Her lovely eyes with tears ran o’er, And aye she mourn'd the fatal hour But who could cruelly deceive, And now she thanks the happy hour She rose and loot me in. [First printed in the Tea Table Miscellany, 1724. The versions of Ramsay and Herd have not here been printed on account of their indelicacy. I have printed Allan Cunningham's copy of the song in preference to Mr. Chambers', as having more of the old spirit in it. The present song has been claimed by Ritson as an English production.] MAGGIE LAUDER. FRANCIS SEMPLE OF BELTREES. Wha wadnae be in love Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder! A piper met her gaun to Fife, And spier'd what was't they ca'd her: Begone, you hallan-shaker; Jog on your gate, you blether-skate, Maggie, quoth he, now by my bags, My name is Rab the Ranter: Piper, quo' Meg, hae ye your bags, If you be Rab, I've heard of you,Live you upon the border? The lasses a', baith far and near, Have heard o' Rab the Ranter- Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, Weel bobbed! quo Rab the Ranter; 'Tis worth my while to play, indeed, When I hae sic a dancer. Weel hae you played your part, quo Meg, Your cheeks are like the crimsonThere's nane in Scotland plays sae weel Since we lost Habbie Simpson.* * A celebrated piper in Renfrewshire. I've lived in Fife, baith maid and wife, is ["This old song, so pregnant with Scottish naiveté and energy, much relished by all ranks notwithstanding its broad wit and palpable allusions. Its language is a precious model of imitation: sly, sprightly, and forcibly expressive. Maggie's tongue wags out the nicknames of Rob the piper with all the careless lightsomeness of unrestrained gaiety."-BURNS. From Herd's Collection, first Edition. 8vo. 1769. The second Edition in two volumes did not appear till 1776.] WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A'. The bride cam' out o' the byre, An' have neither blankets nor sheets: Woo'd and woo'd and married, That was woo'd and married and a'. Out spake the bride's father, As he cam' in frae the pleugh; O haud your tongue, my dochter, And ye's get gear enough; The stirk that stands i' th' tether, An' ye hae ribbons an' buskin's, What's the matter, quo' Willie, And we'll get teats o' woo, Out spake the bride's brither, For ye're baith proud and saucy, I'se ne'er tak ane i' my life. Out spake the bride's sister, As she came in frae the byre; O gin I were but married, It's a' that I desire: But we poor fouk maun live single, I dinna care what I should want, If I could get a man. [First published by David Herd in 1769. It is an excellent and an ancient song, says Mr. Cunningham.] KATHERINE OGIE. As walking forth to view the plain, Upon a morning early, While May's sweet scent did cheer my brain, From flowers which grew so rarely; I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid, . I stood a while, and did admire, Like this same Kath'rine Ogie. Thou flow'r of females, beauty's queen, |