THE GLEN COLLECTION OF SCOTTISH MUSIC

Presented by Lady DOROTHEA RUGGLES - Brise to

the National Library of Scotland, in memory of her
brother, Major Lord George Stewart Murray,
Black Watch, killed in action in France in 1914.

28th January 1927.

•*

Li m u.
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•acollectioM

HighlainTd

& NGS

Arranged, amments,

Q/vvSOlsI-e

SRoddie

LOGAN & CO., Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

CHAPPELL & CO., 50 New Bond Street, London; PATERSON
& SONS, Musicsellers to the Queen, Edinburgh, and at Glasgow,
Paisley, Perth, Ayr, and Dumfries; METHVEN, SIMPSON, & CO.,
Musicsellers to the Queen, Dundee, and at St. Andrews; JAMES
MACBETH, Aberdeen.
ENT. STA. HALL.

^OF SCOTLAND
/St-.,. .oriVA,
 The “Lays of the Heather” will

be published in separate form (price

is. 6d. net, each) and can be had from

Logan & Co., Inverness, Aberdeen,

and Elgin; Chappell & Co., London,

and all Musicsellers.

 INDEX

TITLE WORDS BY MUSIC ARRANGED BY PAGE

Ae’ Fond Kiss. Ancient Gaelic Air Robert Burns John Thomson 175
Alas for Me .... John Campbell . W. S. Roddie 19
Och mar tha mi Translation by Pattis on
Auld Scotia’s Sangs . John hnlah . John Thomson 187
Banks of Loch Lomond A Lady John Thomson 171
Banks of the Dee, The John Tait . John Thomson 183
Blanche’s Song. Lady of the Lake . Sir Walter Scott . John Thomson 161
They Bid me sleep
Boatman, The Unknown W. S. Roddie 179
Fear a bhata Translation by L. Macbean .
Bonnie Burn, The W. A. Sloan. . . John Thomson 157
Burnside, The Unknown . . . John Thomson 49
Bonnie Lizzie Baillie . From Herd's Collection 1776 John Thomson 149
Braes o’ Balquhidder . Tannahill . . . John Thomson 145
Dark Haired Youth, The Unknown . . . W. S. Roddie 167
An gille dubh, ciar dhubh Translation by Pattison
Fair Young Mary Duncan Ban Macintyre . W. S. Roddie 153
Mairi Bhan Og Translation by Pattison
Farewell to Fiunary . A. Sinclair . . . W. S. Roddie 141
Fion Airidh Translation by Rev. Dr. Norman M‘Leod
Gartmore Braes /. Chirrey . . . John Thomson 137
He’s a cronie o’ mine . A. Maclagan . . John Thomson 125
Highland Laddie Ramsay . . . John Thomson 133
How blythely the Pipe Joseph MacGregor . . W. S. Roddie 101
I Love the Highlands . John Campbell . . W. S. Roddie 9
Is toigh learn a Ghaidhealtachd Translation by John Stuart Blackie
I’ll Sorrow no more Dr M‘Lachlan . . John Thomson 117
Cha bhi mi gad’ chaoidh Translation by Henry White
Isle of the Heather, The M. Macleod . . . W. S. Roddie 69
Eilean an Fhraoich Translation by Henry White
Kiss ahint the door, The Thomas C. Latto , . John Thomson 121
Lass that rowed me o’er the Ferry, The Nether Lochaber . . John Thomson 5
Lovely Mary .... John Macdonald . . W. S. Roddie 129
Mairi Laghach . Translation by Nigel MlNeill
Maclean’s Gathering . Miss Ross . . . John Thomson
IV INDEX.
TITLE WORDS BY MUSIC ARRANGED BY PAGE
MacCrimmon’s Lament John Stuart Blackie W. S. Roddie 199
Maiden of Mull D. Livingston W. S. Roddie 105
Maighdeann Mhuile Translation by Nigel MNeill
May Song . • . • John Stuart Blackie John Thomson
l
Melody of Love Mrs Mackenzie & E. M Lachlan John Thomson 93
Ealaidh Ghaoil Translation by Ewen MtLachlan
Monaltrie .... John Thomson 29
My Faithful Fair One Maclean W. S. Roddie 8l
Mo run geal dileas Translation by Henry White
My Hawk is tired. Lady of the Lake Sir Walter Scott 89
Jolm Thomson
My Nut-Brown Maiden Sinclair W. S. Roddie 57
Ho ro mo nighean donn Bhoidheach Translation by John Stuart Blackie
Nora’s Vow .... Sir Walter Scott John Thomson 97 .
Now Spring has clad the Grove in Green Robert Burns John Thomson 77
Oh, Happy may I see thee Evan Mackenzie W. S. Roddie 45
Gu ma slan a chi mi Translation by Nigel MNeill
Old Scotland .... George Allan John Thomson 85
Out over the Forth Robert Burns W. S. Roddie 73
Praise of Islay, The Unknown W. S. Roddie 21
Moladh na Landaidh . Translation by Pattison
Sailor Lad at Sea Nether Lochaber John Thomson 53
Sea Mew, The Jolm Wilson John Thomson 4i
Ho’ro Mairi Dhu
Soldier Rest. Lady of the Lake Sir Walter Scott John Thomson 61
Sons of the Highlanders John Imlah . John Thomson' . 109
Song of Death Robert Burns John Thomson 195
Song of Glen Lui Beg John Stuart Blackie . John Thomson 65
Wake, Maid of Lome. Lord of the Isles Sir Walter Scott Sir John Stevenson 113
Warning, The. Lady of the Lake Sir Walter Scott John Thomson 13
We’ll go to Sea no more Misses Corbett John Thomson 37
We will take the good old way John Breck M' Kendrick W. S. Roddie . 33
Gabhaidh sinn an rathad mor . Translation by Nether Lochaber
Wilt thou be my dearie Robert Burns 25
The Macleans Gathering.
 1
The Maclean’s Gathering.

Words by Music by
Miss Ross. JOHN Thomson.
Tempo di Marcia Allegro.
2
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The heath-bell at rnorn so proud_ly you trod, Son of the mountainlnow cov_ers thy sod;

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2.
Wildly the war-cry has startled the stag*,
And waken’d the echoes of Gillian’s lone crag*.
Up hill and down gden each brave mountaineer
Has belted his plaid and has mounted his spear.
Then follow, etc.
3.
The sig*nal is heard from mountain to shore,
They rush like the flood o’er dark Corry-vohr,
The war note is sounding*, loud, wildly and hig*h,
Louder they shout, On! to conquer or die.
Then follow, etc.
THE MACLEAN’S GATHERING.

T) ANNERS are waving o’er Morven’s dark heath,

Claymores are flashing from many a sheath ;
Hark! ’tis the gath’ring ; On, onward! they cry;
Far flies the signal to conquer or die.
Then follow thee, follow a boat to the sea,
Thy Prince in Glen Moidart is waiting for thee ;
Where war-pipes are sounding and banners are free,
Maclean and his clansmen the foremost you’ll see.

Wildly the war-cry has startled the stag,

And waken’d the echoes of Gillian’s lone crag,
Up hill and down glen each brave mountaineer
Has belted his plaid and has mounted his spear.
Then follow, etc.

The signal is heard from mountain to shore,

They rush like the flood o’er dark Corry-vohr,
The war-note is sounding, loud, wildly and high,
Louder they shout, On! to conquer or die.
Then follow, etc.

The heath-bell at morn so proudly you trod,

Son of the mountain ! now covers thy sod ;
Wrapt in your plaid, ’mid the bravest ye lie,
The words as ye fell, still “ Conquer or die.”
Then follow, etc.
 5

The Lass that rowed me

o'er the Ferry.

 6

The Lass that rowed Me o’er the Ferry.

Words by • Music by
Nether Locha^er. John Thomson.

piano.

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 7

Then stepp’d we two into the boat,

And she alone to gaiide our wherry!
Unskilful all was I, and old
The Lass she rowed me o’er the Ferry.
Rig*ht skilfully she plied the oars,
And met the blustering’ waves so wary!
Oft from her locks the salt sea spray
She shook, as row’d she o’er the Ferry.
3.
And when we reach’d the further side,
I asked her name; she answered Mary;”
I kiss’d her cheek and bless’d the while
The Lass that rowed me o’er the Fferry.
£
^\nd wilt thou g’o with me?” I asked,
She answered “No, sir, I maun tarry;
My father’s old and frail, and I
Maun stay to row folks o’er the Ferry.”
4.
I g-ave her then a piece of gold;
May God protect and bless thee, Mary”
I said, and lingering, waved adieu,
As she rowed back across the Fbrry.
Her eyes were of the deepest blue,
Her lips were red as rowan berry,
Her skin was whiter than the snow,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Fferry.
5.
If beauty, innocence, and truth,
Be wish’d for in the girl you’d marry,
Young men, you’ll find them all, and more,
In her who row’d me o’er the Fbrry.
Then Hostess mine! be pleas’d to bring
Of wines the best, some gold-bright sherry,
And I will toast with heart and soul,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Fbrry.
8 .

THE LASS THAT ROWED ME

O’ER THE FERRY.

GOOD Hostess mine be pleas’d to bring

Of wines the best, some gold-bright sherry.
That I may toast with right good will,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Ferry!
I ask’d for boat, I ask’d for men ;
She glanc’d at me with eye so merry,
Then sweetly blush’d, and curtseying low,
She said, “/’// row ye o’er the Ferry.”

Then stepp’d we two into the boat,

And she alone to guide our wherry!
Unskilful all was I, and old—
The Lass she row’d me o’er the Ferry.
Right skilfully she plied the oars,
And met the blustering waves so wary!
Oft from her locks the salt sea spray
She shook, as row’d she o’er the Ferry.

And when we reach’d the further side,

I asked her name ; she answered “ Mary ; ”
I kiss’d her cheek, and bless’d, the while,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Ferry.
“ And wilt thou go with me ? ” I asked,
She answered, “ No, sir, I maun tarry ;
My father’s old and frail, and 1
Maun stay to row folks o’er the Ferry.’’

I gave her then a piece of gold ;

“ May God protect and bless thee, Mary,”
I said, and lingering, waved adieu,
As she row’d back across the Ferry.
Her eyes were of the deepest blue,
Her lips were red as rowan berry,
Her skin was whiter than the snow,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Ferry.

If beauty, innocence, and truth,

Be wish’d for in the girl you’d marry,
Young men, you’ll find them all, and more,
In her who row’d me o’er the Ferry.
Then Hostess mine! be pleas’d to bring
Of wines the best, some gold-bright sherry,
And I will toast with heart and soul,
The Lass that row’d me o’er the Ferry.
 9

Is Toigb Leant d Ghaidhealtachd.

I Love the Highlands.

 10
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I LOVE THE HIGHLANDS.

Arranged by
W. S. RODDIE. Gaelic words by John Campbell.
With spirit. English translation by Professor Blackie.

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Is toigh leam a’ Ghaidh _ eal _ tachd, 's toigii loam gach gleann, (iach
My heart's in the High _ lands I love ev _ ry ghm, Each

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Is toigh leam ’n an deis’ iad o’m mullacli g'u'm boiin,
Am breacan, an t-osan,au sporan ’s am baim;
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Ach ’s suarach an deise seacli seasmhachd an cridh".
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Sheas iad an duthaieh’s ^aeh euis agms eas,
Duais-bhrathaidh cha ^habhadh ged chuirt’ iad gfu has;
S ged sharaieht’an spiorad’s ged leagte an ceann,
Blia ’n cridhe cho daingeann ri carraig- nam beann.
4th
Is toigh learn na h-igh’nagan ’s b’ ainneamh an t-am
Naeh bithinn ’n an cuideachd *n uair gheobhainn bhi ann
’s na’m faighinn-se te dhiubh a duthaieh mo ehridhi
Gu’n siubhlainn-se leatha gu ioiuall gaeh tir.
5th
Is toigh learn a’ Ghaidhlig, a bardaehd ’s a ceoi.
Is trie thog i nios sinn ’n uair bhiodhmaid f‘o leon,
S i dh’ionnsaieh sinn tra’ ann an laithean ar n-oig?
S nach fag sinn gu brath gus an laidh sinn fo'u fhoid.
6th
Nis tha duthaieh ar gaoil dol fo chaoirieh’s fo fheidh,
Sinn ga’r fuadaeh thar saile mar bharriach gun fheum;
Ach thigeadh an eruaidh-ehas, ’s co sheasas an stoirm?
o, co ach na balaich le ’m boineidean tform!
7th
Canar an gaisge ’s an domhan mu’n cuairt.
Air sgiathaibh na gaoithean ga sgaoileadh thar chuan,
As fhad’ ’s a bhios rioghachd na seasamh air fonn,
Bi'dh cuimhne gu dilinn air euehdan nan sonn.
IS TOIC'H LEAM .
A brave Highland boy. when light-looted he goes.
With plaid, and with kilt, dirk, sporan, and hose;
O, who will compare with my Highlander then.
When he comes fresh and fair like a breeze from the ben!
3 rd
When foemen were banded to spoil and annoy.
Who then fronted death like mv brave Highl and boy?
For his cause and his country, in battle’s rude shock.
When kingdoms were reeling, he stood like a rock.
4th
And the dear Highland lasses, bad luck to the day.
When I look in their faces and wish them away;
111 cross the wide seas to their far coral isles.
With Mary to brighten the road with her smiles.
3 th
And the songs ot the Gael on their pinions of fire,
How oft have they lifted my heart from the mire;
On the lap of my mother I lisped them to God;
Let them float round my grave, when I sleep ’neath the sod.
6^
But now with mere sheep they have peopled the brae.
And flung the brave clansmen like rubbish away.
But should foes we have vanquished the struggle renew,
rhey’ll sigh for the boys with the bonnets of blue!
7th
W^here the Fast and the West by broad billows are bounded
The Gael shall be known and his fame shall be sounded;
While thro nes shall have honour, and rig'ht shall prevail,
Loud ages shall echo the praise ol the Gael.
 12

IS TOIGH LEAM A’ GHAIDHEALTACHD.

I Love the Highlands.

S toigh leam ’a Ghaidhealtachd, ’s toigh leam gach gleann, heart’s in the Highlands, 1 love every glen,
Gach eas agns coirc an duthaich nam beann; Each corrie and crag in the land of the ben;
Is toigh leam na gillean ’nan eideadh, glan, nr, Each brave kilted laddie, stout-hearted and true,
A’s boincid Ghlinngaraidh mu’n camagan dluth. With rich curly locks ’neath his bonnet of blue.

Is toigh leam ’n an deis’ iad o’m mullach gu’m bonn, A brave Highland boy, when light-footed.he goes,
Am breacan, an tosan, an sporan’s am bann; With plaid, and with kilt, dirk, sporan and hose;
Is toigh leam iad sgeadaicht’ an eideadh an tir, O, who will compare with my Highlander then.
Ach’s suarach an deise seach seasmhachd en cridh’. When he comes fresh and fair like a breeze from the ben !

Sheas iad an duthaich’s gach cuis agus cas, When foemen were banded to spoil and annoy,
Duais-bhrathaidh cha ghabhadh ged chuirt’ iad gu bas; Who then fronted death like my brave Highland boy ?
’S ged sharaicht’ an spiorad’s gcd leagte an ceann, For his cause and his country, in battle’s rude shock,
Bha ’n cri'dhe cho daingeann ri carraig nain beann. When kingdoms were reeling, he stood like a rock.

Is toigh leam na h-igh’nagan’s b’ ainneamh an t-am And the dear Highland lasses, bad luck to the day
Nach bithinn ’n an cuideachd ’n uasr gheobhainn bhi ann, When I look in their /aces 'and wish them away;
’S na’m faighinn-se te dhiubh a duthaich mo chridh’, I’ll cross the wide seas to their far coral isles,.
Gu’n siubhlainn-se leatha gu iomall gach tir. With Mary to brighten the road with her smiles.

Is toigh leam a’ Ghaidhlig, a bardachd’s a ceol, And the songs of the Gael on their pinions of fire,
Is trie thog i nios sinn ’n uair bhiodhmaid fo leon, How oft have they lifted my heart from the mire;
’S i dh’ionnsaich sinn tra’ ann an laithean ar n-oig’, On the lap of my mother I lisped them to God;
’S nach fag sinn gu brath gus an laidh sinn fo’n fhoid. Let them float round my grave, when I sleep ’neath the sod.

Nis tha duthaich ar gaoil dol fo chaoinch’s fo fheidh, But now with mere sheep they have peopled the brae,
Sinn ga’r fuadach thar saile mar bharrlach gun fheum ; And flung the brave clansmen like rubbish away;
Ach thigeadh an cruaidh-chas, ’s co sheasas an stoirm ? Why should foes we have vanquished the struggle renew,
O, co ach na balaich le’m boineidean gorm ! They’ll sigh for the boys with the bonnets of blue !

Canar an gaisge’s an domhan mu’n cuairt, Where the East and the West by broad billows are bounded.
Air sgiathaibh na gaoithean ga sgaoileadh thar chuan, The Gael shall be known and his fame shall be sounded;
A’s fhad’ ’s a bhios rioghachd na seasamh air fonn, While thrones shall have honour, and right shall prevail,
Bi’dh cuimhue gu dilinn air euchdan nan sonn. Loud ages shall echo the praise of the Gael.
The Warning.

(from THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

14

The Warning-.

From the “Lady of the Lake”

Words by Arranged by
Sir Walter Scott. Bart. John Thomson.

Moderate.
voice. S
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It was a stag', a stag- of ten. Bear, ing- his bran _ ches stur _ di.ly;.

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It was there he met with a wounded doe,
She was bleeding- deathfully;
She warn’d him of the toils below,
O so faithfully, faithfully:
He had an eye, and he could heed
Ever sing- warily, warily;
He had a foot, and he could speed
Hunters watch so narrowly
He had an eye, and he could heed
Hunters watch so narrowly.
 THE WARNING.
(from THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

toils are pitch’d and the stakes are set,

Ever sing merrily, merrily ;
The bows they bend and the knives they whet,
Hunters live so cheerily.
It was a stag, a stag of ten,
Bearing his branches sturdily ;
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.

It was there he met with a wounded doe,

She was bleeding deathfully ;
She warn’d him of the toils below,
O so faithfully, faithfully.
He had an eye, and he could heed,
Ever sing warily, warily ;
He had a foot, and he could speed,
Hunters watch so narrowly.
He had an eye, and he could heed,
Hunters watch so narrowly.
 i7

May Song.
18

May Song.

Words by Music by
John Stuart Blackie J. Thomson.

piano.

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 19
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2.
Where the dark old pine, in the bright sunshine.
Its fresh green tips is trimming;
Where the light feathered throng, with the airy song
Of full throated glee are brimming;
Away! away! away!
The lusty May,
Let us with them be hymning!
3.
Where the bright blue sky, on the pinnacle high
Of dark Lochnagar, rests clearly;
Wliere snows no more wreathe the frontlets hoar
Of black Ben-Awn* so drearly;
Away! away! away!
Hymn the lusty May,
Where the streams are bickering cheerly!
4.
Like a ruddy faced boy, with a vagabond joy,
When the long school term is over;
Like a hright-haired lassie, with a light-tossed curl,
When she runs to meet her lover;
Away! away! away!
So may the lusty May,
Still find me a lusty rover!

* Written as pronounced, but properly spelled Avon.

20

MAY SONG.

/^VER the brown heath far, by the steep red scaur,

Where the yellow furze bloom is glowing,
When the keen cold East, and the North hath ceas’d,
And the soft-wing’d South is blowing ;
Away ! away ! away !
Where bright shines the May,
And the fields are green with growing.

Where the dark old pine, in the bright sunshine,

Its fresh green tips is trimming ;
Where the light-feathered throng, with the airy song
Of full-throated glee are brimming ;
Away ! away ! away!
The lusty May, . . . .
Let us with them be hymning!

Where the bright blue sky, on the pinnacle high

Of dark Lochnagar, rests clearly ;
Where snows no more wreathe the frontlets hoar
Of black Ben-Awn * so drearly ;
Away! away ! away !
Hymn the lusty May,
Where the streams are bickering cheerly!

Like a ruddy-faced boy, with a vagabond joy,

When the long school term is over ;
Like a bright-haired lassie, with a light-tossed curl,
When she runs to meet her lover;
Away ! away ! away !
So may the lusty May
Still find me a lusty rover!

* Written as pronounced, but properly spelled Avon.

Moladh na .Landaidh

The Praise of Islay.

22
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THE PRAISE OF ISLAY.

Translation bv
Arrang-ed by
PATTISON." W S. RODD1E.

PI.4JYO.

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Chi mi thall ud an Aird-mhor, Ai _ te ,choi_lic*h dhuibh is gheoidh Ait’_ mo
I see a _ far yon hill Ardmore,The beating bil_lows wash its shore But, ah! its

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ch ri _ dhe is mo ghaoil, Far'n rohh mi ao _ trom, ain _ meil.
beau _ ties bloom no more For me, no more in Is _ lay.

