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The original song upon which Burns founded his version is attributed to Isabell or Tibbie Pagan, who died in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk, Ayrshire, in 1821, aged eighty. Some account of her appears in the "Ayrshire Contemporaries of Burns," Edinburgh, 1840. The following version is the original, as revised by Burns for "Johnson's Musical Museum." The last verse is by Burns himself.

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GALA WATER.

BURNS.

THERE'S braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
That wander through the blooming heather;
But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws

Can match the lads o' Gala water.

But there is ane, a secret ane,

Abune them a' I lo'e him better;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The bonnie lad o' Gala water.

Although his daddie was nae laird,

And though I hae nae mickle tocher;
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

We'll tent our flocks on Gala water.

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,

Oh, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

The old tune to which this is sung is very beautiful. Its exact date is unknown. Mr. Stenhouse, to whom the public are indebted for many valuable particulars relating to Scottish music, says it was harmonised by Haydn, for Whyte's collection. On the MS. of the music, which he (Mr. Stenhouse) had seen, Haydn expressed his opinion of the melody in the best English he was master of, in the following emphatic sentence: "This one Dr. Haydn favourite song." The words of the old song are lost, with the exception of the following stanzas :—

Braw, braw lads of Gala water,

Braw, braw lads of Gala water;
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,

O'er yon moss amang the heather,

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

MY NANNIE'S AWA.

BURNS. Air-"There'll never be peace until Jamie comes hame."

Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat ower the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me it's delightless—my Nannie's awa.

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw;
They mind me o' Nannie-and Nannie's awa.

Thou laverock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn of the grey-breaking dawn;
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa',
Give over for pity-my Nannie's awa.

Come, Autumn, sae pensive in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay;
The dark dreary winter and wild driving snaw
Alane can delight me—my
Nannie's awa.

The germ of "Nannie's Awa" is to be found in one of Clarinda's letters (see Correspondence, &c., page 185), written thirty-five days after they became acquainted. They were about to part, and she says:-"You'll hardly write me once a month, and other objects will weaken your affection for Clarinda; yet I cannot believe so. Oh! let the scenes of nature remind you of Clarinda! In winter, remember the dark shades of her fate; in summer, the warmth, the cordial warmth of her friendship; in autumn, her glowing wishes to bestow plenty on all; and let spring animate you with hope that your poor friend may yet live to surmount the wintry blast of life, and revive to taste a spring-time of happiness!" This passage, so beautifully descriptive, in the letter of his fair correspondent, was not overlooked by Burns. He says in reply:-" There is one fine passage in your last charming letter-Thomson nor Shenstone never exceeded it, nor often came up to it. I shall certainly steal it, and set it in some future production, and get immortal fame by it. 'Tis where you bid the scenes of nature remind me of Clarinda." The poet was as good as his word. Some months after Clarinda had left this country, Burns, reverting to the passage we have quoted from her letter, made it his own by stamping it in immortal verse, bewailing the absence of Clarinda in a strain of rural imagery that has seldom or never been surpassed."-Cursory Remarks on Scottish Song, by Captain Charles Gray, R.M.

WANDERING WILLIE.

BURNS. Air-"Wandering Willie."

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same.

Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee;
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,—
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the caves o' your slumbers;
How
your dread howlings a lover alarms!
Blow soft, ye breezes, roll gently, ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds not his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou dark heaving main;
May I never see it, may I never trow it;

While dying I think that my Willie's my ain!

This song was altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. George Thomson. Burns, with his usual sound judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others.

MY NANNIE O.

BURNS.

BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows
Mang moors an' mosses many O,
The wintry sun the day has closed,
And I'll awa to Nannie O.

The westlan wind blaws loud an' shrill,
The night's baith mirk and rainy 0;
But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal,
An' ower the hills to Nannie O.

My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye 0;
May ill befa' the flatt'ring tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie O;
The opening gowan wet wi' dew
Nae purer is than Nannie O.

A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me 0;
But what care I how few they be?
I'm welcome aye to Nannie O.

My riches a' 's my penny-fee,
An' I maun guide it cannie O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are o' my Nannie O.

Our auld gudeman delights to view
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie O;
But I'm as blithe that hauds his pleugh,
An' hae nae care but Nannie O.

Come weel, come wae, I care na by,

I'll take what Heaven will sen' me O;

Nae ither care in life have I

But live an' love my Nannie O.

Burns founded this song upon a pre-existing one of a similar title. The name of the river which it celebrated was the Stinchar.

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"In the printed copy of My Nannie O,'" he says, in a letter to Thomson, "the name of the river is horridly prosaic. I will alter it to Behind yon hills where Lugar flows.' Girvan is the name of the river that suits the idea of the stanza best, but Lugar is the most agreeeble modulation of syllables." The heroine of this song, written when the poet was very young, was Agnes Fleming, daughter of a small farmer in the parish of Tarbolton, Ayrshire. Allan Ramsay wrote a song to the same exquisite melody, but it is in no respect equal to the song of Burns. The air is exceedingly beautiful, and is believed to be old. It cannot, however, be traced further back than the "Orpheus Caledonians," 1725.

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