Ochon, for somebody!
Och hey, for somebody!
I wad do—what wad I not?—
For the sake of somebody.
Jessie o' the Dell.
[Written by William Cameron. Music by Matthew Wilson.]
Oh! bright the beaming queen o' night
Shines in yon flowery vale,
And softly sheds her silver light
O'er mountain-path and dale.
Short is the way, when light's the heart,
That's bound in love's soft spell;
Sae I'll awa' to Armadale,
To Jessie o' the Dell.
We've pu'ed the primrose on the braes,
Beside my Jessie's cot;
We've gather'd nuts, we've gather'd slaes,
In that sweet rural spot.
The wee short hours danced merrily,
Like lambkins on the fell,
As if they join'd in joy wi' me,
And Jessie o' the Dell.
There's nane to me wi' her can vie,
I'll love her till I dee,
For she's sae sweet, and bonnie, aye,
And kind as kind can be.
This night in mutual kind embrace,
O wha our joys can tell!
Then I'll awa' to Armadale,
To Jessie o' the Dell.
I'll gar our Gudeman.
[An old ditty preserved in a small collection called "The Ballad Book," printed at Edinburgh in 1834.]
I'll gar our gudeman trow
I'll sell the ladle,
If he winna buy to me
A bonnie side-saddle,
To ride to kirk and bridal,
And round about the town;
Stand about, ye fisher jauds,
And gi'e my gown room!
I'll gar our gudeman trow
I'll tak' the fling-strings,
If he winna buy to me
Twal bonnie gowd rings;
Ane for ilka finger,
And twa for illia thoom;
Stand about, ye fisher jauds,
And gi'e my gown room!
I'll gar our gudeman trow
That I'm gaun to die,
If he winna fee to me
Valets twa or three,
To bear my train up frae the dirt,
And ush me through the town,
Stand about, ye fisher jauds,
And gi'e my gown room!
Hame, hame, hame.
[Contributed by Allan Cunningham to Cromek's Remaius of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, where it is said to be printed from a copy found in Burns's Common Place Book. In the introduction to the Fortunes of Nigel, it will be remembered, Sir Walter Scott speaks of this song in the most laudatory terms.]
Hame! hame! hame! O hame fain wad I be!
O, hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!
When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree,
The lark shall sing me hame to my ain countrie.
Hame, hame, hame! O hame fain wad I be!
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!
The green leaf o' loyaltie's beginning now to fa';
The bonnie white rose it is withering an' a';
But we'll water't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie,
And fresh it shall blaw in my ain countrie!
Hame, hame, hame! O hame fain wad I be
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!
