poet, whose name was used.

LOGAN BRAES.

JOHN MAYNE,* author of the "Siller Gun." First printed in the "Star"
newspaper, 1789. Air-"Logan water.'

"By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep,
Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep-
Herded sheep, or gather'd slaes,

Wi' my dear lad on Logan braes.

But wae's my heart! thae days are gane,

And I wi' grief may herd alane;

While my dear lad maun face his faes

Far, far frae me an' Logan braes.

Nae mair at Logan kirk will he
Atween the preachings meet wi' me-
Meet wi' me, or when its mirk
Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk.

John Mayne, formerly editor of the "Star" newspaper, died in the year 1836.

I weel may sing thae days are gane-
Frae kirk an' fair I come alane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes
Far, far frae me an' Logan braes.

At e’en, when hope amaist is gane,
I dauner out, or sit alane-
Sit alane beneath the tree

Where aft he kept his tryst wi' me.
Oh, could I see thae days again,
My lover skaithless an' my ain!
Beloved by frien's, rever'd by faes,
We'd live in bliss on Logan braes."

While for her love she thus did sigh,
She saw a sodger passing by—
Passing by wi' scarlet claes,

While sair she grat on Logan braes.
Says he, "What gars thee greet sae sair,
What fills thy heart sae fu' o' care?
Thae sporting lambs hae blythesome days,
An' playfu' skip on Logan braes."

"What can I do but weep and mourn?
I fear my lad will ne'er return—
Ne'er return to ease my waes,

Will ne'er come hame to Logan braes."
Wi' that he clasp'd her in his arms,
And said, "I'm free from war's alarms;
I now hae conquer'd a' my faes,—
We'll happy live on Logan braes."

Then straight to Logan kirk they went,
And join'd their hands wi' one consent-
Wi' one consent to end their days,
An' live in bliss on Logan braes.

An' now she sings, "Thae days are gane,
When I wi' grief did herd alane,
While my dear lad did fight his faes
Far, far frae me an' Logan braes."

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