I'LL NO WAKE WI' ANNIE. I COMPOSED this pastoral ballad, as well as the air to which it is sung, whilst sailing one lovely day on St Mary's Loch; a pastime in which, above all others, I delighted, and of which I am now most shamefully deprived. Lord Napier never did so cruel a thing, not even on the high seas, as the interdicting of me from sailing on that beloved lake, which if I have not rendered classical, has not been my blame. But the credit will be his own,—that is some comfort.-The song was first harmonized by Mr Heather, London, and subsequently by Mr Dewar of Edinburgh; and is to be found in the Border Garland, last edition, published by Mr Purdie. O, MOTHER, tell the laird o't, Or sairly it will grieve me, O, And Annie's to gang wi' me, O. I'll wake the ewes my night about, I'll no wake wi' Annie, O; Nor sit my lane o'er night wi' ane Dear son, be wise an' warie, But never be unmanly, O; I've heard ye tell another tale Of young an' charming Annie, O. He'll no wake, he'll no wake, Nor sit his lane o'er night wi' ane P I tauld ye ear', I tauld ye late, That lassie wad trapan ye, O; An' ilka word ye boud to say When left alane wi' Annie, O! Take my advice this night for aince, Or beauty's tongue will ban ye, O, An' sey your leal auld mother's skill Ayont the muir wi' Annie, O. He'll no wake, he'll no wake, He'll no wake wi' Annie, O, Nor sit his lane o'er night wi' ane The night it was a simmer night, An' wasna that right dowie, O? He maun wake, he maun wake, Neist morning at his mother's knee An' aye he clasp'd her kindly, O. I'll aye wake wi' Annie, O, An' sit my lane ilk night wi' ane Sae sweet, sae kind, an' canny, O!" THE LASS O' CARLISLE. I WROTE this daftlike song off-hand one day to fill up a page of a letter which was to go to Fraser by post, being averse to his paying for any blank paper. I did not deem it worthy of publication anywhere else; but after its having appeared in print, why, let it have a place here. I'LL sing ye a wee bit sang, A sang i' the aulden style, It is of a bonny young lass Wha lived in merry Carlisle. Sing hey, hickerty dickerty, Hickerty dickerty dear; The lass that has gowd an' beauty Has naething on earth to fear! |