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ALLAN-A-MAUT.
Good Allan-a-Maut lay on the rigg,
One called him bear, one called him bigg;
An old dame slipped on her glasses: "Aha!
He'll waken," quoth she, "with joy to us a'."
The sun shone out, down dropped the rain,
He laughed as he came to life again;
And carles and carlins sung who saw 't,
Good luck to your rising, Allan-a-Maut.
Good Allan-a-Maut grew green and rank,
With a golden beard and a shapely shank,
And rose sae steeve, and waxed sae stark.
He whomelt the maid, and coupit the dark;
The sick and lame leaped hale and weel,
The faint of heart grew firm as steel,
The douce nae mair called mirth a faut,
Such charms are mine, quoth Allan-a-Maut.
The person who chanted this famous border bousing-rhyme was a tall young man, whose shaggy greatcoat, brass-headed riding whip, and long sharp spurs projecting from behind his massy and iron-heeled boots, might denote him to be a dealer in horses, accoutred for Rosley Hill or Dumfries Fairs. But his inner coat, lined with silk, and studded with silver buttons, a small gold chain round his neck, from which depended a heart of rock crystal, enclosing a tress of nut-brown hair, and half concealed among ruffles of the finest cambric, edged with rich lace, might belong to an opulent and fantastic youth fond of finery, proud of a handsome person, and vain of his influence among the border maidens.
His singular song and remarkable dress attracted instant attention. His character was thus hit off by a demure old dame in a whisper to me, during the applause which followed his song. "He's a frank and a conceited youth, sir; the owner of a fair estate, and well known among the merry maids of Cumberland and Dumfriesshire at fairs and dancings, when his patrimony is showered down among the gay and