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 23
1
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f f I s d ,,d 11 I d
d1 .,d‘ i dl • ,s s •,s f i m
f .,f , m ,,d m .,d Si

J5 .r
r l r • $
"T^T r
ieh, ho Gu bheil run ’s an Lan _ daidh.
can smile With gold beams on Is _ lay.

^ ^ ^ ^ i

f i
r

m
mmm i

2‘L(i
’S ged tha ’n Landaidh creagach, ciar,
•’S moch a dh’eireas oirre "ghrian;
Innis nani ba-laoigh’s nam fiadh,
’S gu ’m b’e mo mbiann bbi tbali ann.
Ho ro, dec.
3Ld
’S trie a leag mi air a’ bhruaich
Earba ghlas a’ mhuineil ruaidh;
Bhiodh an liath-chearc learn a nuas,
A’s coileach ruadh an dranndainn.
Ho ro, dec.
4th
O! mo ghaol air He ’n fheoir,
Far an d’ fhuair mi m’ arach og;
Far am bheil na h-uaislean coir—
Bu toil leo ceol a‘s dannsadh.
Ho ro, <fce.
2nJ1
There eagles rise on soaring wing,
And herons watch the gushing spring;
And heath-cocks, with their whirring, bring
Their own delight to Islay.
Oh! my Island, dec.
3 rd
Though Islay’s shore is rocky, drear,
Early doth the sun appear
On leafy brake and fallow deer,
And flocks and herds in Islay.
Oh! my Island, dec.
4_th
O my Island! O my Isle!
O my dear, my native soil!
From thee no scene my heart can wile
That’s wed with love to Islay.
Oh! my Island, <fec.
24
MOLADH
The Praise of Islay.
HI mi thall ud an Airdmhor,
Aite ’choilich dhuibh is gheoidh,
Ait’-mo chridhe is mo ghaoil,
Far’n robh mi aotrom, ainmeil.
H o ro Eilein-ich, ho gu,
Ho i rithil ho i thu,
H o ro Eilein-ich, ho gu,
Gu bheil mo run’s an Landaidh.
’S ged tha ’n Landaidh creagach, ciar,
’S moch a dh’eireas oirre ’ghrian ;
Innis nam ba-laoigh’s nam fiadh,
’S gu’m b’e mo mhiann bhi thall ann.
Ho ro, etc.
’S trie a leag mi air a’ bhruaich
Earba ghlas a’ mhuineil ruaidh ;
Bhiodh an liath-chearc learn a nuas,
A’s coileach ruadh an dranndainn.
Ho ro, etc.
O! mo ghaol air He ’n fheoir,
Far an d’ fhuair mi m’ arach og ;
Far am bheil na h-uaislean coir—
Bu toil leo ceol a’s dannsadh.
Ho ro, etc.
NA LANDAIDH.
J SEE afar yon hill Ardmore,
The beating billows wash its shore,
But, ah! its beauties bloom no more
For me, no more in Islay.
Oh! my Island, Oh! my Isle,
Oh ! my dear, my native soil!
Again the rising sun can smile
With golden beams on Islay.
There eagles rise on soaring wing,
And herons watch the gushing spring ;
And heath-cocks, with their whirring, bring
Their own delight to Islay.
Oh ! my Island, etc,
Though Islay’s shore is rocky, drear,
Early doth the sun appear
On leafy brake and fallow deer,
And flocks and herds in Islay.
Oh! my Island, etc.
O my Island ! O my Isle!
O my dear, my native soil!
From thee no scene my heart can wile
That’s wed with love to Islay.
Oh ! my Island, etc.
 25

Wilt Thou be my Dearie.

26

Wilt thou be my Dearie.

Words by
Robert Burns.
 27
d m : m. si si 1 . m : r ., d : r . mt s I 1 : 1 . 1

.V ^ £ i
m
By the trea _ sure of my soul, That’s the love I bear thee, I
If it win _ na can na be. Thou for thine may choose me.

j'rrg'1 ir1 r-1

m
m

i m
20

WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE.

ILT thou be my dearie ?

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
0 wilt thou let me cheer thee ?
By the treasure of my soul,
That’s the love 1 bear thee,
1 swear and vow that only thou
Shalt ever be my dearie.
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shalt ever be my dearie.

Lassie, say thou lo’es me,

O if thou wilt not be my ain,
O say na thou’lt refuse me :
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.
Monaltrie
30

Monaltr ie.

Arranged by
OLD BALLAD John Thomson.
Key D.
Andante. % m

voice.
Hark!
Horns in distance.

pi m
m f
PIANO. P mp n
(f

ms
Vi*' f

m . r : d r . m. I s : m' ' m1 . r1 : d1 rl. ml

 31

wake! Mon _ al _ trie.

REFRAIN.

2.
One word to his fair bride,
Who’s smiling* at his side;
He may no long*er bide;
Away Monaltrie.
3.
She singes in her lone bower,
At evening’^ pleasant hour,
The night shade’s o’er her lower:
Return Monaltrie.
4.
What cries of wild despair
Awake the sultry air,
Frenzied with anxious care
She seeks Monaltrie.
5.
The high rocks frowning shade
Are round his lowly bed,
And wild flowers there are shed
On young Monaltrie.
6.
That night, by his side
Reposed his lovely bride
Fair Agnes there has died
For young Monaltrie.
32

MONALTRIE.

T TARK ! hark ! it is the horn,

A
On mountain breezes borne,
Awake ! it is the morn,
Awake ! Monaltrie.

One word to his fair bride,

Who’s smiling at his side ;
He may no longer bide ;
Away Monaltrie.

She sings in her lone bower,

At evening’s pleasant hour,
The night shades o’er her lower :
Return Monaltrie.

What cries of wild despair

Awake the sultry air,
Frenzied with anxious care
She seeks Monaltrie.

The high rocks’ frowning shade

Are round his lowly bed,
And wild flowers there are shed
On young Monaltrie.

That night, by his side

Reposed his lovely bride ;
Fair Agnes there has died
For young Monaltrie.
 33

Gabhaidh sinn an Rathad Mor.

We will take the Good Old Way.

 34
Q/aSiKiaaSffJ ssJjJjJ f)Jl

* WE WILL TAKE THE GOOD OLD WAY.

Arranged by Words bj JOHN BRECK M? KENDRICK.
W. S. RODDIE. Translation by Nether Loehaber!'
Spiritedly.
-S
^ iJ- i
PIjUSTO.

4 % l %
KEY G. mm
(m) I m.d:d., rlm.drm (m) I f . r : r ml f . r : f (f)
V |V fe-
- J-
Efe
Ole no math le Cloinn-an-t-saoir 01c no math le Cloinn—an—t—saoir
Let Mae_In-lyres say what they may, Let Mae-In—tyres say what they mayWfe'l

j j j ^—*4 1*1

$
 35
1 I I m f s d m d I r d
m f m r I d r m d d d I tt d
d d d d I d d d m ID I f m
d! d, d, d, I d, dt d, Si s, I s, d

Diridh sinn ri beinn an fhraoich, Up the steep and heathery ben,

Tearnaidh sinn le crleann nan langh;
’S cha ’n eil fear de luchd-nam-braosg
Nacb leig sinn gaoir a mhaileid!
Gabbaidh sinn, tfcc.
3r_(1
Thar a’ mhonaidh null ’nar sgriob,
Sios Gleann Coinhann air bheag sgios;
Marsaidh sinn ’an ainin an Righ
Ole no math le each e.
Gabhaidh sinn, dec.
4th
Gu Mac-’ic-Alasdair’s Lochial,
Bi'dh iad leinn mar bha iad riamh,
’S Fear-na-Ceapaich mar ar miann,
Ole no math le each siod!
Gabhaidh sinn, dee.
Doun the bonny winding glen,
We march,a band of loyal men,
Let them say their will 0!
We will take dec.
3inl
We will march adoun Glencoe,
We will march adoun Glencoe,
By the Ferry we will go,
Let them say their will O!
We will take dee.
4_tji
To Glengarry and Lochiel,
Loyal hearts,witli arms of steel,
These will back you in the field,
Let them say their will O!
We will take dec.

Thig Cloinn-a-Phearsoin—feachd naiu buadh,
’S thig Cloinn-Choinnich o’n Taobh-tuath;
’S mairg an dream do’n nochd iad fuath,
’N uair dh ’eireas gruaim nam blar orr’!
Gabhaidh sinn, dee.
eth
Thig Clann-Ghriogair garg ’san stri
Thig Clann-an-Aba,-’s Sluagh an Righ;
Marsaibh uallach—suas i, phiob!
Ole no math le each e.
Gabhaidh sinn, dee.
Cluny will come doun the brae,
Keppoch bold will lead the w'ay,
Toss thine antlers, Caber Feigh,
Let them say their will O!
We will take dire.
6th
Forward, sons of bold Rob Roy,
Stewarts — contlict is your joy,
We’ll stand together, pour le Roy,
Let them say their will O!
We will take dec.

CABHAIDH SINN AN RATHAD MOR.

36
GABHAIDH SINN
We will take the Good Old Way.*
OLC no math le Cloinn-an-t-saoir,
Ole no math le Cloinn-an-t-saoir,
Ole no math le Cloinn-an-t-saoir,
’S bod-aich mhaol an lag-ain.
Gabhaidh sinn an rathad mor,
Gabhaidh sinn an rathad mor,
Gabhaidh sinn an rathad mbr
Ole no math le each e.
Diridh sinn ri beinn an fhraoich,
Tearnaidh sinn le gleann nan laogh ;
’S cha ’n eil fear de luchd-nam-braosg
Nach leig sinn gaoir a mhaileid !
Gabhaidh sinn, etc.
Thar a’ mhonaidh null ’nar sgriob,
Sios Gleann Comhann air bheag sgios ;
Marsaidh sinn ’n ainm an Righ
Ole no math le each e.
Gabhaidh sinn, etc.
Gu Mac-’is-Alasdair ’s Lochial,
Bi’dh iad leinn mar bha iad riamh,
’S Fear-na-Ceapaich mar ar miann,
Ole no math le each siod !
Gabhaidh sinn, etc.
Thig Cloinn-a-Phearsoin—feachd nam buadh,
’S thig Cloinn-Choinnich o’n Taobh-tuath ;
’S mairg an dream do’n nochd iad fuath,
’N uair dh ’eireas gruaim nam blar orr’!
Gabhaidh sinn, etc.
Thig Clann-Ghriogair garg ’san stri—
Thig Clann-an-Aba,- s Sluagh an Righ ;
Marsaibh uallach—suas i, phioh !
Ole no math le each e.
Gabhaidh sinn, etc.
* Begin with the Chorus.
AN RATHAD MOR.
LET MacIntyres say what they may,
Let MacIntyres say what they may,
We’ll take and keep the good old way
Let them say their will O !
We will take the good old way,
We will take the good old way,
We’ll take and keep the good old way
Let them say their will, O !
Up the steep and heathery ben,
Doun the bonny winding glen,
We march, a band of loyal men,
Let them say their will O !
We will take, etc.
We will march adoun Glencoe,
We will march adoun Glencoe,
By the Ferry we will go,
Let them say their will O !
We will take, etc.
To Glengarry and Lochiel,
Loyal hearts, with arms of steel,
These will back you in the field,
Let them say their will O !
We will take, etc.
Cluny will come doun the brae,
Keppoch bold will lead the way,
Toss thine antlers, Caber Feigh,
Let them say their will O !
We will take, etc.
Forward, sons of bold Rob Roy,
Stewarts—conflict is your joy,
We’ll stand together, pour le Roy,
Let them say their will O !
We will take, etc.
 37

IVell go to Sea no more.

38
We’ll go to Sea no more.
 2. 3.
I’ve seen the waves as blue as air, I never liked the landsman’s life.
I’ve seen them green as grassj The earth is aye the samej
But I never feared their heaving* yet Gi’e me the ocean for my dower.
From Grang-emouth to the Bass. My vessel for my hame.
I’ve seen the sea as black as pitch. Gi’e me the fields that no man ploug*hs.
I’ve seen it white as snow- The farm that pays no fee$
But I never feared its foaming* yet, Gi’e me the bonnie fish that gdance
Thougdi the winds blew hig*h or low. Sae gdadly throug*h the sea.
When squalls capsize our iron walls, When sails hang* flapping* on the masts,
When the French ride at the Nore Thoug*h, throug*h the waves we snore;
When Leith meets Aberdour half way, When in a calm we’re tempest toss’d
We’ll g*o to sea no more,no more. We’ll g*o to sea no more, no more.
We’ll g*o to sea no more. We’ll g*o to sea no more.
4.
The sun is up, and round Inchkeith,
The breezes saftly blaw;
The g*udeman has the lines on board
Awa^ my bairns awa’I
And ye’ll be back by gdoaming* gray.
And brigdit the fire will low;
And in our tales and sang*s we’ll tell
How weel the boat ye row*.
When life’s last sun g*ang*s feebly doun.
And death comes to our door
When a’ the world’s a dream to us.
We’ll go to sea no more, no more.
We’ll go to sea no more.
WE’LL GO TO SEA NO MORE

OH ! blythely shines the bonny sun

Upon the Isle of May,
And blythely comes the morning tide
Into St. Andrew’s Bay;
Then up, guidman—the breeze is fair,
And up my braw bairns three—
There’s goud in yonder bonnie boat
That sails so well the sea !
When baddies leave the Firth of Forth,
And mussels leave the shore ;
When oysters climb up Berwick Law,
We’ll go to sea no more, no more,
We’ll go to sea no more.
I’ve seen the waves as blue as air,
I’ve seen them green as grass j
But I never feared their heaving yet
From Grangemouth to the Bass.
I’ve seen the sea as black as pitch,
I’ve seen it white as snow;
But I never feared its foaming yet,
Though the winds blew high or low.
When squalls capsize our iron walls,
When the French ride at the Nore,
When Leith meets Aberdour half-way,
We’ll go to sea no more, no more,
We’ll go to sea no more.
I never liked the landsman’s life,
The earth is aye the same;
Gi’e me the ocean for my dower,
My vessel for my hame.
Gi’e me the fields that no man ploughs,
The farm that pays no fee;
Gi’e me the bonnie fish that glance
Sae gladly through the sea.
When sails hang flapping on the masts,
Though through the waves we snore;
When in a calm we’re tempest-toss’d,
We’ll go to sea no more, no more,
We’ll go to sea no more.
The sun is up, and round Inchkeith
The breezes saftly blaw;
The gudeman has the lines on board—
Awa’, my bairns, awa’!
And ye’ll be back by gloaming gray,
And bright the fire will low;
And in our tales and songs we’ll tell
How weel the boat ye row.—
When life’s last sun gangs feebly doun,
And death comes to our door—
When a’ the world’s a dream to us,
We’ll go to sea no more, no more,
We’ll go to sea no more.
The Sea Mew.
42
The Sea Mew.
Air_ Ho ro Mhairi Dhu.
 43

r :—: d I d :
7 H
turn to me!

J-tt-j n j~n 5
:
l't ^
«/*

m I £

Oh! once smiled my dwelling1 cheerily, cheerily,

Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
Tho’ wild waves were swelling drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
In the rock-girdled bay, as I anchored my skiff,
A sweet voice would singr from the top of the cliff;
E’er the last notes w ere over.
She sprang to her lover,
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
3.
The desert is sounding drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
The red deer is bounding cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
Away to his lair in the forest so deep,
Where his hind with her fawns is lying asleep,
On green mossy pillow,
Like summer sea billow;
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
4.
Oh! green rose our sheiling, cheerily, cheerily.
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
Thro’trees half concealing, dreamily, dreamily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
At night, like a deer thro’ the forest I flew,
Till I saw the tall smoke-wreath in heav’n so blue;
On the soft tender lawn there,
My sweet hind and fawn there,
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
5.
To his nest, thro’ winds roaring drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
The Sea-mew is soaring cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
He sits in that nest, by his loves downy breast!
But where is the bosom so oft I have prest?
Her plumes torn and dim,
And hush’d that sweet hymn!
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
6.
The wild deer is flying cheerily, cheerily.
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
His hind he sees lying drearily, drearily.
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
In fondness the fair creature lifts up her head!
But where hath my hind and her little ones fled?
Hark! hark! what deep sighing!
In the dell they are dying!
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu! turn to me!
44
THE SEA
* *HE stars are all burning cheerily, cheerily !
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
The sea mew is mourning drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
High is his home on the cliff’s naked breast;
But warm is her plumage that blesseth his nest!
The ice winds ne’er blow there,
And soft falls the snow there;
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
Oh ! once smiled my dwelling cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
Tho’ wild waves were swelling drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
In the rock-girdled bay, as I anchored my skiff,
A sweet voice would sing from the top of the cliff;
E’er the last notes were over
She sprang to her lover,
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me 1
The desert is sounding drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
The red deer is bounding cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
Away to his lair in the forest so deep,
Where his hind with her fawns is lying asleep,
On green mossy pillow,
lake summer sea billow;
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me!
MEW.
Oh ! green rose our sheiling, cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
Thro’ trees half concealing, dreamily, dreamily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
At night, like a deer thro’ the forest I flew,
Till I saw the tall smoke-wreath in heav’n so blue;
On the soft tender lawn there,
My sweet hind and fawn there,
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
To his nest, through winds roaring drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
The sea-mew is soaring cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
He sits in that nest, by his love’s downy breast!
But where is the bosom so oft I have prest ?
Her plumes torn and dim,
And hush’d that sweet hymn !
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
The wild deer is flying cheerily, cheerily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
His hind he sees lying drearily, drearily,
Ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
In fondness the fair creature lifts up her head !
But where hath my hind and her little ones fled ?
Hark ! hark ! what deep sighing !
In the dell they are dying!
O, ho ro Mhairi Dhu ! turn to me !
Gu ma slan a chi mi.

Oh, Happy may I see Thee.

 (3® Ga& i3[i&K] Si (S5][l Ellk

OH HAPPY IV1AY I SEE THEE.

Arranged by Gaelic by Evan M9 Kenzie.

Specially translated for the publisher
W S. RODDIE.
of this work by Nigel Mac Neill.

d. d I r :—. d1 It d‘ 1 :—. s I m s I 1 : — | — : d1
¥
Bean a’ ohuai _ lein reidh air an deis a dh’ei_readh fonn; Si
git I with flow _ ing tres _ ses In pret _ tysmiles ar _ rayed Oft

V' ^ -j m • i
i

j , J. .H

m| s : 1. t I d1 I t . d1 I 1 . m :—. s I 1 : — d1
3
I dobheoil a’s binn, learn, nuairbhith easm'inn_ tinn.trom,
oainnt ’S tu
was mrysoul up - lift ed By words thy lips have said; And
1
i - J- I
P

£:
 47

s :—. 1 I s : m 11 I s :—. f m.d 1, •'—. ti I d :— | — jj

-0 ; 1
thog _ adh suas mo chridh nuair a bhidhtu bruidh _ inn num.
oft thy strains of glad _ ness My swelling heart a I _ layed.

&
i % m

: t- Fl-g: m^ 331
f ~nr^

# #-

2n_d 2ILd
Gur muladach a ta mi, This night to me how dreary
S mi nochd air aird a’chiiain, Up on the ocean tide!
S neo-shunndach mo ohadal domh, My slumber is full cheerless
S do chaidreamh fada uam; While for thee oft I've sio»h'd.
o
Gor trio mi ort it smaointeaoli; Apart from thee I sorrow;
As t'aoo^ais
o tha mi truafTh;
o 7 My thoughts are at thy side;_
S mar a dean mi dfhaotainn I waste away in anguish
Cha bhi mo shaoghal buan. Till thou become my bride.
3rd
Soil chorraoh mar an dearcag, Warm eyes are thine like berries
Fo rosg a db’ iadhas dlu; With lashes sweetly lined;
Gruaidhean mar an caoran, Fresh cheeks are thine like rowans.
Fo ’n aodann tba learn oinin; With loveliness enshrined.
Aidicheam le eibbneas My heart is filled with fondness
Gun d’ thuir mi fein duit run; For one so true and kind;
S gur bliadhna learn gach la And ever since I left thee
O'n uair a dh’fhag mi thu. The days like years I find.
4th
Theire;idh iad ma ’n d’ fhalbh mi uat, Twas said I shunn’d thee, dearest.
Gu ’m bu sbearbh leam dol ad choir Ere hither I was borne;
Gu’n do chuir mi cul riut, My kiss that I denied thee
S gun dhiult mi dhuit mo phog. While leaving thee forlorn.
Na ouireadh sid ort curam, Let no such tale, dear, grieve thee;
A ruin ’na creid an sgleo: Reject the:r speech with scorn;
Tha d’anail leam ni’s curaidh, Thy breath to me smells sweeter
Na’n driuchd air bharr an fheoir. Than dewy grass in morn.
48
GU MA
Oh, Happy May I see Thee.
GU ma slan a chi mi
Machailainn dileas donn!
Bean a’ chnailein reidh air
An deis a dh’eireadh fonn ;
’Si cainnt dobheoil a’s binn, leam,
Nuairbhith-eas m’inntinn, trom,
’S tu thogadh suas mo chridh nuair
A bhidh tu bruidhinn rium !
Gur muladach a ta mi,
’S mi nochd air aird a’ chuain,
’S neo-shunndach mo chadal domh,
’S do chaidreamh fadu uam ;
Gur trie mi ort a’ smaointeach ;
As t’ aogais tha mi truagh ;
’S mar a dean mi d’fhaotainn
Cha bhi mo shaoghal buan.
Suil chorrach mar an dearcag,
Fo rosg a dh’ iadhas dlu ;
Gruaidhean mar an caoran,
Fo ’n aodann tha leam ciuin ;
Aidicheam le eibhneas
Gun d’ thug mi fein duit run ;
’S gur bliadhna leam gach la
O’n uair a dh’fhag mi thu.
Theireadh iad ma ’n d’ fhalbh mi uat,
Gu’m bu shearbh leam dol ad choir
Gu’n do chuir mi cul rint,
’S gun dhiult mi dhuit mo phog.
Na cuireadh sid ort curam,
A ruin ’na creid an sgleo :
Tha d’anail leam ni’s curaidh,
Na’n driuchd air bharr an fheoir.
SLAN A CHI MI.
FULL happy may I see thee,
My faithful auburn maid !
Sweet girl with flowing tresses,
In pretty smiles arrayed.
Oft was my soul uplifted
By words thy lips have said ;
And oft thy strains of gladness
My swelling heart allayed.
This night to me how dreary
Upon the ocean tide!
My slumber is full cheerless
While for thee oft I’ve sighed.
Apart from thee I sorrow ;
My thoughts are at thy side ;—
I waste away in anguish
Till thou become my bride.
Warm eyes are thine, like berries,
With lashes sweetly lined ;
Sweet cheeks are thine, like rowans,
With loveliness enshrined.
My heart is filled with fondness
For one so true and kind ;
And ever since I left thee
The days like years I find.
’Twas said I shunn’d thee, dearest,
Ere hither I was borne ;
My kiss that I denied thee
While leaving thee forlorn.
Let no such tale, dear, grieve thee ;—
Reject their speech with scorn;—
Thy breath to me smells sweeter
Than dewy grass in morn.
The Burnside.
50

The Burnside.

m : ;^r . d I h . , tt : d . hi Si : d I : . d, r
 51
1
I m:f. s I i : d ., 1 I f_s . , m:r. d

Memory oft will fondly brood.

