The Canongate Burns (61 page)
Read The Canongate Burns Online
Authors: Robert Burns
Tune: Merry Beggars
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie,
sister
      Some counsel unto me come len';
lend
To anger them a' is a pity,
      But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? â
5
I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
such, fine
      In poortith I might mak a fen':
poverty, shift
What care I in riches to wallow,
      If I mauna marry Tam Glen. â
may not
There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,
10
      âGuid day to you, brute' he comes ben:
good, on
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
boasts, money
      But when will he dance like Tam Glen. â
My minnie does constantly deave me,
mother, chide
      And bids me beware o' young men;
15
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
      But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen. â
who, so
My Daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
if
      He'd gie me gude hunder marks ten:
give, good
But if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
must
20
      O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
who
Yestreen at the Valentines' dealing,
1
last night
      My heart to my mou gied a sten;
mouth gave, leap
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
one
      And thrice it was written, Tam Glen. â
25
The last Halloween I was waukin
waken/watching
      My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;
drenched shirt-, know
His likeness came up the house staukin,
image, stalking
      And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!
trousers
Come, counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry;
sister
30
      I'll gie ye my bonie black hen,
give
Gif ye will advise me to Marry
if
      The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen. â
love
Burns sent this original dramatic lyric to Johnson in November 1788. A characteristic theme of Burns's women's songs is the matrimonial choice of love as opposed to wealth. Aided by the psychic forces occassioned by the Valentine's lottery and the Halloween rituals, the girl is not to be denied her materially poor lover. âBrute' is restored in l. 10 as earlier editors suppressed this female denunciation of a social superior.
1
An old custom of sweethearts being chosen by lot on St. Valentine's Day. R.B.
Tune: Robie donna gorach
First printed in the S.M.M., Vol. 3, 2nd February, 1790.
The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
       Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
       Where Cummins ance had high command:
once
5
When shall I see that honor'd Land,
       That winding Stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
       For ever, ever keep me here.
How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
10
       Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom;
And sweetly spread thy sloping dales
       Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
Tho' wandering now must be my doom,
       Far from thy bonie banks and braes,
hill slopes
15
May there my latest hours consume
Amang my friends of early days!
among
This was, as Burns told Mrs Dunlop, his first compliment to the river Nith, written on 20th August 1788. Cummins (l. 4) is Bruce's rival, The Red Comyn.
On New Year's Day Evening, 1790
First printed in
The St. James's Chronicle & British Evening Post
,14th January, 1790.
No song nor dance I bring from yon great city,
That queens it o'er our taste â the more's the pity:
Tho' by the bye, abroad why will you roam?
Good sense and taste are natives here at home.
5
But not for panegyric I appear,
I come to wish you all a good New Year!
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye,
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story:
The sage grave Ancient cough'd, and bade me say,
10
âYou're one year older this important day,'
If
wiser
too â he hinted some suggestion,
But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the question;
And with a would-be-roguish leer and wink,
He bade me on you press this one word â âTHINK!'
15
Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit,
Who think to storm the world by dint of merit,
To you the dotard has a deal to say,
In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way!
He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle
20
That the first blow is ever half the battle;
That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him,
Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him;
That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
You may do miracles by persevering.
25
Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair,
Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care!
To you old Bald-Pate smoothes his wrinkled brow,
And humbly begs you'll mind the important â Now!
To crown your happiness he asks your leave,
30
And offers, bliss to give and to receive.
For our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours,
With grateful pride we own your many favours;
And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it,
Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.
George Sutherland was manager of the Dumfries Theatre (the old theatre referred to here no longer exists, but the new theatre subscribed for during 1790 still stands). Burns got in touch with Sutherland, knowing the theatre was playing on New Year's Day, 1790, and enclosed an early draft of the above. The poet appears to have been in the audience that evening and wrote to his brother Gilbert on 11th January, 1790, remarking âOn Newyearday evening I gave him the following Prologue which he spouted to his Audience with great applause' (Letter 381).
First printed in S.M.M., Vol. 3, 1790.
Sir John Cope trod the north right far
Yet ne'er a rebel he cam naur,
near
Until he landed at Dunbar
Right early in the morning.
Chorus
5
Hey Johnie Cope are ye waulking yet,
wakened
Or are ye sleeping I would wit;
O haste ye get up for the drums do beat,
O fye Cope rise in the morning.
He wrote a challenge from Dunbar,
10
Come fight me Charlie an ye daur;
dare
If it be not by the chance of war
I'll give you a merry morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
When Charlie look'd the letter upon
He drew his sword the scabbard from â
15
âSo Heaven restore me to my own,
I'll meet you, Cope, in the morning'.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
Cope swore with many a bloody word
That he would fight them gun and sword,
But he fled from his nest like an ill scar'd bird,
20
And Johnie he took wing in the morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
It was upon an afternoon,
Sir Johnie march'd to Preston town;
He says, my lads come lean you down,
And we'll fight the boys in the morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
25
But when he saw the Highland lads
Wi' tartan trews and white cokauds,
cockades/white rose
Wi swords and guns and rungs and gauds,
cudgels, goads
O Johnie he took wing in the morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
On the morrow when he did rise,
30
He look'd between him and the skies;
He saw them wi their naked thighs,
Which fear'd him in the morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
O then he flew into Dunbar,
Crying for a man of war;
ship
35
He thought to have pass'd for a rustic tar,
sailor
And gotten awa in the morning.
away
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
Sir Johnie into Berwick rade,
rode
Just as the devil had been his guide;
Gien him the warld he would na stay'd
given, world, not
40
To foughten the boys in the morning.
fight
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
Says the Berwickers unto Sir John,
O what's become of all your men,
In faith, says he, I dinna ken,
do not know
I left them a' this morning.
Hey Johnie Cope &c.
45
Says Lord Mark Car, ye are na blate,
not shy
To bring us the news o' your ain defeat;
own
I think you deserve the back o' the gate,
Get out o' my sight this morning.
       Hey Johnie Cope &c.
This is the poet's reworked version of an old, popular Jacobite ballad, most of which is traditional. Johnie Cope was Sir John Cope, General of the Hanoverian army defeated at the battle of Preston-pans in 1745 by the Jacobites.
First printed in S.M.M. Vol. 3, 1790.
O dear Minny, what shall I do?
O dear Minny, what shall I do?
O dear Minny, what shall I do?
Daft thing, doylt thing, do as I do. â
stupid
5
If I be black, I canna be lo'ed;
cannot, loved
If I be fair, I canna be gude;
If I be lordly, the lads will look by me:
O dear Minny, what shall I do. â
                      O dear Minny, &c.
Burns adapted this woman's song from a lyric in Herd's 1769 collection.
First printed in S.M.M. Vol. 3, 1790.
Tune: I'll Make You be Fain to Follow MeÂ
As late by a sodger I chanced to pass,
soldier
I heard him a courtin a bony young lass;
My hinny, my life, my dearest, quo he,
darling
I'll mak you be fain to follow me.
Gin I should follow you, a poor sodger lad,
if
Ilk ane o my cummers wad think I was mad;
each, one, wenches, would
For battles I never shall lang to see,
long
I'll never be fain to follow thee.
glad
To follow me, I think ye may be glad,
A part o my supper, a part o my bed,
A part o my bed, wherever it be,
I'll mak you be fain to follow me.
glad
Come try my knapsack on your back,
Alang the king's high-gate we'll pack;
along
Between Saint Johnston and bony Dundee,
Perth
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.
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.
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 â
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 âSaid to be composed on the imprisonment of Mary Queen of Scots in Lochleven Castle'.