66

Gied three skips on the floor:

Gudeman, ye've spoken the foremost word,—
Get
up and bar the door."

UNIVE

This song was first printed by David Herd, who wrote it down from a traditionary version. It is generally sung with the following lines as a chorus:

"Oh, the barring of our door,

Weel, weel, weel;

And the barring of our door, weel."

THE DUSTY MILLER,

From "Johnson's Museum," 1782.

HEY, the dusty miller
And his dusty coat;
He will win a shilling

Ere he spend a groat,
Dusty was the coat,
Dusty was the colour;
Dusty was the kiss

That I gat frae the miller.

Hey, the dusty miller,
And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty pack,—
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller
I wad gi'e my coatie
For the dusty miller.

FAIRLY SHOT OF HER.

From "Johnson's Museum "

OH, gin I were fairly shot o' her,
Fairly, fairiy, fairly shot o' her!
Oh, gin I were fairly shot o' her!

If she were dead, I wad dance on the top o' her.

Till we were married I couldna see licht till her;
For a month after a' thing aye gaed richt wi' her;
But these ten years I hae pray'd for a wright to her-
Oh. gin I were fairly shot o' her!

Nane o' her relations or friends could stay wi' her;
The neebours and bairns are a' fain to flee frae her;
And I my ain sel' am forced to gi'e way till her—
Oh, gin I were fairly shot o' her!

She gangs' aye sae braw, she's sae muckle pride in her;
There's no a gudewife in the haill country-side like till her ;
Wi' dress and wi' drink, the deil wadna bide wi' her-
Oh, gin I were fairly shot o' her!

If the time were but come that to the kirk-gate wi' her,
And into the yird I'd mak' mysel' quit o' her,

I'd then be as bly the as first when I met wi' her-
Oh, gin I were fairly shot o' her!

This is a modern version of an old song, and is said to have been written by one John Anderson, at that time apprentice to Johnson the engraver, and publisher of the "Museum," where the song first appeared.

MAGGIE LAUDER.

WHA wadna be in love

Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder?

A piper met her gaun to Fife,

And speir'd what was't they ca'd her.

Right scornfully she answer'd him,

Begone, you hallanshaker!

Jog on your gate, you bladderskate!
My name is Maggie Lauder.

Maggie, quo' he, and by my bags,
I'm fidgin' fain to see thee;
Sit down by me, my bonnie bird,
In troth I winna steer thee;
For I'm a piper to my trade,

My name is Rob the Ranter;
The lasses loup as they were daft
When I blaw up my chanter.

Piper, quo' Meg, hae ye your bags,
Or is your drone in order?
If ye be Rob, I've heard of you,—
Live you upo' the Border?

The lasses a', baith far and near,

Hae heard o' Rob the Ranter;
I'll shake my foot with right gude will,
Gif you'll blaw up your chanter.

Then to his bags he flew wi' speed,
About the drone he twisted;
Meg up and wallop'd o'er the green,
For brawly could she frisk it.
Weel done! quo' he-Play up! quo' she;

Weel bobb'd! quo' Rob the Ranter;
'Tis worth my while to play indeed
When I hae sic a dancer.

Weel hae you play'd your part, quo' Meg;
Your cheeks are like the crimson;
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel
Since we lost Habbie Simpson.

I've lived in Fife, baith maid and wife,
These ten years and a quarter;

Gin'

should come to Anster fair, Speir ye for Maggie Lauder.

"This old song," says Burns, " so pregnant with Scottish naiveté and energy, is much relished by all ranks. Its language is a precious model of imitation.-sly, sprightly, and forcibly expressive. Maggie's tongue wags out the nick-names of Rob the piper with all the careless lightsomeness of unrestrained gaiety."

KISSING'S NO SIN.

ANONYMOUS. Seventeenth or eighteenth century.

SOME say that kissing's a sin;

But I think it's nane ava,

For kissing has wonn'd in this warld

Since ever that there was twa.

Oh, if it wasna lawfu',

Lawyers wadna allow it;

If it wasna holy,

Ministers wadna do it.

If it wasna modest,

Maidens wadna tak' it;

If it wasna plenty,

Puir folk wadna get it.

We are indebted to Mr. Robert Chambers for the preservation of this characteristic fragment. It was recovered by him from the singing of a friend, and first printed in 1829 in his "Historical Essay on Scottish Song."

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin' grey and a' that;

Gi'e fools their silks, an' knaves their wine,

A man's a man for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

Their tinsel show and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,

Wha struts and stares and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that.

For a' that and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that;
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.