She.
Yes, I may tell, and fret mysel',
To think on the blythe days I had,
When he and I thegither lay
In arms, into a weel-made bed.
But now I sigh, and may be sad;
Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan;
Thou foulds thy feet, and fa's asleep:
And thoul't never be like my auld gudeman.
Then coming was the nicht sae dark,
And gane was a' the licht of day;
The carle was fear'd to miss his mark,
And therefore wad nae langer stay.
Then up he gat, and he ran his way;
I trow the wife the day she wan
And aye the owerword o' the fray
Was ever, Alake, my auld gudeman!
The weary pund o' tow.
[The chorus of this song and the tune are old: the rest was furnished by Burns for the Museum.]
The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;
I thought my wife wad end her life
Before she span her tow.
I bought my wife a stane o' lint,
As good as e'er did grow,
And a' that she could mak' o' that
Was ae weary pund o' tow.
The weary pund, &c.
There sat a bottle in a bole,
Ayont the ingle low,
And aye she took the tither sook,
To drook the stoury tow.
The weary pund, &c.
For shame, said I, you dirty dame,
Gae spin your tap o' tow:
She took the roke, and, wi' a knock,
She brak' it ower my pow.
The weary pund, &c.
At length her feet—I sang to see it-
Gaed foremost ower the knowe;
And ere I wed another jade
I'll wallop in a tow.
The weary pund, &c.
Galloway Tam.
[Galloway Tam is said to have been a stalwart gypsey in Galloway of the name of Thomas Marshall, some of whose descendants can still be traced. We cannot speak as to the age of the song, but in Gordon of Straloch's MS. Lute Book, 1627, "Gallua Tam" occurs as the title of an air. In the "Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," two additional verses are given to the present, but they are evidently spurious, and scarcely fit for quoting.]
O, Galloway Tam came here to woo—
I'd rather we'd gi'en him the bawsand cow;
For our lass Bess may curse and ban
The wanton wit o' Galloway Tam!
O Galloway Tam came here to shear—
I'd rather we'd gi'en him the guid gray mare
He kiss'd the gudewife, and dang the gudeman—
And that's the tricks o' Galloway Tam!
There dwalt a man.
["I owe whatever is curious and humorous of this ancient song to the kindness of Sir Walter Scott, from whose recitation I wrote it. Whatever is new and dull must be attributed to me, since I ventured to alter the last lines of the second verse, and to add the third."—Allan Cunningham.]
There dwalt a man into the west,
And O gin he was cruel,
For on his bridal night at e'en
He gat up and grat for gruel.
They brought to him a gude sheep head,
A napkin and a towel:
Gar tak' thae whim-whams fer frae me,
And bring to me my gruel.
But there's nae meal in a' the house,
What will we do, my jewel?
Get up the powk and shake it out,
I winna want my gruel.
But there's nae milk in a' the house,
Nor yet a spunk o' fuel:
Gae warm it in the light o' the moon,
I winna want my gruel.
