But sawna ye the lassie then,
Through the wood or owre the lea?
Though ye're the wale o' cantiest men,
To seek her quickly maun I flee.
Fare ye weel then, funnie bodie!
Whan ye ca' 't the Netherlee,
Spier for me, auld fairan' bodie,
Then the lassie dear ye'll see.
Hie, bonnie lassie.
[This popular song has hitherto appeared in all the collections as an anonymous production, but we have the authority of a highly esteemed correspondent for saying that it was written by the Rev. James Honeyman, minister of Kinneff, in Kincardineshire, who died at an advanced age in or about the year 1779. Mr. Honeyman wrote other poetical pieces, but none of them came before the public except this song, and the circumstance that brought it to light was this. About the time it was written, an itinerant teacher of music appeared in the district, and happening to get a copy of it, he sang it in his classes, at his concerts, and on other occasions, till it acquired a local popularity, and the demand for copies increased so much that the aid of the printer was called in to supply them, and thus, by and bye, it came to be spread over the country in ballad-books and broad-sheets. It is surprising that "Hie bonnie lassie" should have escaped so successful a collector as David Herd, who was himself a native of Kincardineshire.]
Hie, bonnie lassie, blink over the burn,
And if your sheep wander I'll gi'e them a turn;
Sae happy as we'll be on yonder green shade,
If ye'll be my dawtie, and sit in my plaid.
A yowe and twa lammies are a' my haill stock,
But I'll sell a lammie out o' my wee flock,
To buy thee a head-piece, sae bonnie and braid,
If ye'll be my dawtie, and sit in my plaid.
I ha'e a wee whittle made me a trout creel,
And, oh, that wee whittle I likit it weel;
But I'll gi'e't to my lassie, and mair if I had,
If she'll be my dawtie, and sit in my plaid.
I ha'e little siller, but ae hauf-year's fee,
But if ye will tak' it, I'll gi'e't a' to thee;
And then we'll be married, and lie in ae bed,
If ye'll be my dawtie, and sit in my plaid.
Old Nanny’s Song.
[From Hogg's "Brownie of Bodsbeck."]
The kye are rowting in the lone,
The ewes bleat on the brae,
O, what can ail my auld gudeman,
He bides sae lang away!
An' aye the Robin sang by the wud,
An' his note had a waesome fa',
An' the corbie croupit in the clud,
But he durstna light ava;
Till out cam' the wee grey moudiwort
Frae 'neath the hollow stane,
An' it howkit a grave for the auld grey head
For the head lay a' its lane!
But I will seek out the robin's nest,
An' the nest of the ouzel shy,
For the siller hair that is beddit there
Maun wave aboon the sky.
The lassie o’ the glen.
[This little lyric is the earliest poetical production of Angus Fletcher, and first appeared in several Newspapers about the year 1802 or 3. It was written to a Gaelic air, but it may also be sung to the good old tune of "Willie was a wanton wag." Glendaruel, one of the richest and prettiest valleys in Scotland, forms the parish of Kilmodan, in Cowal; and is generally called, by way of pre-eminence, The Glen. The river Ruel winds slowly and beautifully through its whole length.]
Beneath a hill, 'mang birken bushes,
By a burnie's dimpilt linn,
I told my love, with artless blushes,
To the lassie o' the Glen.
O the birken bank sae grassy
Hey the burnie's dimpilt linn!
Dear to me's the bonnie lassie
Living in yon rashie glen.
Lanely Ruel! thy stream sae glassie,
Shall be aye my fav'rite theme;
For, on thy bank my Highland lassie
First confess'd a mutual flame.
O the birken, &c.
