IT fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was than, When our gudewife got puddings to mak', The wind sae cauld blew east and north, It blew into the floor : Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, "Gae out and bar the door." "My hand is in my hussy'f skap, Gudeman, as ye may see; An' it shou'd nae be barr'd this hundred year, They made a paction 'tween them twa, That the first word whae'er shou'd speak Then by there came twa gentlemen At twelve o'clock at night, And they could neither see house nor hall, Now whether is this a rich man's house, But never a word wad ane o' them speak, And first they ate the white puddings, Though muckle thought the gudewife to hersel', Then said the one unto the other, "But there's nae water in the house, Oh, up then started our gudeman, Then up and started our gudewife, 'Gudeman, ye've spoken the foremost word,— Get up and bar the door." 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." OH, AN YE WERE DEID, GUDEMAN. From Herd's Collection, 1776. Он, an ye were deid, gudeman, And a green turf on your heid, gudeman, There's sax eggs in the pan, gudeman, There's beef into the pot, gudeman, There's sax horse in the sta', gudeman, There's sax kye in the byre, gudeman, There's ane o' them yours, but there's twa o' them mine, THE DUSTY MILLER. From "Johnson's Museum," 1782. HEY, the dusty miller, And his dusty coat; Ere he spend a groat. Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour; That I gat frae the miller. Hey, the dusty miller, FAIRLY SHOT OF HER. From" Johnson's Museum." Оí, 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; Nane o' her relations or friends could stay wi' her; She gangs aye sae braw, she's sae muckle pride in her; If the time were but come that to the kirk-gate wi' her, I'd then be as blythe 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. WHA wadna be in love Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder? A piper met her gaun to Fife, And speir'd what wast they ca'd her. Maggie, quo' he, and by my bags, My name is Rob the Ranter; Piper, quo' Meg, hae ye your bags, |