By yon Burnside,
On haunts which we so oft have trod.
On yon Burnside.
Still the walk with me thou’lt share,
Tho’ thy foot can never mair
Bend to earth the gowan fair,
Down by yon Burnside.
3.
Far removed from every care.
Above yon Burnside,
Thou bloom’st my love an ang-el fair.
Above yon Burnside,
And, if ang>els pity know,
Sure thy tears for me will flow,
Who must linger here below,
Down by yon Burnside.
 THE BURNSIDE.

O more we’ll meet again, my love,

By yon burnside ;
No more we’ll wander through the grove
By yon burnside ;
Ne’er again the mavis’ lay
Shall we hear at close of day,
For we never more shall stray
Down by yon burnside.

Memory oft will fondly brood,

By yon burnside,
On haunts which we so oft have trod
On yon burnside.
Still the walk with me thoul’t share,
Though thy foot can never mair
Bend to earth the gowan fair,
Down by yon burnside.

Far removed from every care,

Above yon burnside,
Thou bloom’st, my love, an angel fair,
Above yon burnside,
And, if angels pity know,
Sure thy tears for me will flow,
Who must linger here below,
Down by yon burnside.
"The Sailor Lad at Sea.
54

The Sailor Lad at Sea.

| Key Ak i
m1: d1 I 1 : t I d1:—I —:din. mm: ml s : m I r :— I —: r . r I d : d I t,. t,: 1,
CHORUS. 55
Tempo diValse.
: s 'l :—: d' I s :—: m ' r :—:— ' d :—: d I m : m I r :—: d I s :—:— I —: : s

1 :—: 1 l t :—: m I d’:—:— I t :—: 1 I s :—: m I r :—: m I d :—: —

rsi
2.
He gave me ribbons for my neck
And side-combs for my hair,
He gave me earrings for my ears
With pearl drops rich and rarej
No wonder that I love my lad
That’s sailing the salt sea.
0 winds! be kind to my true love.
And bring him back to me!
My love has gone &c.
3.
The live-long day I think of him
Who is my heart’s delight,
And if I think of him by day,
I dream of him by night;
1 see him still as he was wont
To come a-eourting me*.
O wandering winds and waves be kind
To Duncan far at sea !
My love has gone &c.
4.
When he returns from foreign lands.
My sailor lad so bold!
His cheeks embrown’d by foreign suns.
His pockets fill’d with gold,
I’ll greet my true love with a kiss.
And then we’ll married be
Of all the men the wide world round.
My sailor lad for me!
My love has gone &c.
THE SAILOR LAD AT SEA.

TWAS on a summer morn so bright,

The wind was fair and free,
That my love went a-sailing,
On the wide Atlantic sea.
In a big ship of three masts,
With a crew of thirty and three,
And O my heart will miss him sore
Till he returns to me.
My love has gone a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea ;
But western winds will find him,
And waft him back to me.

He gave me ribbons for my neck,

And side-combs for my hair,
He gave me earrings for my ears,
With pearl drops rich and rare ;
No wonder that I love my lad
That’s sailing the salt sea.
O winds! be kind to my true love,
And bring him back to me!
My love has gone, etc.

The live-long day I think of him

Who is my heart’s delight,
And if I think of him by day
I dream of him by night;
I see him still as he was wont
To come a-courting me.
O wandering winds and waves be kind
To Duncan far at sea!
My love has gone, etc.

When he returns from foreign lands,

My sailor lad so bold !
His cheeks embrowned by foreign suns,
His pockets filled with gold,
I’ll greet my true love with a kiss,
And then we’ll married be—
Of all the men the wide world round,
My sailor lad for me !
My love has gone, etc.
 57

Ho ro, mo Nigtin Dorm

Bhoidheach.

My Nut-brown Maiden.
58
S3© Si© 53® Kia©S]0Kl ©©53 53 S S3 ® 3 © S3 3 ft @SL

MY NUT BROWN MAIDEN. Words by Sinclair.

 59
s : s m : s d : r m : —. m f : r d I—

m
£
chail_eag lagii_ach, bhoidh _ each Cha pho _ sainn ach thu.
ro my nut brown maid _ en, 0 she’s the maid for

i ... § i f' • "j

*J * *

j . r

2*?^
Cha cheil mi air an t-saoghal,
Gu bheil mo mhiann's mo ghaol ort;
S chaidh mi uait air faondradh,
Cha chaoehail mo run.
Ho ro, <fec.
3r<*
N uair bha mi ann ad lathair,
Bu shona bha mo laithean —
A’ sealbhaehadh do mhanrain,
A’s aille do ghnuis.
Ho ro, &c.
4.th
Gnuis ’aoidheil, bhanail, mhalda
Na h-oigh is eaoimhe nadur;
I suairce, ceanail, baigheil,
Lan grais agus maim.
Ho ro, <Sce.
5\^}
S ami tha mo run ’s na beanntaibh,
Far bheil mo ribhinn ghreannar,
M ar ros am fasaeh Shamhraidh,
An gleann tad’ o shuil.
Ho ro, <fce.
etb
Ach ’n uair a thig an Samhradh,
Bheir mise sgrib do ”n ghleann ud,
S gu ’n tog mi leam do ’n Ghalldachd,
Gu h-annsail, am flur.
Ho ro, <fcc.
2*?4
0 Mary, mild eyed Mary,
By land or on the sea;
Though time and tide may vary,
My heart beats true to thee.
Ho ro, <fcc.
3rd
With thy fair face before me
How sweetly flew the hour,
When all thy beauty o’er me
Came streaming in its power.
Ho ro, <fce.
4th
The face with hindness glowing.
The face that hides no guile,
The light grace of thy going
The witchcraft of thy smile.
Ho ro, <fec.
Mine eyes that never vary
From pointing to the glen
Where blooms my Highland Mary
Like wild rose neath the Ben.
Ho ro, <fcc.
And when with blossoms laden
Bright summer comes again
111 fetch my nut brown maiden
Down from the bonny glen.
Ho ro, &c.
6o
ho RO, MO NIGH’N
My Nut-brown Maiden.
ANIGHAEN donn nam blathshul,
Gur trom a thug mi gradh dhut,
Tha d’iomhaigh ghaoil a’s d’ailleachd
A ghnath tigh’n fo m’uidh.
Ho ro, mo nigh’n donn bhoidheach,
Hi ri, mo nigh’n donn bhoidheach,
Mo chail-eag lagh ach, bhoidheach,
Cha pho-sainn ach thu.
Cha cheil mi air an t-saoghal,
Gu bheil mo mhiann’s mo ghaol ort;
’S ged chaidh mi uait air faondradh,
Cha chaochail mo run.
Ho ro, etc.
’N uair bha mi ann ad lathair,
Bu shona bha mo laiteean—
A’ sealbhachadh do mhanrain,
A’s aille do ghnuis.
Ho ro, etc.
Gnuis ’aoidheil, bhanail, mhalda
Na h-oigh is caoimhe nadua ;
I suairce, ceanail, baigheil,
Lan grais agus muirn.
Ho ro, etc.
’S ann tha mo run ’s na beanntaibh.
Far bhell mo ribhinn ghreannar,
Mar ros am fasach Shamhraidh,
An gleann fad’ o shuil.
Ho ro, etc.
Ach ’n uair a thig an Samhradh,
Bheir mise sgrib do ’n ghleann ud,
’S gu ’u tog mi learn do ’n Ghalldachd,
Ho ro, ete.
Gu h-annsail, am flur.
BONN BHOIDHEACH.
HER eye so mildly beaming,
Her look so frank and free,
In waking and in dreaming
Is evermore with me.
Ho ro, my nut-brown maiden,
Hi re, my nut-brown maiden,
Ho ro, my nut-brown maiden,
O she’s the maid for me!
O Mary, mild-eyed Mary,
By land or on the sea,
Though time and tide may vary,
My heart beats true to thee.
Ho ro, etc.
With thy fair face before me
How sweetly flew the hour,
When all thy beauty o’er me
Came streaming in its power.
Ho ro, etc.
The face with kindness glowing,
The face that hides no guile,
The light grace of thy going,
The witchcraft of thy smile.
Ho ro, etc.
Mine eyes that never vary
From pointing to the glen
Where blooms my Highland Mary,
Like wild rose ’neath the ben.
Ho ro, etc.
And when with blossoms laden
Bright summer comes again,
I’ll fetch my nut-brown maiden
Down from the bonny glen.
Ho ro, etc.
 Soldier, Rest.

(from THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.’

62

Soldier Rest.
(Lady of the Lake.)
Words by Arranged by
Sir Walter Scott. Bart-. John Thomson.

d : d I m : s Is :—. s I m : r I m : s I d1 :—. r1 I d : s I 1 : d1

d : d I 1. s Id1: s. mI r . m I 1, : d I m. r: m I 1 : s . m In: d
 63

d : d I 1 :—. s Id1: s . m I r:—. m I li : d I m. r. m I 1 : s. m I r : d

m
m
Sle«*p tin* sleep that knows not break, ing". Morn of toil, nor night of wak.ing.

m
rail.

2.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour’s clang, or war-steed champingj
Trump nor pibroch summon here,
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark’s shrill fife may come,
At the day-break, from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum.
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here$
Here’s no war-steeds neigh and champing,
Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.
 SOLDIER, REST.

(FROM THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

giOLDIER, rest! thy warfare o’er,

Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle’s enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er,
Dream of fighting fields no more.
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

No rude sound shall reach thine ear,

Armour’s clang, or war-steed champing ;
Trump nor pibroch summon here,
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark’s shrill fife may come,
At the day-break, from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near.
Guards nor warders challenge here ;
Here’s no war-steed’s neigh and champing,
Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.
 65

A Song of Glen Lui Beg.

66
A Song of Glen Lui Beg.
Words by Music by
John Stuart JBlackie. John Thomson.

Key D.
m : f. m I s : s I A1 :— I 1 . : dl I t . 1 : s . f I m.r: d . I d :— I —. :n'l
 67
Key G.
m': dl. 1 I r : t d’: t I 1 : . 1 s : d' .,d11 m1: d1- 1 ' s : d1 •, t Id*: . s
*
!#
men, to their king1 and their coun.try true. Who stood like a wall at red Wa_ ter_loo, And,with

^ ii J j i--i

^f+ir Ipr^ f

f. ml r:m.rld: d. t, I 1, : 1,. t, I d . t, : d. r lm.r;m . f I s : s

r =$m g
firm-rootedspears,Checked the mail’d euLras_siors,Wlien thrieeto the charge, like a tempest, they flew? O

r s u i j fl "l
f

? -"f f~r j

d1 : t . dl I 1 : s . m I 1 . s : f . m I r : m- f isrd’lsrm.d I r : I d

O the rare old pines of Glen Lui!

Right blithely I greeted them then.
When I whistled my way to Muichdhui,
Through the folds of the green winding glen.
But where be the men that should people the glen?
Woe’s me for the kilted brave High landmen!
Banished they live from their dear native shore.
Beyond the Atlantic’s broad billowy roarj
For the Law hath a care
Of a stag and a hare,
And the red grouse that whirrs o’er the measureless moor*
But the cottar it drives to a far foreign shore.
From his home ’mid the pines of Glen Lui!
68

A SONG OF GLEN LUI BEG.

THE rare old pines of Glen Lui!

With a shout I hailed them then,
When first to the high Muichdhui
I clomb, through the wild mountain glen.
But where are the men that should people the glen ?
Where be the kilted brave Highlandmen ?
The men, to their king and their country true,
Who stood like a wall at red Waterloo,
And, with firm-rooted spears,
Checked the mailed cuirassiers,
When thrice to the charge, like a tempest, they flew ?
O where is the cot, with its smoke curling blue
Through the rare old pines of Glen Lui ?

O the rare old pines of Glen Lui!

Right blithely I greeted them then,
When I whistled my way to Muichdhui,
Through the folds of the green winding glen.
But where be the men that should people the glen ?
Woe’s me for the kilted brave Highlandmen!
Banished they live from their dear native shore,
Beyond the Atlantic’s broad billowy roar ;
For the Law hath a care
Of a stag and a hare,
And the red grouse that whirrs o’er the measureless moor
But the cottar it drives to a far foreign shore,
From his home ’mid the pines of Glen Lui!
Eilean an

The Isle of the Heather.

70
aaiia&K) aki

THE ISLE OF THE HEATHER.

Gaelic words by M. MAC LEOD. Arranged by
Translation by HENRY WHYTE. W. S. RODDIE.
Boldly.
k
mm J. ■ »
*- i iuir y m
PI.4 NO.

"+-rrtrLri[jj'LlJ

Key Bl>
: 1, I d t, : 1, | s, : mu : sl m . r : d | d : —.' d.r m d : 1, | 1, : s,: m.
i:
* ; ; ,
T; ^ ; ;
-
Tha L.eogh_as bheagriabhach bha rianih’s anTaobliTuatli, Muir traigheadh is lionaidb ga
The Is _ land of Lew_ is stands now as of yore. With the brine of the o_ eean i'll _

m * s *
1“ i ~ s s

" .

d : l! | s, m, I s, : b : s, | s, : ^ : s, I m : r : d | r :—: d... r

i
f h-iadli_adh mu’n cuairt;Nuair dhearrs.as a ghrian oirr’ le riaghladh o shuas Blieir i
cir _ cling it’s shore; The warmth of it’s summer makes all things to grow; Till

$
m S * m T=e±I

%
 71
CHORUS.

Si : 1, : Sj | s, : Ij : S! | in : r : d | r :d . r | m : m : s | m : r . m | d : r : t! | 1,:-
i:
isi
c c r w ^—k- V '■ I '
loch_an, nan to_ ban, nan o_san*snancaol, Eilean in_nis nam bo, ’s ai te_comhnuidh nanlaoch.
doer in it’s mountains and fish in it’s rills; WTiere heroes have liv’d’moim it's heath-covcr’d hills.

0 ^ r; ■■ n 4 f

ft am eiridh na grein air a sleibhtibh bidh ceo
Bidh bhanarach ghuanaeh ‘s a bluiarach "n a dora
Ri gabbail a duanaig "s i euallacb naui bo,
’S mae-talla nan creag ri toirt frea^airt d’a ceol.
A Chiall nach &c.
At dawning of day, when there’s mist on the hill,
The milk-maids go skipping by fountain and rill,
When milking the cattle, they raise a sweet song,
And softly the echoes the chorus prolong.
I wish I were. dec.

Air feasjrar an t-samhraidh bidh sunnt air gaeh spreidli;
Bidh chuthag is fonn oirr’ ri oran di fein;
Bidh uiseag air loa agus smeoraeh air geig,
S air enuie ghlas’ is lointean uain oga ri leum.
A Chiafl nach, <fec.
The notes of the rtickoo are welcomed in May,
And the blackbird sings blithe on the sweet-scented spray;
The lark and the mavis pour forth their sweet lay.
While the lambs in the meadows are sprightly at play.
I wish I were. &c.

Cha 'a fhacas air talamh learn sealladh a’s boidheh’
Na ghr.iaa a dol sios air taobh siar Eilean Leoghais;
Crodh-laoigh anas an luaehair, "s am huachaill’ ’n an toir,
G’an tional ga airidh h al dt: laoigh og.’
A Chiall nach. &c.
There ne’er was a picture more lovely to see
Than the sun as he sinks in the blue western sea;
Wdien homeward,the cattle are wending their way,
And all things are still at the close of the day.
I wish I were. Src.

Air feasgar a gheamhraidh theid iionndadh gu gniomh
’S toirt eolais do chlann bidh gach seannduine hath;
Gach iasgair le shaathaid ri caradh a lion,
Gach nighean ri cardadh’s a mathair ri sniomh.
A Chiall nach, <fec.
In the long winter eveningSjwe sit by the fire,
And the children are taught by their hoary-hair'd sire,
A story is told as our fish nets we darn,
While the maidens, with distaff, are spinning the yarn.
I wish I were. dee.
 72
EILEAN
The Isle of the Heather.
^ J^HA Leogh as bheagriabhach bha riamh’s an Taobh Tuath,
Muir traigheadh is lionaidh ga h-iadh-adh mu’n cuairt;
Nuair dhearrs as a ghrian oirr’ le riaghladh o shuas
Bheir i fas air gach siol air son biadh do’n an t-sluagh.
A Chiall nach mi-se bha’n Eilean an Fhraoich,
Nam fiadh nam bradan, nam feadag’s nan naosg !
Nan loch-an, nan to-ban, nan o-san’s nan caol;
Eilean in-nis nam bo, ’s ai-te-comhnuidh nan laoch.
’N am eiridh na grein air a sleibhtibh bidh ceo
Bidh bhanarach ghuanach’s a bhuarach ’n a dorn
Ri gabhail a duanaig’s i cualach nam bo,
’S mac-talla nan creag ri toirt freagairt d’ a ceol.
A Chiall nach, etc.
Air feasgar an t-samhraidh bidh sunnt air gach spreidh ;
Bidh chuthag is fonn oirr’ ri oran di fein;
Bidh uiseag air Ion agus smeorach air geig,
’S air cnuic ghlas’ is lointean uain oga ri leum.
A Chiall nach, etc.
Cha ’n fhacas air talamh learn sealladh a’s boidhch’
Na ghrian a dol sios air taobh siar Eilean Leoghais;
Crodh-laoigh anns an luachair, ’s am buachaill’ ’n an toir,
G’ an tional gu airidh le al de laoigh og’.
A Chiall nach, etc.
Air feasgar a gheamhraidh theid tionndadh gu gniomh
’S toirt eolias do chlann bidh gach seann duine hath;
Gach iasgair le shnathaid ri caradh a lion,
Gach nighean ri cardadh’s mathair ri sniomh.
A Chiall nach, etc.
AN FHRAOICH
* J^HE Island of Lewis stands now as of yore,
With the brine of the ocean encircling its shore;
The warmth of its summer makes all things to grow;
Till storehouse and barn with abundance o’erflow.
I wish I were now in the isle I adore,
The isle of the heather, a-chasing the roe;
With deer on its mountains, and fish in its rills;
Where heroes have lived ’mong its heath-covered hills.
At dawning of day, when there’s mist on the hill,
The milkmaids go skipping by fountain and rill,
When milking the cattle they raise a sweet song,
And softly the echoes the chorus prolong.
I wish I were, etc
The notes of the cuckoo are welcomed in May,
And the blackbird sings blithe on the sweet-scented spray;
The lark and the mavis pour forth their sweet lay,
While the lambs in the meadows are sprightly at play.
I wish I were, etc.
There ne’er was a picture more lovely to see
Than the sun as he sinks in the blue western sea;
When homeward the cattle are wending their way,
And all things are still at the close of the day.
I wish I were, etc.
In the long winter evenings we sit by the fire,
And the children are taught by their hoary-haired sire,
A story is told as our fish-nets we darn,
While the maidens, with distaff, are spinning the yarn.
I wish I were, etc.
Out over the Forth.

