Laddie, lie near me.

This song is by Blacklock.

The Gardener wi' his Paidle.*

This air is the Gardener's March. The title of the

song only is old; the rest is mine.

When rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
Then busy, busy are his hours,

The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

The chrystal waters gently fa';
The merry birds are lovers a';
The scented breezes round him blaw,

The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare;
Then thro' the dews he maun repair,

The gard'ner wi' his paidle.
When day expiring in the west,
The curtain draws of nature's rest;
He flies to her arms he lo'es best.
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

The Day returns, my Bosom burns.

Tune-Seventh of November.

I composed this song out of compliment to one of the happiest and worthiest married couples in the world, Robert Riddel, Esq. of Glenriddel, and his lady. At their fire-side I have enjoyed more pleasant evenings than at all the houses of fashionable people in this

* This is the original of the song that appears in Dr. Currie's ed. vol. iv, p. 103; it is there called Dainty Davie.

Q

country put together; and to their kindness and hospitality I am indebted for many of the happiest hours of my life.

The Gaberlunzie-Man.*

The Gaberlunzie-Man is supposed to commemorate an intrigue of James the Vth. Mr. Callander of Craigforth, published some years ago, an edition of " Christ's Kirk on the Green," and the "Gaberlunzie-Man," with notes critical and historical. James the Vth is said to have been fond of Gosford, in Aberlady Parish, and that it was suspected by his contemporaries, that in his frequent excursions to that part of the country he had other purposes in view besides golfing and archery. Three favorite ladies, Sandilands, Weir, and Oliphant; (one of them resides at Gosford, and the others in the neighbourhood,) were occasionally visited by their royal and gallant admirer, which gave rise to the following satirical advice to his Majesty, from Sir David Lindsay, of the Mount; Lord Lyon.t

Sow not your seed on Sandylands,
Spend not your strength in Weir,
And ride not on an Elephant,
For spoiling o' your gear.

My Bonnie Mary.

This air is Oswald's; the first half-stanza of the song is old, the rest mine.

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
An' fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go,
A service to my bonnie lassie;

* A wallet-man or tinker, who appears to have been formerly a jack of all trades.

Sir David was Lion-King-at-Arms, under James V.,

The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith;
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry;

The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun lea'e my bonnie Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready;
The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it's not the roar o' sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar,
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.*

The Black Eagle.

This song is by Dr. Fordyce, whose merits as a prose writer are well known.

Jamie come try me.

This air is Oswald's; the song mine.

The lazy Mist.

This song is mine.

Johnie Cope.

This satirical song was composed to commemorate General Cope's defeat at Preston Pans, in 1745, when he marched against the Clans.

The air was the tune of an old song, of which I have heard some verses, but now only remember the title, which was

Will ye go to the coals in the morning.

* This song, which Burns here acknowledges to be his own, was first introduced by him in a letter to Mrs. Dunlop, as two old stanzas.

See Letters, vol. ii, p. 188.

I love my Jean.

This air is by Marshal; the song I composed out

of compliment to Mrs. Burns.

N. B. It was during the honey-moon.

Cease, cease my dear Friend to explore.

The song is by Dr. Blacklock; I believe, but am

not quite certain, that the air is his too.

Auld Robin Gray.

Thir air was formerly called, "The Bridegroom greets when the Sun gangs down."

Donald and Flora.

This is one of those fine Gaelic tunes, preserved from time immemorial in the Hebrides; they seem to be the ground-work of many of our finest Scots pastoral tunes. The words of this song were written to commemorate the unfortunate expedition of General Burgoyne in America, in 1777.

were I on Parnassus' Hill.

This air Is Oswald's; the song I made out of compliment to Mrs. Burns.

The Captive Ribband.

This air is called Robie donna Gorach.

There's a Youth in this City.

This air is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it his lament for his brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old; the rest is mine.

There's a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from our lasses should wander awa;
For he 's bonie and braw, weel-favor'd with a',
And his hair has a natural buckle and a'.
His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;

His feckett is white as the new-driven snaw; His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae, And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'. His coat is the hue, &c.

For beauty and fortune the laddie 's been courtin; Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and

braw;

But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her, The pennie 's the jewel that beautifies a'.There 's Meg wi' the mailin, that fain wad a haen

him,

And Susy whase daddy was Laird o' the ha'; There 's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy, -But the laddie's dear sel he lo'es dearest of a'..

My Heart's in the Highlands.

The first half-stanza of this song is old; the rest is mine.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart 's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart 's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewel to the Highlands, farewel to the North,
The birth-place of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever i wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewel to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewel to the straths and green vallies below:
Farewel to the forests and wild hanging woods;
Farewel to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

† Fecket-an under-waistcoat with sleeves.