The Lawlands of Holland.
[Marshall's tune, called "Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey," composed for the song "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw," is formed on the fine old air of "The Lawlands of Holland." The words themselves are said to be the lamentation of a young widow in Galloway, whose husband was drowned in a voyage to Holland, about the beginning of the last century.]
The luve that I had chosen,
Was to my heart's content,
The saut sea will be frozen
Before that I repent;
Repent it will I never;
Until the day I dee,
Tho' the lawlands o' Holland
Ha'e twined my luve and me.
My luve lies in the salt sea,
And I am on the side,
Enough to break a young thing's heart
Wha lately was a bride;
Wha lately was a bonnie bride,
And pleasure in her e'e;
But the lawlands o' Holland
Ha'e twined my luve and me.
My luve he built a bonnie ship,
And sent her to the sea,
Wi' seven score brave mariners
To bear her companie;
Threescore gaed to the bottom,
And threescore died at sea,
And the lawlands o' Holland
Ha'e twined my love and me.
My luve has built anither ship,
And sent her to the main,
He had but twenty mariners,
And a' to bring her hame;
The stormy clouds did roar again,
The raging waves did rout,
And my luve, and his bonnie ship,
Turn'd widdershins about!
There shall nae mantle cross my back,
Nae comb come in my hair,
Neither sal coal or candle light,
Shine in my bowit mair;
Nor sal I ha'e anither luve,
Until the day I dee,
I never lo'ed a luve but ane,
And he's drown'd in the sea.
O, haud your tongue, my daughter dear,
Be still, and be content,
There are mair lads in Galloway,
Ye need nae sair lament.
O! there is nane in Galloway,
There 's nane at a' for me,
For I never lov'd a lad but ane,
And he 's drown'd in the sea.
A lassie cam' to our gate.
[The author of this song, and of several others which we shall have occasion to quote in the course of this work, was Robert Allan of Kilbarchan, in Renfrewshire. He was intimate with Tannahill and R. A. Smith, and wrote a number of pieces for the latter's "Scottish Minstrel" and other musical publications, some of which have become popular. He also published a collection of his poems at Glasgow in 1836. After spending a lengthened and much respected life in his native village, (his employment being that of a weaver and manufacturer's agent,) he was induced to emigrate to the United States of America, where some of his relations had established themselves. Accordingly, he sailed from Greenock, for New York, on the 28th April, 1841, but had not long landed in America when he was carried off by a bilious fever, under which he had been labouring during the latter portion of the passage. His death took place on the 7th June, 1841, exactly eight days after his arrival in New York. His funeral was attended by a number of his countrymen and of Americans. At the time of his death his age was about 67.]
A lassie cam' to our gate, yestreen,
An' low she curtsied down;
She was lovelier far an' fairer to see
Than a' our ladies roun'.
O whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo?
An' whare may your dwelling be?
But her heart, I trow, was liken to break,
An' the tear-drap dim'd her e'e.