(the campbells’ pibroch.)

74

Out over the Forth.

(The Campbells Pibroeh.)
Words partly written by Arranged by
Robert Burns. W. S. Roddie.
Vivace.

PIANO

m m

: Sj Is, :—. 1, : s, I m ; r : d I 1, :—■. s, : 1, I d : 1, : s, Is, :—. 1, : s, I m : r : d

 75

r : m : r | d
%
j j'
bair_ nio and me.
rrr//. ad lib.

m i * i 5 5
P ad lib.

■W -T
2.
His father he frown’d on the love of his boyhood.
And O! his proud mother look’d cauld upon me;
But he follow’d me aye to my hame in the sheiling.
And the hills of Breadalbyn rang wild wi’our glee:
A’ the lang summer day, ’mid the heather and bracken,
I joy’d in the light o’ his bonnie blue e’e;
I little then thought that the wide western ocean
Would be rolling the day ’tween my laddie and me.
3.
When we plighted our faith by the cairn of the mountain.
The deer and the roe stood bride-maidens to me.
And my bride’s trying glass was the clear crystal fountain;—
What then was'the warld to my laddie and me?
So I look to the west when I gae to my rest.
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be:
For far in the west is the lad I lo’e best,—
He’s seeking a hame for my bairnie and me.
y6

OUT OVER THE FORTH.

(THE CAMPBELLS’ PIBROCH.)

/'"AUT over the Forth I look to the north,

V
'^ But what is the north or its Highlands to me!
The south nor the east bring nae ease to my breast,
The wild rocky mountains, or dark rolling sea.
But I look to the west when I gae to my rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be,
For far in the west lives the lad I lo’e best,
The laddie that’s dear to my bairnie and me.

His father he frowned on the love of his boyhood,

And O ! his proud mother looked cauld upon me ;
But he followed me aye to my hame in the sheiling,
And the hills of Breadalbyn rang wild wi’ our glee ;
A’ the lang summer day, ’mid the heather and bracken,
I joy’d in the light o’ his bonnie blue e’e ;
I little then thought that the wide western ocean
Would be rolling the day ’tween my laddie and me.

When we plighted our faith by the cairn of the mountain,

The deer and the roe stood bridemaidens to me,
And my bride’s trying-glass was the clear crystal fountain ;
What then was the warld to my laddie and me ?
So I look to the west when I gae to my rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be ;
For far in the west is the lad I lo’e best,—
He's seeking a hame for my bairnie and me.
 77

Now Spring has clad the Grove

in Green,
78

Now spring has clad the Grove in green.

Words by Arranged by
Burns. John Thomson.

I Key Ek
s, . d : t, . r I d . m: s m I s , f . m, r : d . tj Id : . Js f
 79

d1 . • d1 : dl . t , 1 I s 1. s, f : m . 1 Is. d r: m . r Id .—: .

That little flow’rets peaceful lot.

In yonder cliff that grows.
Wliich, save the linnets flight, I wot
No ruder visit knows.
Was minej till love has o’er me past.
An’ blighted a’ my bloom,
An’ now beneath the withering blast.
My youth an’ joy consume.
3.
The waken’d laverock,warbling, springs.
An’ climbs the early sky.
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
In mornings rosy eyej
As little reclct I sorrows powTer,
Until the flow’ry snare
O witchin’ love, in luckless hour.
Made me the thrall o’care.
DW SPHINC HAS CLAD THE CHOVE :N CHEEN
8o

NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE IN GREEN.

OW spring has clad the grove in green,

And strewed the lea wi’ flowers ;
The yellow waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers,
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine,
The weary steps of woe.

That little floweret’s peaceful lot,

In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet’s flight, I wot,
No ruder visit knows,
Was mine ; till love has o’er me past,
An’ blighted a’ my bloom,
An’ now beneath the withering blast
My youth an’ joy consume.

The wakened laverock, warbling, springs,

An’ climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
In morning’s rosy eye ;
As little recked I sorrow’s power,
Until the flowery snare
O’ witchin’ love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o’ care.
Mo Run Gcal Dileas.

My Faithful Fair One.*

82

MY FAITHFUL FAIR ONE,

The chorus of this sons: seems to have little connection with the
succeeding” verscs.it is evidently a fragment of an earlier date. Words by MACLEAN.
Arranged by Translation by
W. S. RODDIE. H WHYTE.
Earnestly

PlJlM'O.

PlU i i

Key D
-. a : a1 : r1 . a1 : i . a1 s : a . a : m . s
P
99
p
Is truaghnach robh mi an riochd na faoil _ inn, A shnanihadh
Oh could I be, low, in form of sea _ gull. That sails so
/" % , ^

mm $'' f

♦chorus to be sung first.

Is truagh naeh robK mi ’s mo rog'ha ceile.
Air mullach shleibhte nam beanntan mor,
S gun bhi ga V n-eisdeaehd ach coin an 1-sleibhe,
'S gu’n tugainn fein di na ceudan pog.
Mo run geal, <fec.
3r^
Thug mi corr agus naoi miosan,
Anns na h-Innsean a b’ fhaide thall;
’S bean boidh’chead d’ aodainn cha robh ri fhaotainn,
S g«d ^heobhainn saor iad cha ’n fhanainn ann.
Mo run goal, dire.
4th
Thug mi mios ann am fiabhrus claoidhte,
Gun duil riuiu oidhche gu’m bithinn beo;
Be fath mo smaointinn a la’s a dh-oidhche
Gu‘m faighinn faoehadh a‘s tu bhi ’m choir.
Mo run geal, <fcc.
Cha bhi mi ’strith ris a chraoibh nach lub learn,
Ged chinneadh ubhlan air bharr orach geig;
Mo shoraidh slan leat ma rinn thu m’ fhagail,
Cha d’ thainig traigh gun mhuir-lan ’n a deigh.
Mo run geal, «fec.
Oh, could we wander, where streams meander.
Id ask no grandeur from foreign clime;
Where birds would cheer us, and none would hear us,
Id kiss my dear one and call her mine.
My faithful fair one, <fcc.
In foreign regions,! lived a season,
And none could see there with thee to vie,
Thy form so slender, thy words so tender,
I will rememher until I die.
• My faithful fair one, <fec.
4th
In fevered anguish, when left to languish,
No human language my thoughts could tell,
I thought, my dearie, if thou wert near me
To soothe and cheer me, Td soon be well.
My faithful fair one, &q.
stb
I won’t contend with a tree that bends not,
Tho’ on its tendrils rich fruits should grow,
If thou forsake me I won’t upbraid thee,
The greatest ebb-tide brings fullest flow.
My faithful fair one, &c.
 84
MO RUN
My Faithful Fair One.
T S truagh nach robh mi an riochd na faoilinn,
A shnamhadh aotrom air bharr nan tonn,
A’s bheirinn sgriobag do’n eilean I leach,
Far bheil an ribhinn dh’ fhag m’ inntinn trom.
Mo run geal dileas, dileas dileas,
Mo run geal, dileas, nach till thunall ?
Cha till mi fein, a ghaoil, cha’n fhaod mi
Oir tha mo ghaol-sa na laidhe tinn.
Is truagh nach robh mi’s mo rogha ceile,
Air mullach shleibhte nam beanntan mor,
’S gun bhi ga ’r n-eisdeachd ach coin an t-sleibhe,
’S gu’n tugainn fein di na ceudan pog.
Mo run geal, etc.
Thug mi corr agus naoi miosan,
Anns na h-Innsean a b’ fhaide thall ;
’S bean boidh’ chead d’ aodainn cha robh ri fhaotainn,
’S ged gheobhainn saor iad cha ’n fhanainn ann,
Mo run geal, etc.
Thug mi mios anu am fiabhrus claoidhte,
Gun dull rium oidhche gu’m bithinn beo ;
B’e fath mo smaointinn a la’s a dh-oidhche
Gu’m faighinn faochadh a’s tu bhi’m choir.
Mo run geal, etc.
Cha bhi mi ’strith ris a chraoibh nach lub learn,
Ged chinneadh ubhlan air bharr gach geig ;
Mo shoraidh slan leat ma rinn thu m’ fhagail,
Cha d’ thainig traigh gun mhuir-lan ’n a deigh.
Mo run geal, etc.
* Chorus to be sung first.
GEAL DILEAS.
could I be, love, in form of seagull,
That sails so freely upon the sea,
I’d visit Islay, for there abiding,
Is that dear kind one I pine to see.
My faithful fair one, my own, my rare one,
Return my fair one, O hear my cry!
For thee, my maiden, I’m sorrow laden,
Without my fair one I’ll pine and die.
0 could we wander, where streams meander,
I’d ask no grandeur from foreign clime ;
Where birds would cheer us, and none would hear us.
I’d kiss my dear one and call her mine.
My faithful fair one, etc.
In foreign regions I lived a season,
And none could see there with thee to vie,
Thy form so slender, thy words so tender,
I will remember until I die.
My faithful fair one, etc.
In fevered anguish, when left to languish.
No human language my thoughts could tell,
1 thought, my dearie, if thou wert near me
To soothe and cheer me, I’d soon be well.
My faithful fair one, etc.
I won’t contend with a tree that bends not.
Though on its tendrils rich fruits should grow,
If thou forsake me I won’t upbraid thee,
The greatest ebb-tide brings fullest flow.
My faithful fair one, etc.
Old Scotland.
86

Old Scotland.

Words by Arranged by
George Allan. John Thomson.

i,. b : s.

J) I i)-
U % m
way. Down o ceans depth, o’er hea ven’s height. Through
 87
r m : s 1 Id . . d I r m : s 1

Then fast spread out the flowing1 sheet.

Give welcome to the wind!
Is there a gale weM shrink to meet.
When treachery’s behind?
The foaming deep our couch will be.
The storm our vesper bell.
The low’ring heaven our canopy.
My native land, fare-well!
3.
Away, away across the main.
We’ll seek some happier clime
W here daring is not deem’d a stain.
Nor loyalty a crime
Our hearts are wrung, our minds are toss’d.
Wild as the ocean’s swells
A kingdom and a birthright lost!
Old Scotland, fare thee well!
88
OLD SCOTLAND.

f J^HE breeze blows fresh, my gallant mates,

Our vessel cleaves her way,
Down ocean’s depth, o’er heaven’s height,
Through darkness and through spray.
No loving moon shines out for us,
No star our course to tell,
And must we leave old Scotland thus ?
My native land, farewell.

Then fast spread out the flowing sheet,

Give welcome to the wind!
Is there a gale we’d shrink to meet,
When treachery’s behind ?
The foaming deep our couch will be,
The storm our vesper bell,
The lowering heaven our canopy,
My native land, farewell!

Away, away across the main,

We'll seek some happier clime
Where daring is not deemed a stain,
Nor loyalty a crime.
Our hearts are wrung, our minds are tossed,
Wild as the ocean’s swell;
A kingdom and a birthright lost!
Old Scotland, fare thee well!
My Hawk is Tired.

(FROM THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

90

My Hawk is tired.
Lay of the imprisoned Huntsman.
LADY OF THE LAKE.
Words by Arranged by
Sir Walter Scott. Bart. John Thomson.
Moderate.
 91
m. s: s.dlf. 1: 1 I s. m.,m:d.xnim. r: r. d, r

m . , r : d . ^ I s, . m, : S! . , m I s . , m: d . , d I r . r : m . , sL

s . , m : d . , d I r. s: d.

No more at dawning1 morn I rise.

And sun myself in Ellen’s eyes,
D rive the fleet deer the forest through.
And homeward wend with evening dew;
A blythesome welcome blythly meet.
And lay my trophies at her feet.
While fled the eve on wing of glee,—
That life is lost to love and me!
That life is lost to love and me!
92

MY HAWK IS TIRED.

(FROM THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

hawk is tired of perch and hood,

My idle greyhound loathes his food,

My horse is weary of his stall,

And I am sick of captive thrall.

I wish I were, as I have been,

Hunting the hart in forest green,

With bended bow and bloodhound free,

For that’s the life is meet for me,

For that’s the life is meet for me.

No more at dawning morn I rise,

And sun myself in Ellen’s eyes,

Drive the fleet deer the forest through,

And homeward wend with evening dew ;

A blythesome welcome blythely meet,

And lay my trophies at her feet,

While fled the eve on wing of glee,—

That life is lost to love and me!

That life is lost to love and me!
Ealaidh Gbaoil.

Melody of Love.
94

IY1ELODY OF LOVE.
Arranged by First Verse and Chorus of Gaelic by MT? Mackenzie, Balone
W. S. RODDIE. Remainder of Gaelic and English translation by Ewen Maclachlan.

2ILd
Mar na neoilbhuidhe lubas
Air sttfchdaibh nan sliabh,
Tha cas-fhalt mo ruin-sa
Gu siubhlacb a sniomh-,
Tlia gruaidli mar an ros
Nuair a's boidhcbe bhios fliiamh
Fo ur-dheall a Cheitein
Mu'n eirioh a ghrian.
3rd
Mar Bbenus a boisgeadh
Tliar coilltibh nan ard,
Tha miog-shuil ’g am bhuaireadb
Le snaioheantas graidh.
Tba braighe nan send
Ann an eideadh gach aigh,
Mar gbealac b nan speur
’S i cur reultan fo phramh.
4.1b
Bi’db ’n uiscag’s an smeorach,
Feadb lointcan an druchd,
Toirt failto le’n oran
Do'n og-mbaduinn clduin;
Aeh bi’db ’n uiscag neo-sbeolta,
’S an smeorach gun sunnd,
Nuair a thoisiclieas m’ eudail
Air gleusadh a ciuil.
5th
Nuair thig samhradb nan neoinean
A eoinhdach nam bruach,
Bi'db gach eoinean ’s a chrochd-choill’
A ceol leis a chuaich;
’S bi’dh mise gu h-eibhinn
A leumnaich’s a ruaig,
Fo dhluth-gheugaibh sgaileach,
A manran ri m’ luaidh.
95
2rLd
As the cloud’s yellow wreath
On the mountain’s high brow,
So the locks of my fair one
Redundantly flow;
Her cheeks have the tint
That the roses display
When they glitter with dew
In the morning of May.
3rd
Like the planet of Venus,
That gleams o’er the grove,
Her blue rolling eyes
Arc the symbols of love.
Her pearl-circled bosom
Diffuses bright rays,
As the moon, when the stars
Are bedimmed with her blaze.
4th
The mavis and lark,
At the breaking of dawn,
Make a chorus of joy
To resound through the lawn;
But the mavis is tuneless
The lark strives in vain,
When my beautiful.charmer
Renews her sweet strain.
5th
When summer bespangles
The landscape with flowers,
And the thrush and the cuckoo
Sing soft in their bowers.
Through the wood-shaded windings
With Bella I’ll rove,
And feast unrestrained
On the smiles of my love.
q6
EALAIDH GHAOIL.

Melody of Love.

Gu*Na’n gi-leealmoairlean-nan N°l

an t-snaimh, Orthetheswan
foamononthethelake,
shore,
Na cobhar, na tuinne Can compare with the charms
’S e tilleadh o’n traigh; Of the maid I adore ;
Na’m blath-bhainne buaile Not so white is the new milk
’Sa chuach leis fo bharr, That flows o’er the pail,
No sneachd nan gleann dosrach Or the snow that is showered
’Ga fhroiseadh mu’n bhlar. From the brow of the vale.
Air faillirin, illirin, uillirin, O ! Air falyerin, eelyerin, oolyerin, O !
Air faillirin, illirin, uillirin, O ! Air falyerin, eelyerin, oolyerin, O !
Air faillirin, illirin, uillirin, O ! Air falyerin, eelyerin, oolyerin, O !
Gu’r boidheach an comunn tha’n comh-nuidh ’n t-Strathmhoir. For kingdom, and friendship, and bonnie Strathmore.
Mar na neoil bhuidhe lubas As the cloud’s yellow wreath
Air stuchdaibh nan sliabh, On the mountain’s high brow,
Tha cas-fhalt mo ruin-sa So the locks of my fair one
Gu siubhlach a sniomh; Redundantly flow;
Tha gruaidh mar an ros Her cheeks have the tint
Nuair a’s boidhche bhios fhiamh That the roses display
Fo ur-dhealt a Cheitein When they glitter with dew
Mu’n eirich a ghrian. In the morning of May.
Air faillirin, etc. Air falyerin, etc.
Mar Bhenus a boisgeadh Like the planet of Venus
Thar coilltibh nan ard, That gleams o’er the grove,
Tha miog-shuil ’g am bhuaireadh Her blue rolling eyes
Le suaicheantas graidh. Are the symbols of love.
Tha braighe nan seud Her pearl-circled bosom
Ann an eideadh gach aigh, Diffuses bright rays,
Mar ghealach nan speur As the moon, when the stars
’S i cur reultan fo phramh. Are bedimmed with her blaze.
Air faillirin, etc. Air falyerin, etc.
Bi’dh ’n uiseag’s an smeorach, The mavis and lark,
Feadh lointean an druchd, At the breaking of dawn,
Toirt failte le’n oran Make a chorus of joy
Do’n og-mhaduinn chiuin; To resound through the lawn,
Ach bi’dh ’n uiseag neo sheolta, But the mavis is tuneless—
’S an smeorach gun sunnd, The lark strives in vain,
Nuair a thoisicheas m’ eudail When my beautiful charmer
Air gleusadh a ciuil. Renews her sweet strain.
Air faillirin, etc. Air falyerin, etc.
Nuair thig samhradh nan neoinean When summer bespangles
A comhdach nam bruach, The landscape with flowers,
Bi’dh gach eoinean’s a chrochd-choill’ And the thrush and the cuckoo
A ceol leis a chuaich ; Sing soft in their bowers.
’S bi’dh mise gu h-eibhinn Through the wood-shaded windings
A leumnaich’s a ruaig, With Bella I’ll rove,
Fo dhluth-gheugaibh sgaileach, And feast unrestrained
A man ran ri m’ luaidh. On the smiles of my love.
Air faillirin, etc. Air falyerin, etc.
Noras Vow.
98

Nora’s Vow.

Words by Arranged by
Sir Walter Scott. Bart. John Thomson.

Soft slow and pathetic.

piano.

d d:d dir. mid1.,! I 1 ., m: s ., llr ., d:d.m

 99

2.
“A maidens vows” old Callum spoke
‘Are lightly made, and lightly broke;
The heather on the mountains height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet, Nora, ere its bloom be gone
May blythely wed the Earl’s son’.’
3.
“The swan” she said, the lake’s clear breast
May barter fpr the eagle’s nest;
The Awe’s fierce stream may backward turn;
Ben Cruaihan fall, and crush Kilehurn;
Our kilted clans, when blood is high.
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done.
Mould never wed the Earl’s son’’
4.
Still in the water-lilies shade.
Her wonted nest the wild swan made;
Ben-Cruaihan stands as fast as ever;
Still downward foams the Awe’s fierce river;
To shun the clash of foeman’s steel.
No Highland brogue has turn’d the heel;
But Nora’s heart is lost and won.
She’s wedded to the Earl’s son.
 NORA’S VOW

T TEAR what Highland Nora said :

A A << Yhe Earl’s son I’ll never wed,
Should all the race of nature die,
And none remain but he and I.
For all the gold and all the gear,
For all the lands both far and near,
That ever valour lost or won,
I would not wed the Earl’s son.”

“ A maiden’s vows,” old Callum spoke,

“ Are lightly made and lightly broke ;
The heather on the mountain’s height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae ;
Yet, Nora, ere its bloom be gone
May blythely wed the Earl’s son.”

“ The swan,” she said, “ the lake’s clear breast

May barter for the eagle’s nest;
The Awe’s fierce stream may backward turn;
Ben Cruaihan fall, and crush Kilchurn :
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done,
Would never wed the Earl’s son.”

Still in the w'ater-lilies’ shade,

Her wonted nest the wild swan made ;
Ben Cruaihan stands as fast as ever ;
Still downward foams the Awe’s fierce river ;
To shun the clash of foeman’s steel,
No Highland brogue has turned the heel;
But Nora’s heart is lost and won,
She’s wredded to the Earl’s son.
How Blythely the Pipe.
102

How Blythely the Pipe.

Words by Arranged by
Joseph Macgregor. W. S. Roddie.

g J) j)' ^ .-.p
How blythe.ly the pipe thro’Glen _ ly_ on was sound_ing At morn when the'clans to the

s : f : m I r :—: d I m :—. r: dlnirr: d I s: 1: slm: r:d

1 :—. t:d'l s:dl:in I r : m:rl d :t—:

 103
1 1
Is: m:sl s : ni:s 1 : d : 1 I s : m : s 1 : d : 1 I 1 : s : m
a little quicker
jr- | p j. 5
wars bann.er streaming', soonehang'ed their fonddream_ing, The bat_tle cry e_ eho’d a _

U-r-(^zJ

a
s
I

r : t : 1 I s : :s Is: m: si s: m:s ll:d1: lls: m:s

With their bridesmaids still deck’d in their gay festal gear:

And she wept as she saw them fresh garlands preparing.
Which might laurel Loves brow, or be strewed o’er his bier.
But cheer thee fond maiden—each wild breeze is laden
With victory?; slogan, through mountain and grovej
W here death streams were gushing, and war steeds were rushing.
Lord Ronald has conquered, for home and for love.
io4

HOW BLYTHELY THE PIPE.

