the fault of being somewhat too lengthy, no song-compositions of any modern writer in Scottish verse have, with the exception of those of Burns, maintained a stronger hold of the Scottish heart, or been more commonly sung in the social circle. Mr Skinner's poetical compositions, under the title of "Amusements of Leisure Hours," appeared at Edinburgh in 1809 in a thin duodecimo volume; and in 1859, Mr H. G. Reid published at Peterhead his "Songs and Poems," accompanied with a wellwritten biographical sketch.
COME gie's a sang, Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes all aside;
What signifies 't for folks to chide
For what was done before them?
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Whig and Tory all agree,
To drop their Whig-mig-morum;
Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night wi' mirth and glee,
And cheerful sing alang wi' me
The Reel o' Tullochgorum.
O Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps a spite,
In conscience I abhor him:
For blythe and cheerie we 'll be a',
Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie,
Blythe and cheerie we'll be a',
And mak' a happy quorum;
For blythe and cheerie we 'll be a'
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',
The Reel o' Tullochgorum.
What needs there be sae great a fraise
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays?
I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys
For half a hunder score o' them;
They 're dowf and dowie at the best,
Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie,
Dowf and dowie at the best,
Wi' a' their variorum;
They 're dowf and dowie at the best,
Their allegros and a' the rest,
They canna please a Scottish taste,
Compared wi' Tullochgorum.
Let warldly worms their minds oppress
Wi' fears o' want and double cess,
And sullen sots themsells distress
Wi' keeping up decorum:
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,
Sour and sulky shall we sit,
Like old philosophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
Nor ever try to shake a fit
To th' Reel o' Tullochgorum?
May choicest blessings aye attend
Each honest, open-hearted friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,
And a' that's good watch o'er him;
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
Peace and plenty be his lot,
And dainties a great store o' them:
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by any vicious spot,
And may he never want a groat,
That's fond o' Tullochgorum!
But for the sullen, frumpish fool,
That loves to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
And discontent devour him;
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Ďool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
Dool and sorrow be his chance,
And nane say, Wae's me for him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Wi' a' the ills that come frae France,
Wha e'er he be that winna dance
The Reel o' Tullochgorum.
WHEN first I came to be a man
Of twenty years or so,
I thought myself a handsome youth,
And fain the world would know;
In best attire I stept abroad,
With spirits brisk and gay,
And here and there and everywhere
Was like a morn in May;
No care I had, nor fear of want,
But rambled up and down,
And for a beau I might have past
In country or in town;
I still was pleased where'er I went,
And when I was alone,
I tuned my pipe and pleased myself
Wi' John o' Badenyon.
Now in the days of youthful prime
A mistress I must find,
For love, I heard, gave one an air,
And e'en improved the mind:
On Phillis fair above the rest,
Kind fortune fix'd my eyes,
Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
And she became my choice;
To Cupid now, with hearty prayer,
I offer'd many a vow;
And danced and sung, and sigh'd and swore, As other lovers do;
But, when at last I breathed my flame,
I found her cold as stone;
I left the girl, and tuned my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.
When love had thus my heart beguiled
With foolish hopes and vain;
To friendship's port I steer'd my course,
And laugh'd at lovers' pain;
A friend I got by lucky chance,
'Twas something like divine,
An honest friend's a precious gift,
And such a gift was mine;
And now whatever might betide
A happy man was I,
In any strait I knew to whom
I freely might apply.
A strait soon came: my friend I tried;
He heard, and spurn'd my moan;
I hied me home, and tuned my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.
A thousand various schemes I tried,
And yet was pleased with none;
I threw them by, and tuned my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.
And now, ye youngsters everywhere,
That wish to make a show,
Take heed in time, nor fondly hope
For happiness below;
What you may fancy pleasure here,
Is but an empty name,
And girls, and friends, and books, and so,
You'll find them all the same.
Then be advised, and warning take
From such a man as me;
I'm neither Pope nor Cardinal,
Nor one of high degree;
You'll meet displeasure everywhere;
Then do as I have done,
E'en tune your pipe and please yourselves
With John o' Badenyon.
THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKIT HORN.
WERE I but able to rehearse
My Ewie's praise in proper verse,
I'd sound it forth as loud and fierce
As ever piper's drone could blaw;
The Ewie wi' the crookit horn,
Wha had kent her might hae sworn
Sic a Ewe was never born,
Hereabout nor far awa';
Sic a Ewe was never born,
Hereabout nor far awa'.
I never needed tar nor keil
To mark her upo' hip or heel,
Her crookit horn did as weel
To ken her by amo' them a';
She never threaten'd scab nor rot,
But keepit aye her ain jog-trot,
Baith to the fauld and to the cot,
Was never sweir to lead nor caw; Baith to the fauld and to the cot, etc.
Cauld nor hunger never dang her, Wind nor wet could never wrang her, Anes she lay an ouk and langer
Furth aneath a wreath o' snaw: Whan ither ewies lap the dyke, And eat the kail, for a' the tyke, My Ewie never play'd the like,
But tyc'd about the barn wa'; My Ewie never play'd the like, etc.
A better or a thriftier beast
Nae honest man could weel hae wist,
For, silly thing, she never mist
To hae ilk year a lamb or twa':
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