ONE A RIE.

Dr. Blacklock informed me that this song was composed on the infamous
massacre of Glencoe.

* * * * *

I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE.

This is another of Crawfurd's songs, but I do not think in his
happiest manner.--What an absurdity, to join such names as _Adonis_
and _Mary_ together!

* * * * *

CORN RIGS ARE BONIE.

All the old words that ever I could meet to this air were the
following, which seem to have been an old chorus:

"O corn rigs and rye rigs,
O corn rigs are bonie;
And where'er you meet a bonie lass,
Preen up her cockernony."

* * * * *

THE MUCKING OF GEORDIE'S BYRE.

The chorus of this song is old; the rest is the work of Balloon
Tytler.

* * * * *

BIDE YE YET.

There is a beautiful song to this tune, beginning,

"Alas, my son, you little know,"--

which is the composition of Miss Jenny Graham, of Dumfries.

* * * * *

WAUKIN O' THE FAULD.

There are two stanzas still sung to this tune, which I take to be the
original song whence Ramsay composed his beautiful song of that name
in the Gentle Shepherd.--It begins

"O will ye speak at our town,
As ye come frae the fauld."

I regret that, as in many of our old songs, the delicacy of this old
fragment is not equal to its wit and humour.

* * * * *

TRANENT-MUIR.

"Tranent-Muir," was composed by a Mr. Skirving, a very worthy
respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often,
that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to
Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to
Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner
in which he had noticed him in his song. "Gang away back," said the
honest farmer, "and tell Mr. Smith that I hae nae leisure to come to
Haddington; but tell him to come here, and I'll tak a look o' him, and
if I think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no, I'll do as
he did--_I'll rin awa."_--

* * * * *

TO THE WEAVERS GIN YE GO.

The chorus of this song is old, the rest of it is mine. Here, once for
all, let me apologize for many silly compositions of mine in this
work. Many beautiful airs wanted words; in the hurry of other
avocations, if I could string