J J OW blythely the pipe through Glenlyon was sounding

At morn when the clans to the merry dance hied ;

And gay were the love-knots o’er hearts fondly bounding,

When Ronald woo’d Flora, and made her his bride.

But war’s banner streaming, soon changed their fond dreaming,

The battle cry echoed around and above.

Broad claymores were glancing, and war-steeds were prancing,

Up, Ronald! to arms for your home and your love.

All was hushed o’er the hill, where love lingered despairing

With their bridesmaids still decked in their gay festal gear :

And she wept as she saw them fresh garlands preparing,

Which might laurel Love’s brow, or be strewed o’er his bier.

But cheer thee, fond maiden—each wild breeze is laden

With victory’s slogan, through mountain and grove ;

Where death-streams were gushing, and war-steeds were rushing,

Lord Ronald has conquered for home and for love.

 io5

Maighdeann Mhuile.

The Maiden of Mull.

106
Maighdeann Mhuile.

The Maiden of Mull.

Words by D. LIVINGSTON. Symphonies and Accompaniments by

Translation by NlGEL MaCNEILL. W. S. RODDIE.

Slowly.

s :—: m I r : d r I m ; r: d I 1, : Sj : 1, Id : : I d :—
 107

m l r d : r m . r : d I li : Si : lj d :—: I d

cuirt nan cruin_ neag1, ’S mo run am Mail _ e nam mor _ _ bheann.

sol ace bor _ row: My dear is in Mull of the Mor - Yen.

j—3 ■, {

m
r i'

2.
Tha maise a’s uaisle, suairceas a’s ceanal,
A’ direadh a suas an gruaidh mo leannainj
Ma bheir thu dhomh fuath, ’s nach buan do ghealladh
Ni uaigh a’s anart mo chomhdach.
3.
Do shlios mor an fhaoileann, taobh na mara.
Do ghruaidh mar an caorann, sgoilt’ air mheanganj
Suil ghorm is glan aoidh, fo chaoin-rosg tana:
’S tu’n oigh a mhealladh gach oigear.
4.
Tha maise no dha ri ’aireamh fhathast
Air bean a’ ehiiil bhiiin,’s nam blath-shuil meallach;
Ma bheir thu do lamb, gu’m fas mi fallain,
’S bu shlainte mhaireann do phog dhomh.
5.
’Se sgar mi bho m’chiall ro mhiad do eheanail
’S bho’n chaidh thu do’n t-sliabb nach b’fhiach leat m’ fharaidj
’S e d’aogas a’s d’fhiamh chuir pian am charaibh
’S cha mhiann a bh’agam air storas.
2.
Like beautiful sheen of rosy morning
The glow of thy cheek is sweetly burning:
The troth of our love if thou art spurning.
Soon sods and linen will shroud me.
3.
For thine is the charm that wins devotion:
The graces of form that wake emotion:
As bright as the sea-gull on the ocean:
With eye of truth and of fondness.
4.
W ert thou my own bride I’d cease repining:
Thy smile wovdd restore my health declining:
Could I but behold the beauties shining
Around the maiden of Mor-Ven.
5.
The parting with thee my heart has broken:
Alas! thou forget’st the fond words spoken:
Oh! wilt thou not send me one true token
That I’m remembered in Mor-Ven.
io8
MAIGHDEANN
The Maiden of Mull.
Muil-e nan craobh tha mhaigh-dean bhan-ail,
D’an d’thug mi mo ghaol s’mi faoin am bhar-ail
’S ma chaidh e fo sgaoil’s nach faod mi faighinn
Gu’n taobh mi cai-lea-gan Chombaill.
O’n tha me gun sunnd, ’s gur duth dhomh mu-lad,
Cha tog mi mo shuil ri sug-radh tuil leadh;
Cha teid mi le muirn gu cuirt nan cruin-neag,
’S mo run am Muil-e nam morbheann.
Tha maise a’s uaisle, suairceas a’s ceanal,
A’ direadh a suas and gruaidh mo leannain ;
Ma bheir thu dhomh fuath, ’s nach buan do ghealladh
Ni uaigh a’s anart mo chomhdach.
O’n tha me, etc.
Do schlios mor an fhaoileann, taobh na mara,
Do ghruaidh mar an caorann, sgoilt’ air mheangan ;
Suil ghorm is glan aoidh, fo chaoin-rosg tana :
’S tu’n oigh a mhealladh gach oigear.
O’n tha me, etc.
Tha maise no dha ri ’aireamh fhathast
Air bean a’ chiiil bhhin, ’s nam blhth-shuil meallach;
Ma bheir thu do Ikmb, gu’m fas mi fallain,
’S bu shDinte mhaireann do phbg dhomh.
O’n tha me, etc.
’S e sgar mi bho m’ chiall ro mheid do cheanail
’S bho'n chaidh thu do’n t-sliabb nach b’fhiach leat m’ fharaid;
’S e d’aogas a’s d’fhiamh chuir pian am charaibh
\S cha mhiann a bh agam air stbras.
O’n tha me, etc.
MHUILE.
F Mull’s wooded isle I left the maiden,
That reigns in my heart, affection laden;
Sweet thoughts of her love, like breath of Eden,
Arise to soothe me in Cowal.
Full cheerless, alone, I live in sorrow ;
No light from her love comes with the morrow
From others I cannot solace borrow;
My dear is in Mull of the Morven.
Like beautiful sheen of rosy morning
The glow of thy cheek is sweetly burning :
The troth of our love if thou art spurning,
Soon sods and linen will shroud me.
Full cheerless, etc.
For thine is the charm that wins devotion ;
The graces of form that wake emotion ;
As bright as the seagull on the ocean ;
With eye of truth and of fondness.
Full cheerless, etc.
Wert thou my own bride I’d cease repining;
Thy smile would restore my health declining;
Could I but behold the beauties shining
Around the maiden of Morven.
Full cheerless, etc.
The parting with thee my heart has broken ;
Alas ! thou forget’st the fond words spoken;
Oh ! wilt thou not send me one true token
That I’m remembered in Morven.
Full cheerless, etc.
 io9

Sons of the Highlanders,

Clan n’an Gael am Gualibh a Chiele !

110
Sons of the Highlanders.

Clan n’an Gael am Gualibh a Chiele!

Words by Music by
John Imlah. John Thomson.
Tempo di marcia.

PIANO.

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Sons of the High_lan_ders! shoul_der to shouLdor,\Vliere are the war_ri_ors brav_er or bold_er?

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The names of the North: Du.gald, Dun _ can, and Don _ aid, A1 _ lis _ ter, Hec.tor, Hugh,

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flew to the field,and last stood for the Stu_art! Sons of the Highlanders!shoulder to shoulder.

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And honour still hallows the moor where they moulder,

The field where they fell, fighting shoulder to shoulder.
Sons of the Highlanders! &c.
3.
Success to the sons of the Hill and the Heather
The kilt, and the sporran, the bonnet, and feather,
Here’s “Cothram na fionn when soldier fronts soldier.
Then hurrah for the Highlanders! shoulder to shoulder.
Sons of the Highlanders! &c.
SONS OF THE HIGLANDERS.

Clan n’an Gael am Gualibh a Chiele !

gtONS of the Highlanders! shoulder to shoulder,

Where are the warriors braver or bolder ?

Gartered and kilted, buckl’d and belted,

Here’s to the Highlanders! shoulder to shoulder.

The names of the North, Dugald, Duncan, and Donald,

Alister, Hector, Hugh, Rory, and Ronald,

O ! their’s was the trusty hand, their s was the true heart

First flew to the field, and last stood for the Stuart.

Sons of the Highlanders! etc.

Though there the white rose on the red heath was trodden,

Yet foemen have wept for the clans of Culloden!

And honour still hallows the moor where they moulder,

The field where they fell, fighting shoulder to shoulder.

Sons of the Highlanders ! etc.

Success to the sons of the hill and the heather,

The kilt and the sporran, the bonnet and feather;

Here’s “ Cothram na fionn ” when soldier fronts soldier,

Then hurrah for the Highlanders! shoulder to shoulder.

Sons of the Highlanders ! etc.

IVtahe. Maid of Lorn.

(from THE “ LORD OF THE ISLES.”)

114

Wake Maid of Lorn.

From the Lord of the Isles.
Words by Music by SIR JOHN STEVENSON.
Sir Walter Scott. Bart. Arranged by JOHN THOMSON.

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With tenderness.
VOICE. teg
Wake*, Maid of Lorn! the

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PIANO.

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 115

Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay

Lies many a Galley gaily mann’d,
We hear the merry pibroch’s play.
We see the streamer^ silken band.
What chieftain’s praise these pibrochs swell,
What crest is on thy banner wove.
The harp, the harp, the minstrel, dare not tell—
The riddle must be read by love, be read by love.
Wake, maid of Lorn! &c.
 WAKE, MAID OF LORN.

(FROM THE “ LORD OF THE ISLES.”)

^^TAKE, maid of Lorn! the moments fly,

Which yet that maiden name allow ;

Wake, maiden wake! the hour is nigh,

When love shall claim a plighted vow.

By fear, thy bosom’s flut’ring guest,

By hope, that soon shall fears remove,

We bid thee break the bonds of rest,

And wake thee at the call of love, the call of love !

Wake, maid of Lorn! wake, maid of Lorn

Wake, maid of Lorn! the moments fly.

Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay

Lies many a galley, gaily mann’d,

We hear the merry pibroch’s play,

We see the streamer’s silken band.

What chieftain’s praise these pibrochs swell,

What crest is on thy banner wove,

The harp, the harp, the minstrel dare not tell—

The riddle must be read by love, be read by love.

Wake, maid of Lorn! etc.

Cha bhi mi ga d' Chaoidb.

I’ll sorrow no more.

118
©oja suaa (aa ®° ©ia&©a©ixL

I’LL SORROW NO IYIORE.

Arranged by
W. S. RODDIE. English words by Henry Whyte

PIANO.
 119
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luj^had ormthuiNa’n tiof_eadhtufliathastbutu m'aig-hearsmo run S na'm faig-himi do lit_ir gu’n
low as of yore; And should thou return, niy t rue love thou should"stbe, Or had I thy let _ ter; Fd

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ruiginn thu nunn.
hasten to thee.

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S nuair rainig mi ’n eladach bha m’aigiie fo phramh
A cumha na maighdinn is caoimhneile gradli,
S ’n uair ghabh mi mo chead di air feasgar Dimairt,
Gu’n deaeh mi’n tigh-osda a dlv-ol a deoeh-slaint’.
Ho ro, eha bhi, drc.
3rd
S e so an treas turas dhomli fhein a bhi falbh,
A dli-ionnsaidh na luinge, le sgiobair gun eliearb,
Le comhlan math ghillean nach tilleadh roimh stoirm;
’S na m biodh again botal gu’n eosdainn sud oirbh!
Ho ro, eha bhi, <fee.
4th
Ged the id mi’n bhal-danns’ cha bhi sannt again dlia,
Cha ’n fhaie mi te ami a ni samhladh do m’ ghradh;
Nuair dhireas mi’n gleann bidh mi sealltainn an aird,
Ri duthaieh nam beann, ’s a bheil m’annsaehd a tamh.
Ho ro, cha bhi, <fcc.
511.1
Mar dhealbha na peueaig, tha’n te tha mi sealg,
nuair ehi mi an te sin tha m’eibhneas air falbh;
Mar ros air a mheangan, tha ’n ainnir ’n a dealbh,
S ged sgaineadh mo ehridhe, eha’n innis mi h-ainm.
Ho ro, eha bhi, &c.
2^
When lately we parted, how sad the farewell!
Our words were but few- but our thoughts who can tell?
When lost to my vision afar on the brine,
1 drank thee success in a goblet of wine.
For thee, my sweet maiden, dee
3rd
Three times have I cross’d to the ship as she lay,
Becalmed on the breast of the silvery bay;
My crew are the bravest that handle an oar,
They fear not the tempest, but laugh at its roar.
For thee, my sweet maiden, &c.
4th
No ball-room can tempt me, or raise my despair,
There is none.in the dance that with thee could compare;
When climbing the mountain I gaze o’er the tide,
To the land where my fair one has gone to reside.
For thee, my sweet maiden, <fec.
Not the peacock such beauty and gracefulness shows,
As the maiden whose presence would banish my woes;
She’s fair as the lily, and sweet as the rose.
And nothing can tempt me her name to disclose.
For thee, my sweet maiden, «fcc.

CHA BHI Ml CA.

120
CHA BHI MI GA
I’ll sorrow no more.
'P'HOIR an t-soraidh ceud soraidh, thoir an t-soraidh so uam,
A nunn thun nam port-a thar osnaich a chuain,
Far an d’fhag mi mo leannan, caol-mhal-a gun ghruaim
’S gur cubhraidh leam d’anail n’an caineal gabhuain.
Ho ro, cha bhl mi ga d’ chaoidh ni’s mo
Ma threig thu mise cha lughad orm thu;
Na’n tig-eadh tu fhat hast bu tu m’aighear’s mo run
’S na’m faighinn do litir g’un ruiginn thu nunn.
’S nuair rainig mi ’n cladach bha m’aigne fo phramh
A cumha na maighdinn is caoimhneile gradh,
’S ’n uair ghabh mi mo chead di air feasgar Dimairt,
G’un deach mi’n tigh-osda a dh-ol a deoch-slaint’.
Ho ro, cha bhi, etc.
’S e so an treas turas dhomh fhein a bhi falbh,
A dh-ionnsaidh na luinga, le sgiobair gun chearb,
Le comhlan math ghillean nach tilleadh roimh stoirm;
’S na’m biodh again botal gu’n cosdainn sud oirbh !
Ho ro, cha bhi, etc.
Ged theid mi’n bhal-danns’ cha bhi sannt agam dha,
Cha ’n fhaic mi te ann a ni samhladh do m’ ghradh;
Nuair dhireas mi’n gleann bidh mi sealitainn an aird,
Ri duthaich nam beann, ’s a bheil m’annsachd a tamh.
Ho ro, cha bhi, etc.
Mar dhealbha na peucaig, tha’n te tha mi sealg,
’S nuair chi mi an te sin tha m’eibhneas air falbh;
Mar ros air a mheangan, tha ’n ainnir ’n a dealbh,
’S ged sgaineadh mo chridhe cha’n innis mi h ainm.
Ho ro, cha bhi, etc.
D’ CHAOIDH
p'AR over the ocean, between us that lies,
My greetings be wafted to her that I prize,
Her neatly arched eyebrows, unshaded by gloom,
And breath like the fragrance of roses in bloom.
For thee, my sweet maiden, I’ll sorrow no more,
Thou’st left me to pine, but I love as of yore;
And should thou return, my true love thou should’st be,
Or had I thy letter, I’d hasten to thee.
When lately we parted, how sad the farewell!
Our words were but few, but our thoughts who can tell ?
When lost to my vision afar on the brine,
I drank thee success in goblet of wine.
For thee, my sweet maiden, etc.
Three times have I cross’d to the ship as she lay
Becalmed on the breast of the silvery bay;
My crew are the bravest that handle an oar,
They fear not the tempest, but laugh at its roar.
For thee, my sweet maiden, etc.
No ball-room can tempt me, or raise my despair,
There is none in the dance that with thee could compare;
When climbing the mountain I gaze o’er the tide,
To the land where my fair one has gone to reside.
For thee, my sweet maiden, etc.
Not the peacock such beauty and gracefulness shows,
As the maiden whose presence would banish my woes;
She’s fair as the lily, and sweet as the rose,
And nothing can tempt me her name to disclose.
For thee, my sweet maiden, etc.
 12I

"The kiss ahint the door.

122
The kiss ahint the door.
Words by Old Scotch Air. Arranged by
Thomas C. Latto. John Thomson.
&
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voice.
There’s meikde bliss in ae fondkiss,Wliiles

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O lad _ die whisht, for sic a fricht’ I ne’er was in a _ fore, Fu’

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 123
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We stappit’ ben,while Maggies face

Was like a lowin’ coal.
And as for me I could hae’ crept
Into a rabbits holej
The mither look’t, sauffs how she look’t!
Thae mithers are a bore
An’ gleg as ony cat to hear
A ki ss ahint the door.
There’s meiklc bliss &c.
3.
The douce gudeman though he was there.
As weel micht been in Rome;
For by the fire he fuffed his pipe,
And never fashed his thoom,
But titt’rin’ in a corner stood
The gawky sisters four,
A winters nicht for me they micht
Hae stood ahint the door.
There’s meikle bliss &c.
THE KISS AHINT THE DOOR.

f I ^HERE’S meikle bliss in ae fond kiss,

A
Whiles mair than in a score ;
But wae betak’ th*3 ; ajw’in’ smack
I took ahint the door.

0 laddie whisht! for sic a fright

1 ne’er was in afore,
Fu’ brawly did my mither hear
The kiss ahint the door.
The wa s are thick, ye need’na fear,
But gin they jeer or mock,
I’ll say it was a startit cork,
Or wyte the rusty lock.
There’s meikle bliss, etc.

We stappit ben, while Maggie’s face

Was like a lowin’ coal,
And as for me, I could ha’e crept
Into a rabbit’s hole ;
The mither look’t, sauff’s how she look’t!
Thae mithers are a bore,
An’ gleg as ony cat to hear
A kiss ahint the door.
There’s meikle bliss, etc.

The douce gudeman, though he was there,

As weel micht been in Rome ;
For by the fire he fuffed his pipe,
And never fashed his thoom,
But titt’rin’ in a corner stood
The gawky sisters four,
A winter’s nicht for me they micht
Hae stood ahint the door.
There’s meikle bliss, etc.
Hes a cronie d mine.
126

He’s a cronie o’ mine.

Words by Arranged by
A. Maclagan. John Thomson.

Lively. 8'

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Yo’ll mount your bit naig_ gie, an’ ride your wa’s doun, ’Bout a mile an’ a

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 127

2.
Ye’ll fin’ ’ini, as 1 do, a trustworthy chiel,
Weel temper’d wi’ wit frae his head to his heelj
Wi’ a soul in his body, Auld Nick ne’er could clout.
An’ a spark in his throat, that’s richt ill to droon out:
Has this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine.
For a de’il o’ a drouth has this cronie o’ mine.
3.
Up agin the auld gable ’tis like you may view,
A cart without trams, or a couterless plough,
An auld teethless harrow, a brechen-ring rent,
Wi’ some mair broken gear, that’s a’ there to be ment
By this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine;
He’s a richt handy craftsman, this cronie o’ mine.
4.
There’s an auld broken sign-board looks to the high-road.
That tells ilka ane where his nag may be shod;
There’s twa or three wordies that ye’ll hae to spell.
But ye needna fin’ fau’t, for he wrote it himsel’;
This cronie o’mine, this cronie o’mine 1
He’s an aid’ farren carle, this cronie o’ mine.
5.
Twa th ree chiels frae the toun-en’ are sure to be there
There’s the bauld-headed butcher, wha takes aye the chair,
’Mong the queerest auld fallows, ae way an’ anither.
That e’er in this world were clubbit thegither;
A’ cronies o’ mine, a’ cronies o’ mine;
They’ll a’ mak’ye welcome, thae cronies o’mine.
6.
Then the Vulcan his greybeard is aye sure to draw,
Frae a black sooty hole that ye’ll see i’ the wa’.
An’ lang ere it’s empty, frien’, I meikle doubt.
If the tae chap kens weel what the tither’s about,
A’ cronies o’ mine, a’ cronies o’ mine.
Oh! be sure that ye ca’on thae cronies o’mine.
7.
Come noo, my gude frien, gies a shake o’ your haun’.
The night’s wearin’ thro’, an’ we baith maun be gaun;
The callan’ will bring doun your naig in a blink.
But before that ye mount, ance again let us drink
To this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine —
Here’s lang life,an’pith,to this cronie o’mine.
128
HE’S A CRONIE O’ MINE.

YE’LL mount your bit naiggie, an’ ride your wa’s doun,
’Bout a mile an’ a hauf frae the neist borough toun,
There wons an auld blacksmith, wi’ Janet, his wife,
An’ a queerer auld carle ye ne’r met a’ your life,
Than this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine,
Oh! be sure that ye ca’ on this cronie o’ mine.

Ye’ll fin’ him, as I do, a trustworthy chiel,

Weel temper’d wi’ wit frae his head to his heel ;
Wi’ a soul in his body, auld Nick ne’er could clout,
An’ a spark in his throat that’s richt ill to droon out;
Has this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine,
For a de’il o’ a drouth has this cronie o’ mine.

Up agin the auld gable ’tis like you may view,

A cart without trams, or a couterless plough,
An auld teethless harrow, a brechen-ring rent,
Wi’ some mair broken gear, that’s a’ there to be ment
By this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine ;
He’s a richt handy craftsman, this cronie o’ mine.

