III. The Auld Good-Man. A SCOTTISH SONG. Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman. I HAVE not been able to meet with a more | He was large and tall, and comely withall; ancient copy of this humorous old song, than that printed in the Tea-Table Miscellany, &c., which seems to have admitted some corruptions. LATE in an evening forth I went A little before the sun gade down, And there I chanc't, by accident, To light on a battle new begun: But aye she wail'd her wretched life, Cryeng, Evir alake, mine auld goodman! HE. Thy auld goodman, that thou tells of, 5 HE. Why dost thou plein? I thee maintein; Now whan our gear gins to grow scant. Of sicklike ware he left thee bare; SHE. Yes I may tell, and fret my sell, The country kens where he was born, 10 Whan I and he together ley Was but a silly poor vagabond, And ilka ane leugh him to scorn: For he did spend and make an end In armes into a well-made bed: But now I sigh and may be sad, Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan, 25 30 35 IV. Fair Margaret and Sweet William. THIS seems to be the old song quoted in | dern printed copy picked up on a stall. Its Fletcher's "Knight of the Burning Pestle," full title is, "Fair Margaret's Misfortunes; Acts 2d and 3d; although the six lines there or Sweet William's frightful dreams on his preserved are somewhat different from those wedding night, with the sudden death and in the ballad, as it stands at present. The burial of those noble lovers."— reader will not wonder at this, when he is informed that this is only given from a mo The lines preserved in the play are this distich, "You are no love for me, Margaret, I am no love for you." And the following stanza, "When it was grown to dark midnight, These lines have acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any other language. See the song entitled "Margaret's Ghost," at the end of this volume. Since the first edition some improvements have been inserted, which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy. As it fell out on a long summer's day, I see no harm by you, Margarèt, Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, Then he turned up the covering-sheet, I'll do more for thee, Margaret, 5 For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, 10 With that bespake the seven brethren, Making most piteous mone: 45 50 You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, 55 And let our sister alone. If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day, 20 Are you awake, sweet William? shee said; When day was come, and night was gone, 25 And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady sayd, My dear, I have cause to weep. Sweet William dyed the morrow: Margaret was buryed in the lower chancèl, Ver. 31, 35, swine, PCC. *Alluding to the dole anciently given at funerals. 60 65 70 They grew till they grew unto the church top, 76 Then came the clerk of the parish, V. Barbara Allen's Cruelty. Farewell, sayd Barbara Allen. GIVEN, with some corrections, from an old ' I cannot keep you from your death; black-letter copy, entitled, "Barbary Allen's cruelty, or the Young Man's Tragedy." VII. Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan. A SCOTTISH BALLAD. PRINTED, with a few conjectural emenda- | Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir, tions, from a written copy. Whan ye the cups wer fillan: How ye made the healths gae round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan? He turn'd his face unto the wa', And death was with him dealan ; Then hooly, hooly raise she up, And hooly, hooly left him; 20 She had not gane a mile but twa, Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan ! O mither, mither, mak my bed, 35 VIII. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington. And he was a squires son: FROM an ancient black-letter copy in the | THERE was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe, Pepys Collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, "True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington." Islington in Norfolk is probably the place here meant. *An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes Dyand and Lyand ought to be transposed: as the taunt, Young man, I think ye're lyand, would be very characteristical. Yet she was coye, and would not believe Noe nor at any time would she But when his friendes did understand 5 10 |