ATHOL CUMMERS. I MUST add one other of the same quality, for two, with me, potent reasons. 1st, The song was composed at the request of a beloved parent. I remember it well. One evening in the winter of 1800, I was sawing away on the fiddle with great energy and elevation, and having executed the strathspey called Athol Cummers, much to my own satisfaction, my mother said to me, "Dear Jimmie, are there ony words to that tune?" - No that ever I heard, mother."-" O man, it's a shame to hear sic a good tune an' nae words till't. Gae away ben the house, like a good lad, and mak' me a verse till't." The request was instantly complied with. 66 2d, It was a great favourite with my kind friend, Mr R. P. Gillies, who sung it every night with great glee; and after he had done, and taken a laugh at it, he uniformly put his hand across his mouth, and made the following remark—“ Well, I certainly do think it is a most illustrious song, Athol Cummers." DUNCAN, lad, blaw the cummers, A' the din o' a' the drummers Canna rouse like Athol cummers. When I'm dowie, wet or weary, Soon my heart grows light an' cheery, When I hear the sprightly nummers O' my dear, my Athol cummers! When the fickle lasses vex me, When the cares o' life perplex me, When I'm fley'd wi' frightfu' rumours, Then I lilt o' Athol cummers. 'Tis my cure for a' disasters, Kebbit ewes an' crabbit masters, Drifty nights an' dripping summers A' my joy is Athol cummers! Ettrick banks an' braes are bonny, But in my heart nae beauty nummers * Maidens. LOVE LETTER. THIS and the following song were both written in 1811, forming parts of humorous letters to the young lady who afterwards became my wife. Aн, Maggy, thou art gane away, My mind's the aspen o' the vale, I downa bide to see the moon N An' when down by the water clear I sigh, an' think if ane war here, Ah, Maggy, thou art gane away, For thou wert aye sae sweet, sae gay, I dinna blush to swear an' say, In faith I canna want thee! O, in the slippery paths o' love Let virtue every step approve, To ilka pleasure, ilka pang, Alack! I am nae stranger, An' he wha aince has wander'd wrang, Is best aware of danger. |