There’s an auld broken signboard looks to the high-road

That tells ilka ane where his nag may be shod ;
There’s twa or three wordies that ye’ll hae to spell,
But ye needna’ fin’ fau’t, for he wrote it himsel’ ;
This cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine ;
H e’s an aul’ farren carle, this cronie o’ mine.

Twa three chiels frae the toun-en’ are sure to be there—

There’s the bald-headed butcher wha takes aye the chair,
’Mong the queerest auld fallows, ae way an’ anither,
That e’er in this world were clubbit thegither ;
A’ cronies o’ mine, a’ cronies o’ mine ;
They’ll a’ mak’ ye welcome, thae cronies o’ mine.

Then the Vulcan his greybeard is aye sure to draw,

Frae a black sooty hole that ye’ll see i’ the wa’,
An’ lang ere it’s empty, frien’, I meikle doubt,
If the tae chap kens weel what the tither’s about;
A’ cronies o’ mine, a’ cronies o’ mine ;
Oh! be sure that ye ca’ on thae cronies o’ mine,

Come noo, my gude frien’ gies a shake o’ your haun’,

The night’s wearin’ thro’, an’ we baith maun be gaun ;
The callan’ will bring doun your naig in a blink,
But before that ye mount, ance again let us drink
To this cronie o’ mine, this cronie o’ mine—
Here’s lang life, an’ pith, to this cronie o’ mine.
 129-

Mairi Lagbacb.

Lovely Mary.
130
Mairi Laghach
Lovely Mary.
Words by JOHN MACDONALD. LOCHBROOM. Symphonies and Accompaniments by
Translation by Nigel Macneill. WS.Roddie.

PIANO.

B'og bha mis’ is Mair_ i ’M fas _ aich_ean Ghlinn_smeoil

Young I rov’d with Ma _ ry. In yon lone Glens _ meoil.

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’Nuair ehuir mac_an Bhen_uis, Saigh _ ead gheur’nara fheoil. Thar-ruing sinn ri cheil- e
When the dart of Cu _ pid. Pierc’d me to the soul. With such lov _ ing fond_ness

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Ann an eud cho beo ’S nach robh air an t_saogh_al A thug gaol cho rnbr.
We to _ go _ ther drewj That none un_der hea _ ven, Ev _ er lov’d so true.

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Ho, mo Mhair_ i lagh.ach, ’s tu mo Mhair_ i bhinn. Ho, mo Mhair_ i lagh_ach

Oh, my love _ ly Ma _ ry, oh my pret-ty love. Gen _ tie kind _ ly Ma _ ry.

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2.
’S trie bha mis’ is Mairi
Falbh nam fasach fial.
Gun smuaintean air fal-bheart.
Gun ehail gu droeh ghniomh:
Cupid ga-n ar tiiladh
Ann an cairdeas dianj
’S barr nan craobh mar sgail duinn
’Nuair a b’aird’ a’ghrian.
3.
Ged bu leamsa Alb’
A h-airgead is a maoin,
Cia mar bhithinn sona
Gun do ehomunn gaoil?
B’annsa bhi ’gad phbgadh
Le deagh choir dliomh fhein
Na ged fhaighinn stbras
Na Roinn-Ebrp’ gu loir.
4.
Tha do bhroilleach soluis
Lan do shonas graidhj
Uehd is gile sheallas
Na eal’ air an t-snamh
Tha do mhin-shlios fallain
Mar chanach a’ ehairj
Muineal mar an fhaoilean
Fo’n aodan is aillt’
5.
Cha robh ineal-ciiiil
A thuradh riamh fo’n ghrein
A dh’ aithriseadh air choir
Gach cebl bhiodh againn fhein:
Uiseag air gach Ibnan,
Smebrach air gach geig,
Cuthag is "gug-gug” aic’
Madain chubhraidh Cheit’
131
2.
Oftentimes with Mary
To the hill I strayedj
Innocent and happy
Through the grassy glade:
Cupid ever busy
Teaching us to love.
As we rested fondly
In the sun-lit grove.
3.
Though the wealth of Albion
Were assigned to me.
How could I be happy.
Dear one, without thee?
I would rather kiss thee
As my own true bride
Than possess the treasures
Found in Europe wide.
4.
Thine the snowy bosom
r
Fill’d w ith love for me.
Breast of beauty fairer
Than the swan on sea:
Thine the neck that’s whiter
Than the cannach down.
Thine the face of brightness
That ne’er knows a frown.
5.
Nought that men invented.
Pipe nor harp, could play
Music with the sweetness
Of our love-born lay:
With the larks above us.
Thrushes on the spray.
Cuckoos in the greenwood.
Warbling in the May.
132.
MAIRI LAGHACH

Lovely Mary.

J^’OG bha mis’ is Miliri, 'Y'OUNG I rov’d with Mary,

’M fasaichean Ghlinnsmeoil, In yon lone Glensmeoil,
’Nuair chuir macan Bhbnuis, When the dart of Cupid,
Saighead gheur’nam fheoil, Pierc’d me to the soul.
Tharruing sinn ri chbile. With such loving fondness,
Ann an end cho beo; We together drew;
'S nach robh air an tsaoghal, That none under heaven,
A thug gaol cho mbr. Ever lov’d so true.
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, Oh, my lovely Mary,
’S tu mo Mhairi bhinn, Oh my pretty love,
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, Gentle kindly Mary,
’S tu mo Mhairi ghrinn. My own tender dove,
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, Oh, my lovely Mary,
’S tu mo Mhairi bhinn, Fairer than the morn
Mhairi bhoidheach, lurach, My own pretty Mary,
Rugadh anns na glinn. In the Highlands born.
’S trie bha mis’ is Mairi Oftentimes with Mary
Falbh nam fasach fial, To the hill I strayed;
Gun smuaintean air fal-bheart, Innocent and happy
Gun chail gu droch ghniomh : Through the grassy glade :
Bupid ga-n ar taladh Cupid ever busy
Ann an cairdeas dian ; Teaching us to love.
’S barr nan craobh mar sgail duinn As we rested fondly
’Nuair a b’aird’ a’ ghrian. In the sun-lit grove.
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, etc. Oh, my lovely Mary, etc.

Ged bu leamsa Alb’ Though the wealth of Albion

A h-airgead is a maoin, Were assigned to me,
Cia mar bhithinn sona How could I be happy,
Gun do chomunn gaoil ? Dear one, without thee ?
B’annsa bhi ’gad phogadh I would rather kiss thee
Le deagh choir dhomh fhfein As my own true bride
Na ged fhaighinn stbras Than possess the treasures
Na Roinn-Ebrp’ gu Ibir. Found in Europe wide.
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, etc. Oh, my lovely Mary, etc.
Tha do bhroilleach soluis Thine the snowy bosom
Lan do shonas graidh ; Fill’d with love for me,
Uehd is gile sheallas Breast of beauty fairer
Na eal’ air an t-snamh Than the swan on sea :
Tha do mhin-shlios fallain Thine the neck that’s whiter
Mar chanach a’ chair ; Than the cannach down,
Muineal mar an fhaoilean Thine the face of brightness
Fo’n aodan is aillt’. That ne’er knowns a frown.
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, etc. Oh, my lovely Mary, etc.
Cha robh ineal ciiiil Nought that men invented,
A thuradh riamh fo’n ghrhin Pipe nor harp could play
A dh’ aithriseadh air choir Music with the sweetness
Gach ceol bhiodh againn fhbin; Of our love-born lay :
Uiseag air gach lonan, With the larks above us,
Smeorach air gach geig, Thrushes on the spray,
Cuthag is “gug-gug” aic’ Cuckoos in the greenwood,
Medain chhbhraidh Cheit’. Warbling in the May.
Ho, mo Mhairi laghach, etc. Oh, my lovely Mary, etc.
The Highland Laddie.
134

The Highland Laddie.

Old Ballad.
Arranged by
V'jS'h
r
' • r- John Thomson.

<3.. r: d I m:—. f: m I s . 1: s I m1:—: d‘ I d1: s : m I f . s: 1 I s:—. f: m I m . r :—: d

 CHORUS. 135
I I s : d!;-l in'i-.r1: A11 rl. s:-:f I m. s: m1 I s:-:d' I t:—: rl I rl. s:-: f I m d'U't:—: 1

M i Q* p b
O my bon_nie Higli_land laddie,my handsome smiling1 Highland laddie,May heav’n still guard,and

h
¥
m m
f
t
m i m '
m

s:—: fl in1:—: r1 I m1:-. r1: d1 I 1:—. t : d1 I s:-. 1 : si m. d .

The bravest beau in burrows town,

In a’ his airs,with art made ready.
Compar’d to him he’s but a clownj
He’s finer far in his tartan plaidie.
O my bonnie &c.
3.
Oe’r benty hill, with him I’ll run.
And leave my Lowland kin and daddy;
Frae winters cauld, and summer sun.
He’ll screen me wi’ his Highland plaidie.
O my bonnie &c.
4.
Few compliments between us pass,
I ca’ him my dear Highland laddie;
And he ca’s me his Lowland lass,
Syne row’s me in beneath his plaidie.
O my bonnie &c.
5.
Nae greater joy I’ll e’er pretend,
Than that his love prove true and steady.
Like mine to him,which ne’er shall end.
While heav’n preserves my Highland laddie.
O my bonnie &c.
136
THE HIGHLAND LADDIE.
(Old Ballad.)

^ | A H E Lowland lads think they are fine.

A
But oh ! they’re vain and idly gaudy,
How much unlike the graceful’ mein,
And manly looks o’ my Highland laddie.
Oh! my bonnie Highland laddie,
My handsome, smiling, Highland laddie,
May heaven still guard, and love reward
The Lowland lass and her Highland laddie.

The bravest beau in burrows town,

In a’ his airs, with art made ready,
Compar’d to him he’s but a clown ;
He’s finer far in his tartan plaidie.
O, my bonnie, etc.

O’er benty hill, with him I’ll run,

And leave my Lowland kin and daddy ;
Frae winter’s cauld and summer sun,
He’ll screen me wi’ his Highland plaidie.
O, my bonnie, etc.

Few compliments between us pass,

I ca’ him my dear Highland laddie ;
And he ca’s me his Lowland lass,
Syne row’s me in beneath his plaidie.
O, my bonnie, etc.

Nae greater joy I’ll e’er pretend,

Than that his love prove true and steady,
Like mine to him, which ne’er shall end,
While heaven preserves my Highland laddie.
O, my bonnie, etc.

%
Gartmore Braes.
138

Gartmore Braes.

Words by Music by R. SEVENDALE.

I. CHIRREY. Arranged by JOHN THOMSON.

Andante amoroso.

m :—: s 1 f : 1 : d‘ I s ; m: d I r :—: f I f m :—: d 1 s : f : m I 1: • t: d' J s :—: s

1 : —: t. d‘l s : m : 1 I s : d1: mJ mr :—: d I m : s : d1 J f : 1 : d' I m. f: r J d : d1

 139

2.
There lightly will we spend the day.
On mossy bank or broomy brae.
Or wand’ring where the heather blooms.
The breezes fill wi’ saft perfumes.
Nae gloomy cares shall thee annoy,
Nor fear o’ want thy peace destroy,
No,- I’ll gie thee baith wealth and ease,
An busk thee braw on Gartmore braes.
3.
Time frae thy cheek the rose may pu’
But let him a’ sic’ charms subdue,
Th’ unfading treasures o’ thy mind,
To thee, my soul will closer bind:
On thee, who taught me first to love,
My fancy’s fixed, it cannot rove,
An’ but to face my kintra’s faes
I’ll near leave thee, or Gartmore braes.
 GARTMORE BRAES.

A GAIN the smilin’ month o’ May,

Her fragrant beauties a’ display,

An’ sweet the groves an’ woods amang,

Ilk birdie chants its cheerfu’ sang;

Come then my love, my charming fair,

O come, an’ I will lead thee, where

The Forth, in infant beauty strays,

Through flow’ry glens ’mang Gartmore braes.

There lightly will we spend the day,

On mossy bank or broomy brae,

Or wand’ring where the heather blooms

The breezes fill wi’ saft perfumes.

Nae gloomy cares shall thee annoy,

Nor fear o’ want thy peace destroy,

No ; I’ll gie thee baith wealth and ease,

An’ busk thee braw on Gartmore braes.

Time frae thy cheek the rose may pu’,

But let him a’ sic’ charms subdue,

Th’ unfading treasures o’ thy mind,

To thee, my soul will closer bind ;

On thee, who taught me first to love,

My fancy’s fixed, it cannot rove,

An’ but to face my kintra’s faes

I’ll ne’er leave thee, or Gartmore braes.

Fionn Airidh.

Farewell to Fiunary.*
142

FAREWELL TO F I U IN A R Y.
Arranged by
Gaelic translation by A. Sinclair.
W. S. RODDIE.
English words by Rev4 Df Norman M? Leod.

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PIANO.

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’m bata featheamh fo a siuil Gu’m thoirt a null o Fhionn _ air _ idh.
boat is float _ ing on the tide, That wafts me off from Finn _ ar _ y.

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Bej'in with the Chorus.

 CHORUS. 143

1, 1, : d d m : s 1. S : s., m|r., d:d

Eir _ ich a _ gus tiug-_ a inn, O! Mo shor_aidh slan le Fiona _air _ idh.
We must up and be a _ way. Fare _ well. fare_well to Finn _ ar _ y.

ij! A1, j' v Si J~ > ^ i i

211*
Tha iomadh mile ceaagal blath
Mar shaijghdean annam fein an sas;
Mo chridhe ’n impis a bhi sg'ainnt’
A chionn bhi fag-ail Fhionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, «£re.
a™1
Bu trie a gdiabh
O mi sgriob
O leam fein
Mu’n euairt air luehairt Fhinn, an treun,
S a dh" eisd mi sgeuiachdan na Feinn’
’G an cur an ceill am Fionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, <fcc.
4-lb
S bu trie a sheall mi, feasgar Mairt,
Far am biodh Oisein seinn a dhan,
A coimhead grein’ aig iomadh trath,
Dol seach gach la ’s mi ’m Fionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, <ferc.
2 ib
A thousand, thousand tender ties
Awake, this day, my plaintive sighs;
My heart within me almost dies
At thought of leaving Fiunary.
Ayreech aghus, <ferc.
3rd
With pensive steps Ive often strolled
Where Fingals Castle stood of old,
And listened while the shepherd told
The legend tales o Fiunary
Ayreech aghus, drc.
4_th
I’ve often paused at close of day
Where Ossian sang his martial lay:
And viewed the suns departing ray
Wand'ring o’er Dun Fiunary.
Ayreech aghus, <6rc.
H4
FIONN
Farewell to Fiunary.
^ | ''HA ’n la-tha math’s an soirbheas ciuin ;
Tha ’n nine ruith’s an t-am dhuinn dluth ;
Tha ’m bata featheamh fo a siuil
Gu ’m thoirt a null o Fhionn-airidh.
Eir-ich a-gus tiug-ainn, O !
Eir-ich a-gus tiug-ainn, O !
Eir-ich a-gus tiug-ainn, O !
Mo shor-aidh slan le Fionn-airidh.
Tha iomadh mile ceangal blath
Mar shaighdean annam fein an-sas,
Mo chridhe ’n impis a bhi sgainnt’
A chionn bhi fagail Fhionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, etc.
Bu trie a ghabh mi sgriob learn fein
Mu’n cuairt air luchairt Fhinn, an treun,
’S a dh’ eisd mi sgeuiachdan na Feinn’.
’G an cur an ceill am Fionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, etc.
’S bu trie a sheall mi, feasgar Mairt,
Far am biodh Oisein seinn a dhan,
A’ coimhead grein’ aig iomadh trath,
Dol seach gach la’s mi ’m Fionn-airidh.
Eirich agus, etc.
* Begin with the Chorus.
AIRIDH.
r
I ^HE wind is fair, the day is fine,
^ And swiftly, swiftly, runs the time ;
The boat is floating on the tide
That wafts me off from Fiunary.
We must up and be away,
We must up and be away,
We must up and be away,
Farewell, farewell to Fiunary.
A thousand, thousand tender ties
Awake, this day, my plaintive sighs ;
My heart within me almost dies
At thought of leaving Fiunary.
We must up, etc.
With pensive steps Eve often strolled
Where Fingal’s Castle stood of old,
And listened while the shepherd told
The legend tales of Fiunary.
We must up, etc.
I’ve often paused at close of day,
Where Ossian sang his martial lay ;
And viewed the sun’s departing ray,
Wand’ring o’er Dun Fiunary.
We must up, etc.
 145

"The Braes d Balqubidder.

146

The Braes o’ Balquhidder.

Words by Arranged by
Tannahill. John Thomson.

Moderato.

Pup
PIANO.

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s

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Will ye go, las.sie go, to the braes o’ Bal.quhidder, Where the

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 147
REFRAIN.
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i
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l;in<2f bim.nu'r clay ’Mang* the braes o’ Bal_ quliidder Will ye go, las_ sie go, to the

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braes o’ Bal _ quhid _ der; W here the blae _ ber _ ries grow, ’Mang the

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bon_ nie bloom_in’ hea_ther; W ill ye go, las _ sic

2. 3.
I will twine thee a bow’r, When the rude wintry win’
By the clear siller fountain. Idly raves round our dwelling.
And i’ll cover it o’er And the roar o’ the linn
Wi’ the llow’rs o’ the mountain; On the night breeze is swelling;
I will range through the wilds. Sae merrily we’ll sing
And the deep glens sae dreary. As the storm rattles o’er us,
And return wi’ the spoils. Till the deer shieling ring
To the bower o’ my dearie. Wi’ the light liltin’ chorus.
W ill ye go, etc. Will ye go, etc.
4.
Now the summer is in prime,
Wi’ the flow’rs richly blooming.
And the wild mountain thyme
A’ the moorlands perfuming:
To our dear native scenes
Let us journey together,
W here glad innocence reigns
’Mang the braes of Balquhidder.
Will ye go,etc.
THE BRAES O’ BALQUHIDDER.

WILL ye go, lassie go,

To the braes o’ Balquhidder,
Where the blaeberries grow,
’Mang the bonnie bloomin’ heather ;
Where the deer and the roe,
Lightly bounding together,
Sport the lang simmer day
’Mang the braes o’ Balquhidder.
Will ye go, lassie go,
To the braes o' Balquhidder,
Where the blaeberries grow,
’Mang the bonnie bloomin’ heather ;
Will ye go, lassie go.

I will twine thee a bower,

By the clear siller fountain,
And I’ll cover it o’er
Wi’ the flowers o’ the mountain ;
I will range through the wilds,
And the deep glens sae dreary,
And return wi’ the spoils,
To the bower o’ my dearie.
Will ye go, etc.

When the rude wintry win’

Idly raves round our dwelling,
And the roar o’ the linn
On the night breeze is swelling ;
Sae merrily we’ll sing
As the storm rattles o’er us,
Till the deer shieling ring
Wi’ the light liltin’ chorus.
Will ye go, etc.

Now the summer is in prime,

Wi’ the flowers richly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
A’ the moorlands perfuming :
To our dear native scenes
Let us journey together,
Where glad innocence reigns
’Mang the braes o’ Balquhidder.
Will ye go, etc
 149

Bonnie Lizzie Baillie.

150
Bonnie Lizzie Baillie

Words from Arranged by

Herds Collection 1776. John Thomson.

Andante moderato.
voice.

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mm

1 : . s I 1 . t : d1 • 1 s :■ . m I d d
 151

2.
Im sure they wadna ca’ me wise,
Gin I wad gang1 wi’ you,Sir;
For I can neither card nor spin,
Nor yet milk ewe or cow, Sir’.’
Said bonnie Lizzie Baillie.
3.
u
My bonnie Lizzie Baillie,
Let nane o’thae thing’s daunt ye;
Ye’ll hae nae need to card or spin,
Your mither weel can want ye’’
My bonnie Lizzie Baillie.
4.
Noo’ she’s cast aff her bonnie shoon,
Made o’ the gilded leather,
And she’s put on her Highland brogues;
To skip amang the heather.
Has bonnie Lizzie Baillie.
BONNIE LIZZIE BAILLIE.

M Y bonnie Lizzie Baillie,

I'll row ye in my plaidie ;

And ye maun gang awa’ we me,

And be a Highland lady.”

My bonnie Lizzie Baillie.

“ I’m sure they wadna ca’ me wise,

Gin I wad gang wi’ you, sir ;

For I can neither card nor spin,

Nor yet milk ewe or cow, sir,”

Said bonnie Lizzie Baillie.

“ My bonnie Lizzie Baillie,

Let nane o’ thae things daunt ye ;

Ye’ll hae nae need to card or spin,

Your mither weel can want ye.”

My bonnie Lizzie Baillie.

Noo she’s cast aff her bonnie shoon,

Made o’ the gilded leather,

And she’s put on her H ighland brogues ;

To skip amang the heather,

Has bonnie Lizzie Baillie.
Mairi Bban Og.

Fair Young Mary.

154
sa/aataa QaajiKi

FAIR YOUNG MARY.

Arranged by
W. S. RODDIE. Duncan Ban MacIntyre.

