The Flower of Caledonia.
[The author of this song was James Brown, long known in the west of Scotland in his professional capacities of musician and dancing-master. In his latter days he was afflicted with blindness, and kept a small public house, in Jamaica Street, Glasgow, where he died in 1836. He left a great number of songs in manuscript.]
Since uncle's death I've lads anew,
That never came before to woo;
But to the laddie I'll be true,
That lo'ed me first of onie, O;
I've lads anew since I gat gear,
Before my price they'd hardly speer;
But nane to me is half so dear,
As my true lover Johnnie, O.
Weel do I mind o' auld langsyne,
How they would laugh at me and mine;
Now I'll pay them back in their ain coin,
And show them I lo'e Johnnie, O.
Weel mind I, in my youthfu' days,
How happy I've been gath'rin' slaes,
And row in' on yon breckan braes,
Wi' the flower of Caledonia.
The Laird comes o'er and tells my dad,
That surely I am turning mad,
And tells my mam I lo'e a lad
That's neither rich nor bonnie, O.
The Laird is but a silly gowk,
For tho' my Johnnie has nae stock,
Yet he's the flow'r o' a' the flock,
And the pride of Caledonia.
When to the Laird I wrought for fee,
He wadna look nor speak to me,
But now at breakfast, dine, and tea,
He'd fain mak' me his cronie, O;
But sure as gowd cures the heart-ach,
It's only for my siller's sake;
The mair o' me that they a' make,
The mair I lo'e my Johnnie, O.
But now my wedding day is set,
When I'll be married to my pet,
With pleasure I will pay the debt,
I've awn sac lang to Johnnie, O.
Come, fiddler, now cast aff your coat,
We's dance a reel upon the spot,
Play "Jockie's made a wedding o't,"
Or "Snod your cockemonie," O.
How laddies keep your lasses till't,
And lasses a' your coaties kilt,
And let us ha'e a cantie lilt,
Since I ha'e got my Johnnie, O;
I've got my heart's desire at last,
Though many frowns between us past,
And since we're tied baith hard and fast,
May peace crown Caledonia!
Somebody.
[Gibson.]
Cou'd I be glad or happy yestreen,
When somebody wasna there.
Cou'd I look blythe or cheery yestreen,
Alas! when my heart was sair.
What need I think or care about ane,
Wha maybe cares little for me;—
Ay! somebody's gotten my heart unsought,
An' what mair has a lassie to gi'e?
Somebody's words are wonderfu' words,
They're wonderfu' words to hear;
Somebody's words can lighten the heart,
Or fill the e'e wi' a tear.
They may say's they like, they may do's they li'ke,
An' somebody I may tine;
But I'll live's I am, an' I'll dee's I am,
If somebody mayna be mine.
Charming Nancy.
[Tune "Humours of Glen." "Charming Nancy," says the Rev. Mr. Skinner, in a letter to Burns, "is the real production of genius in a ploughman of twenty years of age at the time of its appearing, with no more education than what he picked up at an old farmer grandfather's fireside, though now by the strength of natural parts, he is clerk to a thriving bleachfield in the neighbourhood."]
Some sing of sweet Mally, some sing of fair Nelly,
And some call sweet Susie the cause of their pain,
Some love to be jolly, some love melancholy,
And some love to sing of the Humours of Glen.
