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“ Life of Dr. Johnson" has conferred a peculiar immortality upon his name. He was unfortunately killed in 1822, by Mr. James Stuart of Dunearn, in a duel arising out of a literary squabble in the “ Sentinel," a Glasgow newspaper, to which Sir Alexander had contributed a “ Whig song, supposed to be written by one of the Jameses, certainly not by King James the First or King James the Fifth, but probably by one of the house of Stuart.” The song was very scurrilous, and reflected on the honour of Mr. Stuart. In after-life Mr. Stuart became editor of the London • Courier,” and an Inspector of Mills and Factories.

JENNY'S BAWBIE.

Oldest version, upon which the preceding was founded by SIR ALEXANDER BOSWELL.

An' a' that e'er my Jenny had,
My Jenny had, my Jenny had,
An'a' that e'er my Jenny had,

Was ae bawbie.

There's your plack and my plack,
An' your plack an' my plack,
An' my plack an' your plack,

And Jenny's bawbie.

We'll put it a' in the pint-stoup,
The pint-stoup, the pint-stoup,
We'll put it in the pint-stoup,

And boile it a' three.

JENNY DANG THE WEAVER.

SIR A. BOSWELL, Bart.

Ar Willie's wedding an the green,

The lassies, bonnie witches,
Were a' dressed out in aprons clean,

And braw white Sunday mutches :
Auld Maggie bad the lads tak’tent,

But Jock would not believe her;
But soon the fool his folly kent,

For Jenny dang the weaver.

And Jenny dang, Jenny dang,

Jenny dang the weaver;
But soon the fool his folly kent,

For Jenny dang the weaver.

At ilka country-dance or reel

Wi' her he would be babbing ; When she sat down, he sat down,

And to her would be gabbing : Where'er she gaed, baith but and ben,

The coof would never leave her,
Aye kecklin' like a clacking hen;
But Jenny dang the weaver.
Jenny dang, Jenny dang,

Jenny dang the weaver;
But soon the fool his folly kent,

For Jenny dang the weaver.

Quo' he, My lass, to speak my mind

In troth I needna swither :
You've bonnie een ; and if you're kind,

I'll never seek anither.
He humm’d and haw'd; the lass cried, Peugh!

And bade the coof no deave her ;
Syne snapt her fingers, lap and leugh,
And dang the silly weaver.
And Jenny dang, Jenny dang,

Jenny dang the weaver ;
But soon the fool his folly kent,

For Jenny dang the weaver.

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ANONYMOUS. Air-" There's cauld kail in Aberdeen."

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Johnny Smith has got a wife

Wha scrimps him o' his cogie ;
But were she mine, upon my life
I'd dook her in a bogie ;
For I maun hae my cogie, sirs,

I canna want my cogie;
I wadna gi'e my

three-gir'd cog
For a' the wives in Bogie.

Twa three todlin' weans they hae,

The pride o' a' Stra’bogie ;
Whene'er the totums cry for meat,
She curses aye his cogie,
Crying, "Wae betide the three-gir'd cog!

Oh, wae betide the cogie !
It does mair skaith than a' the ills

That happen in Stra’bogie.”

She fand him ance at Willie Sharpe's ;

And, what the maist did laugh at,
She brak the bicker, spilt the drink,
And tightly gouff'd his haffet,
Crying, "Wae betide the three-gir'd cog!

Oh, wae betide the cogie !
It does mair skaith than a' the ills

That happen in Stra’bogie.”

Yet here's to ilka honest soul

Wha'll drink wi' me a cogie ;
And for ilk silly whinging fool,
We'll dook him in the Bogie.
For I maun hae my cogie, sirs,

I canna want my cogie ;
I wadna gie my three-gir'd cog

For a' the wives in Bogie.

This song was popular in Aberdeenshire in the middle of the eighteenth century. There are at least half-a-dozen Scottish songs parodies upon, or emendations of, this. One, by Alexander fourth Duke of Gordon, appears among the Miscellaneous Songs in this volume; and a second was printed in Herd's Collection.

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The wind's drifting hail and sna’
O’er frozen hags like a foot-ba’;
Nae starns keek through the azure slit,
'Tis cauld and mirk as ony pit.

The man i' the moon

Is carousing aboon ;
D'ye see, d’ye see, d'ye see him yet?

The man, &c.

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