Now the tempest’s blawin’,
Almond water ‘s flowin’,
Deep and ford unknowin’,
She
maun cross the day.
Almond waters, spare her,
Safe to Lynedoch bear her!
Its braes ne’er saw
a fairer,
Bess
Bell nor Mary Gray.
Oh, now to be wi’ her!
Or but ance to see her
Skaithless, far or near,
I
’d gie Scotland’s crown.
Byeword, blind ’s a
lover—
Wha ’s yon I discover?
Just yer ain fair rover,
Stately
stappin’ down.
[53] Another song with the same title, “Saw ye nae my Peggy?” is inserted in the Collections. It first appeared in Herd’s Collection, in 1769, though it is understood to be of a considerably older date. Allan Ramsay composed two songs to the same air, but they are both inferior. The air is believed to have originally been connected with some exceptionable words, beginning, “Saw ye my Maggie?”
GUDE NICHT, AND JOY BE WI’ YE A’!
The best o’ joys maun
hae an end,
The best o’
friends maun part, I trow;
The langest day will wear
away,
And I maun bid
fareweel to you.
The tear will tell when hearts
are fu’,
For words, gin
they hae sense ava,
They ’re broken, faltering,
and few:
Gude nicht, and
joy be wi’ you a’!
Oh, we hae wander’d
far and wide,
O’er Scotia’s
lands o’ frith and fell!
And mony a simple flower we
’ve pu’d,
And twined it
wi’ the heather-bell.
We ’ve ranged the dingle
and the dell,
The cot-house,
and the baron’s ha’;
Now we maun tak a last farewell:
Gude nicht, and
joy be wi’ you a’!
My harp, fareweel! thy strains
are past,
Of gleefu’
mirth, and heartfelt care;
The voice of song maun cease
at last,
And minstrelsy
itsel’ decay.
But, oh! whar sorrow canna
win,
Nor parting tears
are shed ava’,
May we meet neighbour, kith,
and kin,
And joy for aye
be wi’ us a’!
CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.[54]
There ’s cauld kail
in Aberdeen,
There ’s
castocks in Strabogie;
And morn and e’en, they
’re blythe and bein,
That haud them
frae the cogie.
Now, haud ye frae the cogie,
lads;
O bide ye frae
the cogie!
I ’ll tell ye true,
ye ’ll never rue,
O’ passin’
by the cogie.
Young Will was braw and weel
put on,
Sae blythe was
he and vogie;
And he got bonnie Mary Don,
The flower o’
a’ Strabogie.
Wha wad hae thocht, at wooin’
time,
He ’d e’er
forsaken Mary,
And ta’en him to the
tipplin’ trade,
Wi’ boozin’
Rob and Harry?