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IN winter, when the rain rain'd cauld,

And frost and snaw on ilka hill,
And Boreas wi' his blasts sae bauld

Was threat'ning a' our kye to kill;
Then Bell my wife, wha lo'es nae strife,
She said to me richt hastilie,
Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life,
And tak' your auld cloak about ye.

My Crummie is a usefu' cow,

And she is come of a good kin; Aft has she wet the bairnie's mou', And I am laith that she should tyne : Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time,

The sun shines frae the lift sae hie ; Sloth never made a gracious end,— Gae, tak' your auld cloak about ye.

My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak, When it was fitting for my wear; But now it's scantly worth a groat,

For I hae worn't this thretty year: Let's spend the gear that we hae won, We little ken the day we'll dee; Then I'll be proud, since I hae sworn To hae a new cloak about me. In days when our king Robert rang,

His trews they cost but half-a-croun, He said they were a great ower dear, And ca'd the tailor thief and loon. He was the king that wore the croun, And thou the man of laigh degree: It's pride puts a' the country doun, Sae tak' your auld cloak about ye. Ilka land has its ain lauch,

Ilk kind o' corn has its ain hool; I think the warld has a' gane wrang,

When ilka wife her man wad rule. Do ye no see Rob, Jock, and Hab, As they are girded gallantlie, While I sit huyklin i' the ase?

I'll hae a new cloak about me. Gudeman, I wat it's thretty year Sin' we did ane anither ken, And we hae had atween us twa

Of lads and bonnie lasses ten; Now they are women grown and men, I wish and pray weel may they be: If you would prove a good husband, E'en tak' your auld cloak about ye.

Bell my wife she lo'es nae strife,
But she would guide me if she can ;
And to maintain an easy life,

I aft maun yield, though I'm gudeman.
Nocht's to be gain'd at woman's hand,
Unless ye gi'e her a' the plea :
Then I'll leave aff where I began,

And tak' my auld cloak about me.

This is one of the most ancient Scottish songs extant. That it was known to Shakspeare in its English garb is evident from his having quoted the antepenultimate stanza in the second act of "Othello." The English version appears in Percy's "Reliques." It differs from the Scottish in some respects, but not materially; and Percy evidently inclines to admit that the Scottish is the original version. The Scottish version appears to have been first published in a complete form by Allan Ramsay, in the "Tea-Table Miscellany.'

WIDOW, ARE YE WAUKIN?

ALLAN RAMSAY. From the "Tea-Table Miscellany."
"OH, wha's that at my chamber-door ?"
"Fair widow, are ye waukin ?"
"Auld carle, your suit give o'er,
Your love lies a' in talking.
Gi'e me a lad that's young and tight,
Sweet like an April meadow ;
'Tis sic as he can bless the sight
And bosom of a widow."

"O widow, wilt thou let me in?
I'm pawky, wise, and thrifty,
And come of a right gentle kin—
I'm little mair than fifty."

"Daft carle, ye may dicht your mouth;

What signifies how pawky

Or gentle-born ye be, bot youth,

In love you're but a gawky."

"Then, widow, let these guineas speak,
That powerfully plead clinkan;
And if they fail, my mouth I'll steek,
And nae mair love will think on.'

"These court indeed, I maun confess;
I think they make you young, sir,
And ten times better can express
Affection than your tongue, sir."

HOW, WANTON WIDOW!

"How, wanton widow,
Are ye waukin yet?
Hey, wanton widow,

Are ye waukin yet?"
Quoth the widow to the man,
"Ye may come in an' see.”
Quoth the man to the widow,
“Will ye marry me?"

Quoth the widow to the man,

"I maun think awhile; Ye hae spoken o'er rash,

For me first to tell;

But if ye be kindly,

We yet may agree."

Quoth the man to the widow,

“Ye maun marry me."

This song, somewhat similar in character to the one preceding, has been recovered from tradition, and preserved in the manuscript copy of the ancient songs of the north of Scotland collected by the late Peter Buchan.

JOCKEY FOU, JENNY FAIN.

From the "Tea-Table Miscellany," 1724.

Air-"Jockey fou."

JOCKEY fou, Jenny fain,

Jenny was na ill to gain;

She was couthie, he was kind,

And thus the wooer tell'd his mind:

Jenny, I'll nae mair be nice,

Gi'e me love at ony price;
I winna prig for red or white-
Love alane can gi'e delyte.

N

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