PIANO.

wm

f T r ^ l

1 :—. till s :—: m I m: r I r : d : r I m:—: lx I b : s, : nx s.:—:—I—:—: m,

tt ■ r f . i J... S' S’ ^ £

cumh_nan_tan teanns le banntaibh dain_gean, Le snaim a dh‘fha_nas’s nach treig. Se

covlnantsand bands. So strongand last _ ing; A knot now ties thee to me And

d’fliaotainn air laimh le gradh gach car_aid’Rinn slain _ te mhair_ eann am
that thou art mine, thy friends con_senting;Fills me with health and with
n i rn-
£ m
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f
2nd
’Sin ’n uair ’chuir Cupid ant-idtach a’m’ bhroilleach
D’a shaicrhdean corranach gaoil,
A dhruigh air mo chuislean, elmir luchd air mo choluinn
Leis ’n do thuit mi,ge b’oil learn,’s gu’n d’aom;
Dh ’innis mi ’n sgeul do’n te rinn m’acain,
Nach leigh a chaisgeadh mo gbaoid;
’S e leigheas gach creuobd i fein le ’feartan
Theachd reidh Vm ghlaeaibh mar shaoil.
3rd
Bheirinn mo phog do’n og mhnaoi shomalt’
A dh’fhas gu boinneanta, caoin,
Gu mileanta, comhnard, seoeail, foinmdh_
Do chomhradh gheibh mi gu saor:
Tha mi air sheol gu leoir a’d’chomain,
A’ mhoid’s a chuir thu gu faoin
Do m’smaointean gorach,prois nam boireannach,
’S coir dhomh fuireach le h-aon.
4th
Na’m faighinn an drasd do charadh daingean
An aite falaich o’n eug;
Ged thigeadh e ’d dhail, a's m’ fhagail falamh
Cha b’aill learn bean eil’a'd' dheigh:
Cha toir mi gu brath dbuit dranndan teallaich,
Mu’n ardaich aileag do chleibh,
Ach raogha gacli manrain, gradh a’s furan,
Cho blath’s a b' urrainn do m’ bheul.
155
chre
glee.
m
2nd
For Cupid that Elf bad shot a quiver
Of sharp wing’d darts in my breast,
That dried up my pulse and life, and downward
My strength a sore burden press’d.
I then told the cause of my great anguish,
No leech could bless me with rest;
But my wounds with her virtues she did cure them;
As me she gently caress’d.
3ril
Then kiss’d I the gentle, dear, soft maiden
Wlio’d grown up so mild,and so sweet
So comely, so tall, so true and tender,
So womanly, graceful and neat:
And I am proud to know I’m favour’d,
Such love as hers to meet;
M^ien her vows and herself so true, she gives me,
A cheaply got bargain I greet.
All1
O could I but take thee, love, and hide thee
Away from the reach of decay!
For now should grim death leave me without thee,
I’d not love another for aye;
But ne’er shall the hearths harsh wrangling tease thee
Nor make thy clear temper its prey,
Thou only shalt hear the sweetest of measures,
My lips can sing or can say.
 156
MAIRI
Fair Young Mary.
A MAIRI Bhan Og, ’stu ’n oigh th’air m’ aire,
Ri m’ bheo bhi far am bith’nn fein
O’n fhuair mi ort coir cho mor’s bu mhaith learn;
Le posadh ceangailt’ o’n chleir;
Le cumhnantan teann’s le banntaibh daingean,
I>e snaim a dh’fhanas’s nach treig
Se d’fhaotainn air laimh le gradh gach caraid
’Rinn slainte mhaireann am chre
’Sin ’n uair ’chuir Cupid antultach a’m’ bhroilleach
D’a shaighdean corranach gaoil,
A dhruigh air mo chuislean, chuir luchd air mo choluinn
Leis ’n do thuit mi, ge b’ oil leam, ’s gu’n d’ aom;
Dh ’innis mi ’n sgeul do’n te rinn m’ acain,
Nach leigh a chaisgeadh mo ghaoid;
’S e leigheas gach creuchd i fein le ’feartan
Theachd reidh ’a’m ghlacaibh mar shaoil.
Bheirinn mo phog do’n og mhnaoi shomalt’
A dh’ fhas gu boinneanta, caoin,
Gu mileanta, comhnard, seocail, foinnidh—
Do chomhradh gheibh mi gu saor
Tha mi air sheol gu leoir a’d’ chomain,
A’ mhoid’s a chuir thu gu faoin
Do m’ smaointean gorach, prois nam boireannach,
’S coir dhomh fuireach le h-aon.
Na’m faighinn an drasd do charadh daingean
An aite falaich o’n eug;
Ged thigeadh e’d dhail, a’s m’ fhagail falamh
Cha b’aill leam bean eil’ a’d' dheigh :
Cha toir mi gu brath dhuit dranndan teallaich,
Mu’n ardaich aileag do chleibh,
Ach raogha gach manrain, gradh a’s furan,
Cho blath’s a b’ urrainn do m’ bheul.
BHAN OG.
'JyJY Mairi Bhan Og, ihou girl e’er thought of;
Oh where I am still may thou be
Since law-given right, by me long wish’d for,
I’ve got, my lov’d one, o’er thee
With cov’nants and bands, so strong and lasting,
A knot now ties thee to me
And that thou art mine, thy friends consenting;
Fills me with health and with glee.
For Cupid that elf had shot a quiver
Of sharp wing’d darts in my breast,
That dried up my pulse and life, and downward
My strength a sore burden press’d.
I then told the cause of my great anguish,
No leech could bless me with rest;
But my wounds with her virtues she did cure them ;
As me she gently caress’d.
Then kiss’d I the gentle, dear, soft maiden
Who’d grown up so mild, and so sweet
So comely, so tall, so true and tender,
So womanly, graceful and neat:
And I am proud to know I’m favour’d,
Such love as hers to meet;
When her vows and herself so true, she gives me
A cheaply got bargain I greet.
O could I but take thee, love, and hide thee
Away from the reach of decay !
For now should grim death leave me without thee,
I’d not love another for aye;
But ne’er shall the hearth’s harsh wrangling tease thee
Nor make thy clear temper its prey,
Thou only ghalt hear the sweetest of measures,
My lips can sing or can say.
The Bonnie Burn.
158

The Bonnie Burn.

Words by Music by
W A. Sloan Esq. John Thomson.

voice.

PIANO.

I mi : Si I 1, :—. d I d : — I —: . Si I d :—. r I m : f Is : . II s : f

j J)| J 71
4^ I i - • *• p r r ir i
she was by my side, And il _ ka wim _ pie o’ your weet, that
 159

There’s ne’er a stream that seeks the sea,

Nor river hauf sae dear tae me
As thou, wee nameless burn;
That rows sae gently roun’ the field,
That lies beside my lassie’s bield
Where aft a wanton wean she brield;
Wi’ mony a merry turn.
3.
But noo$ alakel my lassie gangs
Her leafu’ lane, tae hear your sangs;
Sweet burn, that sings sae clear!
Sae whan she gazes on your brink,
Wi’ tentie ears your muse tae drink,
Oh! sing a sang ’ll mak’ her think:
O’ ane that lo’es her dear.
i6o

THE BONNIE BURN.

o H ! bonnie burn ! sae cauld and clear,

Ye sang sae sweedy on my ear,

When she was by my side,

And ilka wimple o’ your weet,

That aft has laved her wee wee feet,

Was like a smile the lass to greet,

I woo’d to be my bride.

There’s ne’er a stream that seeks the sea.

Nor river hauf sae dear tae me

As thou, wee nameless burn ;

That rows sae gently roun’ the field,

That lies beside my lassie’s bield

Where aft a wanton wean she brield ;

Wi’ mony a merry turn.

But noo, alake ! my lassie gangs

Her leafu’ lane, tae hear your sangs ;

Sweet burn, that sings sae clear ;

Sae when she gazes on your brink,

Wi’ tentie ears your muse tae drink,

Oh ! sing a sang ’ll mak’ her think

O’ ane that lo’es her dear.

Blanches Song.

They bid me sleep.

(FROM THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE.”)

162

Blanche’s Song.

(They bid me sleepy

From the “LADY OF THE LAKE.’

Words by Arranged by
Sir Walter Scott. Bart. John Thomson.

Andante.

m
PIANO. p

d' : d1 s I 1 , dl .—: . f : r ., 1 I f • m : . d : f ., s
 I f . : . s : 1 . t I A1 . s : . s : f . xn 1 s f .—:—i m : r . A

I .—: . f : 1 < s t f I A .—: . A : tj . l! I ^ .—: . si : A . m

| f . 1 : . A1 : A . A1 I A1 : t . 1 : s . f I m, s. 1, t: A1 : . A
 1 t : d' . m1, r11 d1. t : s : s, m1.r1, d1 I t, 1. s, f: r . 1: s ., f I m,d : . s : s . s

fe.—1 : t . d‘ I r1 :—: ti t r 4 s I m . , d' : t : 1 ■, s i s .—:—. r : r . m

Eg?
love would meet me there, And my true love would meet me there, But woe be _

j[.: . J '
t*1 j-i • UJ $ m

m
& y m
 1 . t A1 . s : . d : Si .

m ■ m1 : m' i f' . r1, t : *

d1.—: t . 1 : s . f m : : d se I se , 1 . t, A‘: d1, s . , s : m - r , d
, /Tn Ov

scream. I on _ ly wak ed I wak’d to sob, to sob and

3EE
wm

-0'"
166

BLANCHE’S SONG.

They bid me sleep.

(FROM THE “ LADY OF THE LAKE ”)

^ | ^HEY bid me sleep, they bid me pray,

They say my brain is warp’d and wrung—

I cannot sleep on Highland brae,

I cannot pray in Highland tongue.

But were I now where Allan glides,

Or heard my native Devan’s tides,

So sweetly would I rest and pray

That Heav’n would close my wintry day.

’Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,

They made me to the church repair ;

It was my bridal morn, they said,

And my true love would meet me there.

But woe betide the cruel guile,

That drown’d in blood the morning smile !

And woe betide the fairy dream!

I only wak’d to sob and scream.

 167

An gille dubh, ciar-dhubh.

The DARK-HAIRED YOUTH.

 168
&K) 0aiHLa ©aaaaas, ©aasi^iDijaaaia

THE DARK HAIRED YOUTH.

Arranged by Gaelic Words Very Old.

W. S. RODDIE. Translation by PATTISON.
Tenderly.

fc- "JJ
1 Pfg IZZ
PIANO.
~G
9- !> ‘

KEY Bk
m :—•. r : d I d : d : nit I s1 : st : ^ I l! :—•. Si : (si) I m :—-. r : d

^4 r- r, ,j
Cha dir _ icb mi bruthacb,’S cha siu_bl ail mi m6in_ teach; Dh’fhalbh mogbuth
Once o’er the moor wending, or round the hill bend _ ing. Gay words and notes

s
I ^-i ^: i I d. :—. r : m. f
i w
2nd
Is truagh nach robh mise
’S an gille dubh, ciar-dhubh.
An aodann na beinne
Fo shileadh nan siantan-,
An lagan beag fasaich
No ’n ait-eigin diomhair,
’S cha gbabh mi foar liatl),
’S e tighinn fo m’ uidh.
3rd
Mo ghilie dubh, bbidheach,
Ge gbrach le each thu,
Dheanainn do phbsadh,
Gun debin do mo chairdean;
Shiubhlainn leat fada
Feadh lagan a's fasach,
’S cha ghabh mi fear Hath
’S tu tighinn fo in’ uidh.
4th
Is luaineach mo chadal
Bho mhadainn Di-ciadain;
Is bruaileanach m’ aigne
Mur furtaich thu, ehiall, orm;
’S mi ’n raoir air dhroch leaba,
Cha’n’fhad gus an Hath mi,
’S an gille dubh,ciar-dhubh,
A’tighinn fo m’ uidh.
THE DARK HAIRED YOUTH.
169
I 8:5:8! I m:in:r I d'. — : — II
rail.
m
2nd
And now that together,
Dubh ciar-dhubh, dubh ciar-dhubh,
We fac’d the rude weather
On hills bleak and blue,
Some peaceful spot near me,
Fd choose, and there cheer me;
No grey beard to fear me,
And thou in my view.
3rd
My bonny dubh,ciar-dhubh
Let sharp tongues assail thee
One heart will not fail thee
That knows to be true
Dubh ciar-dhubh, dubh ciar-dhubh,
Tho’ poor, poor thou be
No rich old man can please me
Like thee, love, like thee.
4th
In sadness oft sleeping,
I wake up, half weeping,
Such wild dreams come creeping
Over me, dear,
I’ve heard the old folks say,
That grief makes the hair gray;
Then, gillie dubh! this love may,
Make mine so, I fear.
 AN GILLE DUBH, CIAR-DHUBH.

The dark-haired Youth.

dirich mi bruthach, /^\NCE o’er the moor wending,

’S cha siu bhail mi mointeach ; Or round the hill bending,
Dh’ fhalbh mo ghuth cinn, Gay words and notes blending,
’S cha sheinn mi oran ; Spread far my good cheer,
Cha chaidil mi uair, For then my heart leaping,
Rho Luain gu domhnach, In waking and sleeping ;
’S an gille dubh, ciar-dhubh No dubh ciar-dhubh * keeping
A’ tighinn fo m’ uidh. Its joys from here.

Is truagh nach robh mise And now that together,

'S an gille dubh, ciar-dhubh, Dubh ciar-dhubh, dubh ciar-dhubh,
An aodann na beinne We fac’d the rude weather
Fo shileadh nan siantan ; On hills bleak and blue,
An lagan beag fasaich Some peaceful spot near me,
No ’n ait-eigin diomhair, I’d choose, and there cheer me ;
’S cha ghabh mi fear hath, No grey beard to fear me,
’S e tighinn fo m’ uidh. And thou in my view.

Mo ghille dubh, boidheach, My bonnie dubh, ciar-dhubh,

Ge gorach le each thu, Let sharp tongues assail thee,
Dheanainn do phosadh, One heart will not fail thee
Gun deoin do mo chairdean ; That knows to be true
Shiubhlainn leat fada Dubh ciar-dhubh, dhub ciar-dhubh,
Feadh lagan a’s fasach, Though poor, poor thou be,
’S cha ghabh mi fear hath No rich old man can please me
’S tu tighinn fo m’ uidh. Like thee, love, like thee.

Is luaineach mo chadal In sadness oft sleeping,

Bho mhadainn Di-ciadain ; 1 wake up, half weeping,
Is bruaileanach m’ aigne Such wild dreams come creeping
Mur furtaich thu, chiall, orm ; Over me, dear,
’S mi ’n raoir air dhroch leaba, I’ve heard the old folks say,
Cha’n’fhad gus an hath mi, That grief makes the hair gray ;
’S an gille dubh, ciar-dhubh, Then, gillie dubh ! this love may
A’ tighinn fo m’ uidh. Make mine so, I fear.
* Doo Keear-goo.
Banks of Loch Lomond.
172

Banks of Lochlomond.

Words by Arranged by
A Lady. John Thomson.
Andante cantabile.
m
rr
piano. r r:

Si li I d:d:dld:d.ml r. m: r . d I b : S! . b

^5
m
By yon bon _ nie banks, and by yon bon _ nie braes,Where the

^ f
r

M -W «r
 173
d:d.dld:m—, m| r.mrr.dll,: st. Si ^ d : d . d I d : m.s

1 :— I s :—. 1 I s : 1 . t I dl : s . m I f . m : r . d I 1, : s,. 1(

2.
’Twas there that we pairted in yon shady glen,
On the steep steep side o’ Benlomond?
Where in purple hue, the Hieland hills we view,
And the moon coming* out in the gloaming*?
Then ye’ll tak’ &c.
3.
The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping?
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho’ the waefu’ may cease frae their greeting.
Then ye’ll tak’ &c.
174

BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND.

yon bonnie banks, and by yon bonnie braes,

Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,

Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae

On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

Then ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,

And I’ll be in Scotland before ye!

But me and my true love will never meet again,

On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

’Twas there that we pairted in yon shady glen,

On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond!

Where in purple hue, the Hieland hills we view,

And the moon coming out in the gleamin’.

Then ye’ll tak’, etc.

The wee birdies sing, and the wild flowers spring,

And in sunshine the waters are sleeping ;

But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,

Though the waefu’ may cease fra their greeting.
Then ye’ll tak’, etc.
 i75

Ac fond kiss, and then we sever.

176
Ae fond Kiss and then we Sever.

Old Gaelic Air.

Words by Arranged by
Burns. John Thomson.

r I s m | r : d :— I m r I r : : d
 177
d sL I li : *dI 1 : s I s : —: 1 I s : —: r I m : s I 1 :— : s I d1:-: m

d :— : s, I 1, : d:— Im:—. r:in I s:—:1 I s :— : m I r : d :—

Slow.
I after fast verse only.
I in :—. r : m I —: 1 d :—

CODA.

2
fll ne’er blame my partial fancy,
Naething1 could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her,
Love hut her, and love for ever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met— or never parted
We had ne’er been broken hearted.
3
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure.
Ae fond kiss &c.
.78

AE FOND KISS, AND THEN WE SEVER.

E fond kiss, and then we sever,

Ae farewell, alas ! for ever,

Deep in heart wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,

Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee.

Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,

While the star of hope she leaves him ?

Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me ;

Dark despair around benights me.

I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy,

Naething could resist my Nancy ;

But to see her was to love her,

Love but her and love for ever.

Had we never loved sae kindly,

Had we never loved sae blindly,

Never met—or never parted,

We had ne’er been broken hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!

Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!

Thine be ilka joy and treasure,

Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure.

Ae fond kiss, etc.

%
Fear A Bhata.

The Boatman.
180
2 3 A ll A i3 5J A"\tA

THE BOATIY1 AIM

Arrang'od by Translation by
W.S. RODDIE.
L. MACBEAN.

Key D.
(r): r m | f : d1., 1 : 1 , s .f jm: s:l.,r jr:d.r:m.,r j^d 1, (r) : r m

trd h
^ J^i J WB i S
£ , . ,
’Stric mi sealltuinn oti chnoc a’s airde Dh’fheuch am faic mi fear a bha_ta, An tig- thu n
Irlimb the mountains and scan the ocean, For thee,my boatman,with fond do _ votion.When shall I

El mm m ^ ^ \
r r

-#—0-
 181
CHORUS.
: r xn I f : d1 1 1, s. f m : s :1 r d.r:m.,r r, d.— :li :r., m

t
Fhir a bha_ta, na ho _ ro ei _ le, Fhir a bha_ta, na ho_ro ei _ le, Fhir a
O, my boatman, na ho _ ro ai _ la, O, my boatman, na ho_ro ai _ la, O, my

f s f]. : • r*. j
J 1
f r

S trie mi foi^hneaehd de luehd nam bata.
Am fae iad thii, na'm bheil thu s'abhailt:
Aeh’s ann a tha gaeh aon diubh V raite,
Gur gbrach mi ma thu^ mi gradh dhuit.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, &c.
4,th
Ged a thuirt lad gu’n robh thu aotroin,
Cha do lughadaich sid mo ghaol ort,
Bi’dh tu in’ aisling aims an oidhche,
A’s aims a mhadaiun bidh mi ga d’fhoighneaehd.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, dee.
sib
Tha mo chairdean gu trie ag innseadh,
Gu\u feum mi d’aogas a chuir air dichuimhn-,’
Ach tha ’n comhairle dhomh cho diomhain,
S bhi pilleadh mara’s i tabhairt liouaidh.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, <fec.
et1?
Bidh mi tuille gu tirsach, deurach.
Mar eala bhan’s i an deigh a reubadh;
Guileag bais aic’air lochan feurach.
As each uile an deigh a treigsinn.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, dee.
3r«l
From passing boatmen,! d tain discover
II they have heard of, or seen my lover;
They never tell tue_Im only chided,
And told my heart has been sore misguided.
O, my boatman, dec.
4th
That thou’rt a rover my friends have told me.
But not the less to my heart I hold thee,
And every night in my dreams I see thee,
And still at dawn will the vision flee me.
O, my boatman, dec.
My friends oft tell me that I must sever
All thought of thee from my heart forever;
Their words are idle_my passion’s swelling,
Untamed as ocean, can brook no quelling
O, my boatman, dec.
My heart is weary with ceaseless wailing,
Like wounded swan when her strength is failing,
Her notes of anguish the lake awaken,
By all her comrades at last forsaken.
O, my boatman, dee.
 FEAR A
The Boatman.
9^TRIC mi sealltuinn o’n chnoc a’s airde
Dh’ fheuch am faic mi fear a bhata,
An tig thu’n diugh no an tig thu maireach ?
’Smur tig thu idir gur truagh a ta mi!
Fhir a bhata, na boro eile,
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile,
Fhir a bhata na horo eile,
Gu ma slan duit gach ait an teid thu !
Tha mo chridhe-sa briste, brixite ;
’S trie na deoir a ruith o m’ shuilean;
An tig thu nochd, na’m bi mo dhiiil riut ?
Na ’n diiin mi ’n dorus, le osna thursaich ?
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, etc.
’S trie mi foighneachd de luchd nam bkta,
Am fac iad thii, na’m bheil thu skbhailt:
Ach’s ann a tha gach aon diubh ’g relite,
Gur gorach mi ma thug mi gradh dhuit.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, etc.
Ged a thuirt iad gu’n robh thu aotrom,
Cha do lughadaich sid mo ghaol ort,
Bi’dh tu m’ aisling anns an bidhche,
A’s anns a mhadainn bidh mi ga d’ fhoighneachd.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, etc.
Tha mo chairdean gu trie ag innseadh,
Gu’m feum mi d’aogas a chuir air dichuimhn’;
Ach tha ’n comhairle dhomh cho diomhain,
’S bhi pilleadh mara’s i tabhairt lionaidh.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, etc.
Bidh mi tuille gu tiirsach, deurach,
Mar eala bhkn’s i an deigh a reubadh;
Guileag bids aic’ air lochan feurach,
A’s each uile an deigh a treigsinn.
Fhir a bhata, na horo eile, etc.
BHATA.
J CLIMB the mountains and scan the ocean,
For thee, my boatman, with fond devotion,
When shall I see thee, to-day? to-morrow,
Oh ! do not leave me in lonely sorrow.
O, my boatman, na horo aila,
O, my boatman, na horo aila,
O, my boatman, na horo aila.
Happy be thou where'er thou sailest!
Broken-hearted I droop and languish,
And frequent tears show my bosom’s anguish;
Shall I expect thee to-night to cheer me ?
Or close the door, sighing sad and weary ?
O, my boatman, etc.
From passing boatmen, I’d fain discover
If they have heard of, or seen my lover;
They never tell me—I’m only chided,
And told my heart has been sore misguided.
O, my boatman, etc.
That thou’rt a rover my friends have told me,
But not the less to my heart I hold thee,
And every night in my dreams I see thee,
And still at dawn will the vision flee me.
O, my boatman, etc.
My friends oft tell me that I must sever
All thought of thee from my heart forever;
Their words are idle—my passion’s swelling,
Untamed as ocean, can brook no quelling
O, my boatman, etc.
My heart is weary with ceaseless wailing,
Like wounded swan when her strength is failing,
Her notes of anguish the lake awaken,
By all her comrades at last forsaken.
O, my boatman, etc.
"The Banks of the Dee.
184

The Banks of the Dee.

