by Robert Burns
I’ll mak you be fain to follow me.
This is a traditional ballad slightly improved by Burns. It was unsigned in the S.M.M. It first appears as a work of Burns in Barke, 1955.
The White Cockade
First printed in S.M.M., 1790.
My love was born in Aberdeen,
The boniest lad that e’er was seen,
But now he makes our hearts fu’ sad, full
He takes the field wi’ his White Cockade.
Chorus
5 O, he’s a ranting, roving lad,
He is a brisk an’ a bonie lad;
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade.
I’ll sell my rock, my reel, my tow, flaxing gear, fibre
10 My guid gray mare and hawkit cow; good, spotted
To buy mysel a tartan plaid, full body kilt
To follow the boy wi’ the White Cockade.
O he’s a ranting, &c.
This is Burns’s reworked version of a song in Herd’s collection (1769) called The Ranting Roving Lad. It was unsigned in the S.M.M. The white rose (cockade) is the flower and emblem of the Jacobites.
The Campbells are Comin
First printed in S.M.M., Vol. 3, 1790.
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
I looked down to bonie Lochleven,
And saw three bonie perches play — fish
5 The Campbells are comin, Oho, Oho!
The Campbells are comin, Oho, Oho!
The Campbells are comin to Bonie Lochleven,
The Campbells are comin, Oho, Oho!
Great Argyle he goes before,
10 He makes his cannons and guns to roar,
Wi sound o trumpet, pipe and drum
The Campbells are comin, Oho, Oho!
The Campbells they are a’ in arms
Their loyal faith and truth to show,
15 Wi banners rattling in the wind
The Campbells are comin, Oho, Oho!
The poet remarks in the Interleaved Scots Musical Museum that the original lyric was ‘Said to be composed on the imprisonment of Mary Queen of Scots in Lochleven Castle’.
Craigie-burn Wood
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Sweet closes the evening on Craigie-burn Wood,
And blythely awaukens the morrow; awakens
But the pride o’ the spring on the Craigie-burn Wood
Can yield me naught but sorrow. —
Old Chorus
5 Beyond thee, Dearie, beyond thee, Dearie,
And Oh to be lying beyond thee!
O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep, well
That’s laid in the bed beyond thee. —
I see the spreading leaves and flowers,
10 I hear the wild birds singing;
But pleasure they hae nane for me have none
While care my heart is wringing.
I can na tell, I maun na tell, not, shall not
I daur na for your anger: dare not
15 But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer. longer
I see thee gracefu’, straight and tall,
I see thee sweet and bonie;
But Oh, what will my torment be,
20 If thou refuse thy Johnie!
To see thee in another’s arms,
In love to lie and languish:
’Twad be my dead, that will be seen,
My heart wad burst wi’ anguish! would
25 But Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine,
Say thou loes nane before me; loves none
And a’ my days o’ life to come
I’ll gratefully adore thee.
This is the first of two versions of this song, the second, more dense in Scots, was sent to Thomson. The lyric is original but the chorus is old. The heroine is Jean Lorimer (1775–1831) who lived at Kemmishall a few miles south of Ellisland farm and is celebrated in several works of Burns as his ‘Chloris’. Burns wrote to Thomson that ‘you are indebted for many of your best songs of mine … whenever I want to be more than ordinary in song; to be in some degree equal to your diviner airs … I put myself on a regimen of admiring a fine woman; and in proportion to the admirability of her charms, in proportion you are delighted with my verses’ (Letter 644). She was indeed Burns’s Gravesian ‘White Goddess’: ‘she is, in a manner, what Sterne’s Elza was to him – a Mistress, or Friend, or what you will, in the guiltless simplicity of platonic love.’
Frae the Friends and Land I Love
Tune: Carron Side
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Frae the friends and Land I love, from
Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite, deadly
Frae my best Belov’d I rove, from
Never mair to taste delight. — more
5 Never mair maun hope to find more shall
Ease frae toil, relief frae care: from, from
When Remembrance wracks the mind,
Pleasures but unveil Despair.
Brightest climes shall mirk appear, gloomy
10 Desart ilka blooming shore; desert, every
Till the Fates, nae mair severe, no more
Friendship, Love, and Peace restore. —
Till Revenge, wi’ laurell’d head,
Bring our Banish’d hame again; home
15 And ilk loyal, bonie lad each
Cross the seas, and win his ain. — own
Burns claims only the last four lines of this Jacobite song, asserting that the remainder is traditional. Most editors suspect the song is entirely his given that no earlier version has been traced. Although it is not of the same quality as Strathallan’s Lament, it is probably correct that most of the song is his.
