the
three first bars, he has either hit on a wonderful similarity to, or
else he has entirely borrowed the three first bars of the old air; and
the close of both tunes is almost exactly the same. The old verses to
which it was sung, when I took down the notes from a country girl's
voice, had no great merit.--The following is a specimen:

"There was a pretty May, and a milkin she went;
Wi' her red rosy cheeks, and her coal black hair;
And she has met a young man a comin o'er the bent,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.

O where are ye goin, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, and thy coal black hair?
Unto the yowes a milkin, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May.

What if I gang alang with thee, my ain pretty May,
Wi' thy red rosy cheeks, any thy coal-black hair;
Wad I be aught the warse o' that, kind sir, she says,
With a double and adieu to thee, fair May."

* * * * *

MARY'S DREAM.

The Mary here alluded to is generally supposed to be Miss Mary
Macghie, daughter to the Laird of Airds, in Galloway. The poet was a
Mr. John Lowe, who likewise wrote another beautiful song, called
Pompey's Ghost.--I have seen a poetic epistle from him in North
America, where he now is, or lately was, to a lady in Scotland.--By
the strain of the verses, it appeared that they allude to some love
affair.

* * * * *

THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS.

BY MR. DUDGEON.

This Dudgeon is a respectable farmer's son in Berwickshire.

* * * * *

I WISH MY LOVE WERE IN A MIRE.

I never heard more of the words of this old song than the title.

* * * * *

ALLAN WATER.

This Allan Water, which the composer of the music has honoured with
the name of the air, I have been told is Allan Water, in Strathallan.

* * * * *

THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

This is one of the most beautiful songs in the Scots, or any other
language.--The two lines,

"And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak!"

as well as the two preceding ones, are unequalled almost by anything I
ever heard or read: and the lines,

"The present moment is our ain,
The neist we never saw,"--

are worthy of the first poet. It is long posterior to Ramsay's days.
About the