DONALD MACDONALD. I PLACE this song the first, not on account of any intrinsic merit that it possesses,-for there it ranks rather low,—but merely because it was my first song, and exceedingly popular when it first appeared. I wrote it when a barefooted lad herding lambs on the Blackhouse Heights, in utter indignation at the threatened invasion from France. But after it had run through the Three Kingdoms, like fire set to heather, for ten or twelve years, no one ever knew or enquired who was the author.-It is set to the old air, "Woo'd an' married an' a'." My name it is Donald M'Donald, I leeve in the Heelands sae grand; I ken that my brethren around me A Brogues an' brochin an' a', Brochin an' brogues an' a'; An' is nae her very weel aff Wi' her brogues an' brochin an' a'? What though we befriendit young To tell it I dinna think shame ; Poor lad, he cam to us but barely, Charlie ? An' reckon'd our mountains his hame, 'Twas true that our reason forbade us; But tenderness carried the day ;Had Geordie come friendless amang us, Wi' him we had a' gane away. Sword an' buckler an' a', Buckler an' sword an' a'; Now for George we'll encounter the devil, Wi' sword an' buckler an' a'! An' O, I wad eagerly press him The keys o' the East to retain ; For should he gie up the possession, We'll soon hae to force them again. Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour, Knees an' elbows an' a', Elbows an' knees an a'; Depend upon Donald M'Donald, Wad Bonaparte land at Fort-William, Or lull him asleep in a cairny, An' sing him-Lochaber no more! Stanes an' bullets an' a', Bullets an' stanes an' a'; We'll finish the Corsican callan Wi' stanes an' bullets an' a'! For the Gordon is good in a hurry, An' Campbell is steel to the bane, An' Grant, an' M'Kenzie, an' Murray, An' I, their gudebrither, M'Donald, An' up wi' the bonny blue bonnet, The kilt an' the feather an' a'!* * I once heard the above song sung in the theatre at Lan-, caster, when the singer substituted the following lines of his own for the last verse: 6 For Jock Bull he is good in a hurry, An' Sawney is steel to the bane, An' wee Davie Welsh is a widdy, An' Paddy will hurkle to nane; Shall ne'er be the last in the fray !" &c. It took exceedingly well, and was three times encored, and there was I sitting in the gallery, applauding as much as any body. My vanity prompted me to tell a jolly Yorkshire manufacturer that night, that I was the author of the song. He laughed excessively at my assumption, and told the landlady that he took me for a half-crazed Scots pedlar. Another anecdote concerning this song I may mention; and I do it with no little pride, as it is a proof of the popularity of Donald M'Donald among a class, to inspire whom with devotion to the cause of their country was at the time a matter of no little consequence. Happening upon one occasion to be in a wood in Dumfries-shire, through which wood the highroad passed, I heard a voice singing; and a turn of the road soon brought in sight a soldier, who seemed to be either travelling home upon furlough, or returning to his regiment. When the singer approached nearer, I distinguished the notes of my.own song of Donald M'Donald. As the lad proceeded with his song, he got more and more into the spirit of the thing, and on coming to the end, "An' up wi' the bonny blue bonnet, in the height of his enthusiasm, he hoisted his cap on the end of his staff, and danced it about triumphantly. I stood ensconced behind a tree, and heard and saw all without being observed. |