O John, Come Kiss Me Now –
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
O some will court and compliment,
And ither some will kiss and daut; other, caress
But I will mak o’ my gudeman, goodman
My ain gudeman, it is nae faute. — own, no fault
Chorus
5 O John, come kiss me now, now, now;
O John, my luve, come kiss me now;
O John, come kiss me by and by,
For weel ye ken the way to woo. — well, know
O some will court and compliment,
10 And ither some will prie their mou, other, kiss, mouth
And some will hause in ithers arms, embrace, other’s
And that’s the way I like to do. —
O John, come kiss &c.
Here Burns has created a version of an old popular song which Kinsley believes is anti-courtly and derived from a fragment preserved in Herd’s collection. (Vol. III, p. 1358)
Cock Up Your Beaver
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
When first my brave Johnie lad came to this town,
He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown,
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver. a hat
Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu’ sprush; full spruce
We’ll over the border and gie them a brush;
There’s somebody there we’ll teach better behaviour,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver.
Wallace believed this to be based on an old work ‘ridiculing Scotsmen who settled in London after the accession of James VI to the throne of England’ (1896, p. 523). Even if this were so, Burns has converted it into a triumphalist assertion of émigré Scotsmen on the make.
My Tocher’s the Jewel
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
O meikle thinks my Luve o’ my beauty, much
And meikle thinks my Luve o’ my kin; much
But little thinks my Luve I ken brawlie, know well
My tocher�
��s the jewel has charms for him. dowry
5 It’s a’ for the apple he’ll nourish the tree;
It’s a’ for the hiney he’ll cherish the bee; honey
My laddie’s sae meikle in luve wi’ the siller, so much, money
He canna hae luve to spare for me. cannot have
Your proffer o’ luve’s an airle-penny, bargain money
10 My tocher’s the bargain ye wad buy; would
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin,
Sae ye wi’ anither your fortune maun try. so, another
Ye’re like to the timmer o’ yon rotten wood, trees
Ye’re like to the bark o’ yon rotten tree,
15 Ye’ll slip frae me like a knotless thread, from
An’ ye’ll crack ye’re credit wi’ mair nor me. more
The second last couplet of the first stanza and the final two of the second are old, the remainder is from Burns. This is another example of the sceptical, tough-minded women’s voices in these songs.
Then Guidwife, Count the Lawin
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Gane is the day and mirk’s the night, gone, gloomy
But we’ll ne’er stray for faute o’ light, fault/lack
For ale and brandy’s stars and moon,
And blude-red wine’s the rysin Sun. blood-, rising
Chorus
5 Then, guidwife, count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin, goodwife, bill
Then guidwife count the lawin, and bring a coggie mair. jug more
There’s wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And semple-folk maun fecht and fen’; simple, must fight
But here we’re a’ in ae accord, one
10 For ilka man that’s drunk ’s a lord. each
Then, guidwife, count the lawin, &c.
My coggie is a haly pool, jug, holy
That heals the wounds o’ care and dool; sorrow
And pleasure is a wanton trout, lurking/ waiting
An ye drink it a’, ye’ll find him out.
Then, guidwife, count the lawin, &c.
The chorus of this is old but the verses are from Burns. The ‘lawin’ refers to the reckoning, or bill, an account to be paid at the end of the night’s drinking – in modern colloquial Scots, the ‘damage’.
The Whistle:
A Ballad
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Burns wrote the following introduction:
As the authentic Prosehistory of the WHISTLE is curious, I shall here give it. – In the train of Anne of Denmark, when she came to Scotland with our James the Sixth, there came also a Danish gentleman of gigantic stature and great prowess, and a matchless champion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony Whistle, which, at the commencement of the orgies, he laid on the table; and whoever was last able to blow it, every body else being disabled by the potency of the bottle, was to carry off the Whistle as a trophy of victory. –The Dane produced credentials of his victories, without a single defeat, at the Courts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Moscow, Warsaw, and several of the petty courts in Germany; and challenged the Scots Bacchanalians to the alternative of trying his prowess, or else of acknowledging their inferiority. – After many overthrows on the part of the Scots, the Dane was encountered by Sir Robert Lowrie of Maxwelton, ancestor to the present worthy baronet of that name; who, after three days and three nights’ hard contest, left the Scandinavian under the table, ‘And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill’.
