Tak' your glass to clear your een, It drives away care; Hae wi' ye, hae wi' ye, and hae wi' ye, lads, yet! Steek the doors, keep out the frost, Till't, lads, and lilt it out, And let us hae a blythsome bowt. Dinna cheat, but drink fair. Huzza, huzza, and huzza, lads, yet! This song is founded upon a very ancient ballad, of which some fragments only exist. UP IN THE MORNING EARLY. From the manuscript collection of Scottish songs by Peter Buchan. Up in the morning, up in the morning, Up in the morning early; Frae night till morn our squires they sat, Up in the morning early, &c. I hae got fou, Beldornie cried; Up in the morning early, &c. Be wyllie, my boys, be wise, my boys, Gin Your pouches will leave aff clinking. We will gae hame, said Lord Aboyne; There they sat the lee-lang night, And gaed hame in the morning early. The "boon companions" named in this song were all Aberdeenshire gentlemen. The Lord Aboyne was afterwards Duke of Gordon, and author of one of the versions of the song of " Cauld kail in Aberdeen." THE ALE-WIFE AND HER BARREL. From the manuscript collection of the songs of the north of Scotland by My mind is vex'd and sair perplex'd, I'll tell you a' that grieves me; A drunken wife I hae at hame, They'll ruin me and deave me. She takes her barrel on her back, Her pint-stoup in her hand, The ale-wife, &c. And whan she does come hame again, She sets her barrel on the ground, Air-" A cogie of yill," composed by Robert Macintosh, who died in London A COGIE O' yill, in 1807. And a pickle aitmeal, And a dainty wee drappie o' whisky, Was our forefathers' dose For to sweel down their brose, And keep them aye cheery and frisky. Then hey for the whisky, and hey for the meal, When I see our Scots lads, Wi' their kilts and cockauds, That sae aften hae lounder'd our foes, man; I think to mysel' On the meal and the yill, And the fruits o' our Scottish kail-brose, man. Then hey, &c. When our brave Highland blades, Wi' their claymores and plaids, In the field drive like sheep a' our foes, man; Their courage and power Spring frae this to be sure, They're the noble effects o' the brose, man. Then hey, &c. But your spindle-shank'd sparks, Your pale-visaged milk-sops and beaux, man; "Twere kindness to gi'e them What John Bull despises, He denies eatin' blanter ava, man; His mare's grown, I'll warrant her, THE DRUCKEN WIFE O' GALLOWAY. From Herd's Collection. Air-" Hooly and fairly." DOUN in yon meadow a couple did tarry : The gudewife she drank naething but sack and canary ; The gudeman complain'd to her friends richt earlyOh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! Hooly and fairly, hooly and fairly, Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! First she drank Crummie, and syne she drank Gairie, And syne she drank my bonny grey marie, That carried me through a' the dubs and the glairie— Oh, gin my wife wad drink hooly and fairly! She drank her hose, she drank her shoon, Wad she drink but her ain things I wadna care, My Sunday's coat, she's laid it in wad, And the best blue bonnet was e'er on my head; My bonny white mittens I wore on my hands, I never was for wranglin' nor strife, When there's ony money she maun keep the purse, A pint wi' her cummers I wad her allow ; When she comes to the street she roars and rants, Has nae fear o' her neibours, nor minds the house-wants; When she comes hame she lays on the lads, |