Sir Walter, son to Sir Robert before mentioned, afterwards lost the Whistle to Walter Riddell of Glenriddell, who had married a sister of Sir Walter’s. – On Friday, the 16th October, 1789, at Friar’s-Carse, the Whistle was once more contended for, as related in the Ballad, by the present Sir Robert Lowrie of Maxwelton; Robert Riddell, Esq. of Glenriddell, lineal descendant and representative of Walter Riddell, who won the Whistle, and in whose family it has continued; and Alexander Ferguson, Esq. of Craigdarroch, likewise descended of the great Sir Robert, which last gentleman carried off the hard-won honours of the field. R.B
I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North,
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
5 Old Loda1, still rueing the arm of Fingal,
The god of the bottle sends down from his hall —
‘This Whistle’s your challenge, to Scotland get o’er,
And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne’er see me more!’
Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell,
10 What champions ventur’d, what champions fell;
The son of great Loda was conqueror still, the gigantic Dane
And blew on the Whistle their requiem shrill.
Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur2,
Unmatch’d at the bottle, unconquered in war,
15 He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea,
No tide of the Baltic e’er drunker than he.
Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain’d,
Which now in his house has for ages remain’d;
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood,
20 The jovial contest again have renew’d.
Three joyous good fellows with hearts clear of flaw;
Craigdarroch so famous for wit, worth, and law;
And trusty Glenriddel, so skilled in old coins;
And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines.
25 Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil,
Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil;
Or else he would muster the heads of the clan,
And once more, in claret, try which was the man.
‘By the gods of the ancients!’ Glenriddel replies,
30 ‘Before I surrender so glorious a prize,
I’ll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More3,
And bumper his horn with him twenty times o’er.’
Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend.
But he ne’er turn’d his back on his foe — or his friend,
35 Said, Toss down the Whistle, the prize of the field,
And knee-deep in claret he’d die ere he’d yield.
To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair,
So noted for drowning of sorrow and care;
But for wine and for welcome not more known to fame,
40 Than the sense, wit, and taste of a sweet lovely dame.
A Bard was selected to witness the fray,
And tell future ages the feats of the day;
A Bard who detested all sadness and spleen,
And wish’d that Parnassus a vineyard had been.
45 The dinner being over, the claret they ply,
And ev’ry new cork is a new spring of joy;
In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set,
And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.
Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o’er;
50 Bright Phoebus ne’er witness’d so joyous a corps, core
And vow’d that to leave them he was quite forlorn,
Till Cynthia hinted he’d see them next morn.
Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night,
When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,
55 Turn’d o’er in one bumper a bottle of red,
And swore ‘twas the way that their ancestor did.
Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage,
No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage;
A high ruling elder4 to wallow in wine!
60 He left the foul business to folks less divine.
The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with Fate and Quart Bumpers contend?
Though Fate said, a hero should perish in light;
So uprose bright Phoebus — and down fell the knight.
&
nbsp; 65 Next uprose our Bard, like a prophet in drink: —
‘Craigdarroch, thou’lt soar when creation shall sink!
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
Come — one bottle more — and have at the sublime!
‘Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce,
70 Shall heroes and patriots ever produce:
So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay;
The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day!’
Before inclusion in the poet’s Edinburgh edition of 1793, this ballad was printed in James Johnson’s Scots Musical Museum, in August 1792. There has been some controversy over whether or not Burns witnessed this drinking contest, but it appears that he did attend, without taking part, despite his undeserved reputation for being a drunkard. While the alcohol consumed here is abnormal, even by the standards of eighteenth-century upper-class and professional Scotland, Burns was a moderate drinker compared to many of his social superiors. Boswell, who became a hysterical loyalist under the impact of the French revolution, was a far heavier drinker. The reference to ‘old coins’ (l. 23) alludes to the fact that Riddell was, amongst other things, an antiquarian.
1 See Ossian’s Caric-thura. R.B.
2 Sir Robert Lawrie. The Cairn is a stream in Glencairn parish, where Maxwelton House is erected. The Skarr, likewise, runs into the Nith.