Words by Arrang-ed by
John Tait. John Thomson.

piano.

1, I Sl :-:d m f I d Si Si: —. h : ti d . r
 185
m . f : m s :—: s 1 . s f I s : m : d d : m : s t : d1

on love _ ly Deel flow on thou sweet riv _ er, thy banks pur est streams,shall be

m m n n

But now he’s ^one from me, and left me thus mourning*
To quell the proud rebels for valiant is he.
But ah! there’s no hope of his speedy returning*
To wander ag*ain,on the banks of the Dee.
3.
He’s g*one hapless youth,o’er the loud roaring* billows,
The kindest, and sweetest, of all the g*ay fellows;
And left me to stray ’mong-st the once loved willows,
The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee.
4.
But time,and my prayers, may perhaps yet restore him,
Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me!
And when he returns with such care I’ll watch o’er him,
He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.
5.
The D ee shall then flow, all its beauties displaying*.
The lambs on its banks,shall ag-ain be seen playing*!
While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying*,
And tasting* ag-ain all the sweets of the Dee.
186
THE BANKS OF THE DEE.

’^J^WAS summer, so softly the breezes were blowiug,

And sweetly the blackbird sung from a tree,
At the foot of a rock, where the river was flowing ;
I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee.
Flow on lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river,
Thy bank’s purest stream shall be dear to me ever ;
Where I first gained the affection and favour of Jamie
The laddie that dwelt on the banks of the Dee.

But now he’s gone from me, and left me thus mourning,
To quell the proud rebels, for valiant is he,
But ah ! there’s no hope of his speedy returning,
To wander again on the banks of the Dee.

He’s gone, hapless youth, o’er the loud roaring billows,

The kindest, and sweetest, of all the gay fellows ;
And left me to stray ’mongst the once loved willows,
The lonliest maid on the banks of the Dee.

But time, and my prayers, may perhaps yet restore him,

Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me !
And when he returns, with such care I’ll watch o’er him,
He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.

The Dee shall then flow, all its beauties displaying,

The lambs on its banks shall again be seen playing!
While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying,
And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.
Aiild Scotia s Sangs.
188

Auld Scotia’s Sangs

Words by Music by
John Imlah. John Thomson.

m I r . m I d: s I f : —. s I m : s I 1: —. slf.m:r.d. I r:-

r p 7 r p
Auld Sco-tin’s saugs,auld Sco _ tia’s sangs,the strains o’ youth and yore! O

^
Pi

Key C. Key F.
r:—. mid: s I f:—.s lm: d'fl I mi : dl I m1. rl: d1 . t s
ir
lilt to me and I will list, will list them o’er and o’er! Though

P^f

m
f
 189
Sym: after i*J Verne. ^My Native Highland Home’.’

£mtf f Ff im If
-Wf iiii m a
"if
W
-M
i m
m m m

Sym: after 2”J Verne. ‘The Broom o’ Cowdenknowes’.’

**■-*-<
i
2 to 5
m
0f Qt*
ym j f ff £1 F F H tt i

They mak’ me present wi’ the past_they bring up fresh and fair,
The Bonnie Broom of Cowdenknowes’’The Bush abune Traquair”
The Dowie Dens of Yarrow,”or^The Birks of Invermay”
Or Catrine’s green and yellow woods in Autumns dwining day.
3.
They bring me back the holms and howes,whar siller burnies shine,
The Lea Rig’Vhar the gowans glint we pu’d in ^uld Lang Synel”
And mair than a’ the Trystin’ Thorn that blossomed down the vale,
Whar* gloamin* breathed sae sweetly—but far sweeter luve’s fond tale.
4.
Now melt we o’er the lay that wails for Floddens day o’ dule,
And now some rant will gar us loup like daffin youth at Yule!
Now o’er young luve’s impassioned strain our conscious heart will yearn,
And now our blude fires at the call o’Bruce o’Bannockburn.
5.
O born o’ feelings warmest depths—o’ fancyb wildest dreams,
They’re twined wi’ monie lovely thocht’s, wi’ monie lo’esome themes;
They gar the glass o’ memory glint back wi’ brichter shine
On far aff scenes, and far aflf frien’s, and ^uld Lang Syne’.’
190

AULD SCOTIA’S SANGS.

U LI) Scotia’s sangs, auld Scotia’s sangs, the strains o’ youth and yore

O lilt to me and I will list, will list them o’er and o’er!

Though mak’ me wae, or mak’ me wud, or changefu’ as a child,

Yet lilt to me, and I will list, the “ native wood-notes wild ! ”

They mak’ me present wi’ the past—they bring up fresh and fair,

The Bonnie Broom of Cowdenknowes,” “ The Bush abune Traquair,”

The “ Dowie Dens of Yarrow,” or “The Birks of Invermay,”

Or Catrine’s green and yellow woods in autumn’s dwining day.

They bring me back the holms and howes, whar siller burnies shine,

The “ Lea Rig” whar the gowans glint wre pu’d in “Auld Lang Syne,”

And mair than a’, the Trystin’ Thorn that blossomed down the vale,

Whaur gloamin’ breathed sae sweetly—but far sweeter, luve’s fond tale.

Now melt we o’er the lay that wails for Flodden’s day o’ dule,

And now some rant will gar us loup like daffin’ youth at Yule!

Now o’er young luve’s impassioned strain our conscious heart will yearn,

And now our blude fires at the call o’ Bruce o’ Bannockburn.

O, born o’ feeling’s warmest depths—o’ fancy’s wildest dreams,

They’re twined wi’ monie lovely thochts, wi’ monie lo’some themes ;

They gar the glass o’ memory glint back wi’ brichter shine

On far aff scenes, and far aff frien’s, and “ Auld Lang Syne.”
Ocb mar 'tha Mi.

Alas! for Me.*

192

#
A L AS FOR ME.

Arranged by Gaelic Words by John Campbell.

W. S. RODDIE. Translated by Pattison.

KEY. F. Slowly.
. (s^ : st . li I d: d.d:r.ml s: 1. (Si) : Si . I, I d :r . m : r d

li : li . Si : Si . 1] I d : d . d : r . m I s : 1 . 1 : d1 ., 1 I s : m . s : m., r I d : d.

Begin with the Chorus.

 193
CHORUS.
: s, . l! I d s : 1 . (Sl): s, . 1, m : r d

# ■" 1
Oeh mar tha mi, ’smi na irr ao _ nar ^'Struagh a dhThag; ihu mi’mdei^h do
Och mar tha mi, here so live _ ly,-Despair has seiz'd me and keeps his

i
f

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chomhraidh;Mo chreac-h’s mo dhibheil nach robh min I_ le "smo ebminnea^’dliileas a’ dol a phosadh.
hold Oh were 1 near thee in Is_lay, on-ly, Be_i ore thou’st taken that man for ^)-old.

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’N uair bhios each ’n an cadal suaimhneaeh,
Bidh inise smuainteachadh ort an oomlinuidli.
Mar bhios an eala an dei^jh a bualadh;
’S e gaol na gruagaich a rinn mo leonadh,
Och mar tha mi, «fec.
3ri
Thu do shuilean mar na dearcan,
S tha do chneas mar chanach mointich,
Do dha ghruaidh eho dearg’s an caorann,
’S do mhala chaol mar it'an lon-duibh.
Och mar tha mi, <fec.
4th
Thug mi uigh dhuit, a’s chuir mi duil annad
Ged nach duirichdeadh tu mo phosadh-,
Thug thu ’n sliabh ort’s cha b’ fhiach leat m’ fhoighneachd;
’S e fear gun chaoimhneas a ni thu phosadh.
Och mar tha mi, dec.
2‘L^
When sleeping sweetly the rest are lying,
Wild dreams of anguish my mind is weaving;
I'm like the swan,that drops wounded-dying;
My love exhausts me with bitter grieving.
Och mar tha mi, dec.
3rd
Alas! thy kind eyes so brightly shining
Thy neck so comely like cannach blowing
Th ose ebon eyebrows thy forehead lining
Thy cheeks like berries or rowans glowing.
Och mar tha mi, tfec.
4th
Since thou hast left me, and without warning,
Alas! and taken a man for gold!
Had I been by thee, false wisdom scorning,
Thy self, my dear one,thou had’st not sold.
Och mar tha mi, &e.

CK MAH 'THA Ml.

194
OCH
J^JOCH’S a’ mhaduinnan am domh dusgadh
Shil mo shuilean a’s dh’fhas mi bronach,
Mu’n sgeul a chualas air feadh an t-saogh-ail,
Thu bhi ga d’ghlaodhaich, a ghaoil, Didomhnaich.
Och mar ’tha mi, ’smi na’m aonar
Struagh a dh’fhag thu mi’m deigh do chomhraidh;
Mo chreach’s mo dhibheil nach robh mi’n He
’Smo chruinneag dhileas a’ dol a phosadh.
’Nuair bhios each ’n an cadal suaimhneach,
Bidh raise smuainteachadh ort an comhnuidh,
Mar bhios an eala an deigh a bualadh ;
’S e gaol na gruagaich a rinn mo leonadh,
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
Thu do shuilean mar na dearcan,
’S tha do chneas mar chanach mointich,
Do dha ghruaidh cho dearg’s an caorann,
’S do mhala chaol mar it’ an lon-duibh.
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
Thug mi uigh dhuit, a’s churr mi duil annad
Ged nach duirichdeadh tu mo phosadh;
Thug thu ’n sliabh ort’s cha b’ fhiach lead m’ fhoigneachd;
’S e fear gun chaoimhneas a ni thu phosadh.
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
MAR ’THA MI
Alas ! for Me.
doleful morning, how sad thy waking
My eyes with tear-drops fast brimming over,
For old love leaving, and old vows breaking,
Thy banns are call’d with that other lover.
Och mar ’tha mi, here so lively;
Despair has seized me, and keeps his hold;
Oh, were I near thee in Islay, only,
Before thou’st taken that man for gold.
When sleeping sweetly the rest are lying,
Wild dreams of anguish my mind is weaving,
I’m like the swan, that drops wounded—dying;
My love exhausts me with bitter grieving.
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
Alas ! thy kind eyes so brightly shining,
Thy neck so comely, like cannach blowing,
Those ebon eyebrows thy forehead lining,
Thy cheeks like berries or rowans glowing.
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
Since thou hast left me, and without warning,
Alas ! and taken a man for gold !
Had I been by thee, false wisdom scorning,
Thyself, my dear one; thou had’st not sold.
Och mar ’tha mi, etc.
* Begin with the Chorus.
Song of Death.

Oran an Aoig.
 196

Song of Death.

ORAN AN AOIG.

Words by Arranged by
Burns. John Thomson.

Slow.

—*——» ar— r i*-

Faro _ well, thou fair day, thou green earth and ye skies, Now gay with the
Thou strik’st the dull pea _ sant, he sinks in the dark, Nor saves ev’n the

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198

SONG OF DEATH.

Oran an Aoig.

ARE WELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,

Now gay with the bright setting sun ;

Farewell, loves and friendships, ye tender, dear ties!

Our race of existence is run ;

Thou grim King of Terrors, thou life’s gloomy foe,

Go frighten the coward and slave!

Go teach them to tremble, fell tyrant, but know,

No terrors hast thou for the brave!

Thou strik’st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark,

Nor saves ev’n the wreck of a name ;

Thou strik’st the young hero, a glorious mark !

He falls in the blaze of his fame.

In the field of proud honour, our swords in our hands,

Our king and our country to save,

While victory shines on life’s last ebbing sands,

Oh, who would not die with the brave !

MacCrimmoris Lament.

CUMHA MhICCrUMEIN.
200

Mac Crimmon’s Lament.

CUMHA MHIC CRUMEIN.

English Words by Music Arranged by

John Stuart Blackie. W. S. Roddie.

FOICE.
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more, no more, no more for ev _ er, shall love, or gold, bring back Mac Crimmon.

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 201
SONG.
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Round Cool_ ins peak the mist is sail-ing-,The ban. shie croons her note ol waiLing1;

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Mild blue eyes, with sor_ row are streaming-,For him that shall nev_er re _ turn MacCrimmon.

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The breeze on the brae is mournfully blowing-!

The brook in the hollow is plaintively flowing-,
The warblers, the soul of the groves, are moaning-,
For MacCrimmon that’s g-one,with no hope of returning-,
3.
The tearful clouds the stars are veiling,
The sails are spread, but the boat is not sailing.
The waves of the sea, are moaning and mourning
For MacCrimmon that’s gone,to find no returning!
4.
No more on the hill at the festal meeting,
The pipe shall sound,with echo repeating,
And lads and lasses,change mirth to mourning;
For him that is gone,to know no returning!
5.
No more, no more, no more for ever,
In war or peace, shall return MacCrimmon:
No more, no more, no more for ever,
Shall love,or gold,bring back MacCrimmon.
 MacCRIMMON’S lament.

ClJMHA MhIcCrUMEIN.

N O more, no more for ever,

In war or peace shall return MacCrimmon ;
No more, no more, no more for ever,
Shall love, or gold, bring back MacCrimmon.

Round Coolins peak the mist is sailing,

The banshee croons her note of wailing;
Mild blue eyes with sorrow are streaming,
For him that shall never return, MacCrimmon.

The breeze on the brae is mournfully blowing,

The brook in the hollow is plaintively flowing,
The warblers, the soul of the groves, are moaning,
For MacCrimmon that’s gone, with no hope of returning,

The tearful clouds the stars are veiling,%

The sails are spread, but the boat is not sailing,
The waves of the sea are moaning and mourning
For MacCrimmon that’s gone, to find no returning.

No more on the hill, at the festal meeting,

The pipe shall sound, with echo repeating,
And lads and lasses change mirth to mourning,
For him that is gone, to know no returning.

No more, no more, no more for ever,

In war or peace, shall return MacCrimmon ;
No more, no more, no more for ever,
Shall love, or gold, bring back MacCrimmon.
 The I n^ernessCollection
OF
Highland T*ibrochs. Laments, Quicksteps, and CMarches.
Three Books, Paper Covers, Price 2s. 6d. nett each.

OOZTSTTIETTTS-
BOOK I. BOOK III.
Inverness Gathering Athole Gathering Lord Lovat’s Welcome Daft Donald
Quickstep Highland March Mackenzie’s farewell to Sutherland General Highland Gathering for the Barren Rocks of Aden
Gillie Callum Highland Laddie (pipe set) battle Siege of Sebastopol
Pibroch Pipe Air M‘Crimmon’s Lament Marchioness of Tullybardine’s
Pipe March A Highland Lament March of the North Fencibles March
Pibroch Athole Highlanders’ March The Clans Grand March I love a bonny lass
Hills of Glenorchy Johnnie Cope Aberdeenshire Regiment’s March The Campbells are commin’
Highland Brigade at Waterloo Culloden Moor Lament for the dead on the Battle- The Pibroch of Inverness
Pibroch of Donald Dhu Lament field Glengarry Pibroch
Hoop her and gird her Pibroch Lord Lovat’s Lament The Smith’s a gallant fireman
Killiecrankie Follow her over the border The 57th or Caledonian March The ypth’s farewell to Gibraltar
Glengarry’s March Skye Air The Highland Troop Delvin-side March
Mackintosh’s Lament The Glen’s mine Dr Norman Macleod’s Lament Cabar Feidh Pibroch
Macpherson’s Lament Lament of Flora Macdonald March of the Macdonalds
Seventh Edition, Price 2s. 6d. nett. Mary Macleod’s Cronan Cameronians’ farewell to Gibraltar
Mackinnon’s March Gillie a drover
BOOK II. Fourth Edition, Price 2s. 6d. nett.
She rose and let me in Mr Chas. Graham’s welcome home
Oran Gaoil (a love song) Robaid donna gorach BOOK IV.
Gaelic Air Dornoch Links
Gu ma slan a chi mi Princess Royal’s Birthday The Cock of the North Boyne Water
Stu mo luaidh na’m Faidhinn Thu Wha’ll be King but Charlie The Laird of Brodie Thro’ the Heather
Mo gradh fo Icon The last measure Prince Charlie The Gordon’s March Mhnathan a Glinne So (Women of
Bonnie Strathmore danced with Flora Macdonald Am Bodach (The Churl) the Glen)
Mrs Captain Munro’s Favourite War Call of the Clans Prince Charlie’s farewell to Scotland Cairngorum Mountain
Harriet Pibroch Callum siar glas Mary Dhu (Black Mary) Earl of Dalhousie’s March
Lord Breadalbane’s March John Anderson’s auldest daughter Crodh Chailean (Colin’s Cows) Very old Gaelic Air
Mrs Macdonald Marchioness of Tweeddale’s delight Mackenzie’s farewell Lament for Ruaridh Mor Macleod
A thousand blessings on the lovely Macrae’s March (a.d. 1491) Erchless Castle Gordon Castle
youth Sir Norman M‘Leod’s Lament Alone I am weary Kenmares’s March
Oran Mulad Macgregor of Rora’s Lament Lochnagar The Gordon’s hae the guidin’ o’t
Open the door, Lord Gregory My love has deceived me Crusader’s March Brave Scotland
March of 98th Highlanders Cadil gu lo (sleep on till day) Lament for the fallen at Waterloo
Fourth Edition, Price 2s. 6d. nett. Price 2s. 6d. nett

Highland Hirs and Quicksteps

ARRANGED for the PIANOFORTE
BY
J. F. MOR I SON.
In Two Books, Paper Covers, Price 2s. nett each.

BOOK I.
Mary, gentle and dark-eyed
Lad with the jet black hair
Monaltrie
May I see you happy
Beautiful Mary
No wonder young men
The Boatman
Wait for me
Duke of Athole’s March
I am weary
I’ll return to Kintail
Highlander’s farewell to Waterloo
M‘Crimmon’s Lament
Farewell to Dundee
Gillie Callum (Gow’s variations)
Fourth Edition,
C O ZCST T IE IST T S_
Turn round thy faithful head
I saw the brown stag on the hills
How sad am I
Lovely evening
The dark-haired youth
Mary Huistean’s plaid
Brown-haired Mary
Ho, ro, how pleasant
My lame leg has kept me behind
Miss Forbes’s farewell to Banff
Quickstep
Garry Hills
Miss Shaw’s Favourite
Highland Laddie
Price 2s. nett.
BOOK II
Faillirinn ’illirinn
War 01 Peace
My dear clever lad
Ossian alone
Ho lo ro hog eile
Agus ho Morag
I am so sorrowful
My pretty brown Girl
My fair and faithful one
Hymn of the foolish Man
My thoughtles Lad
My plaid is wet with rain
My little brown Girl
Ho, ro, an clo dubh
Song of the time of the ’45
Magnus
Dan Deirg
To-night sleep has forsaken me
Dear Foster Brother avoid the
Tower
Macgregor of Ruari
Campbell of Duntroon’s Welcome
Third Edition, Price 2s nett.
Mrs Mackinnon (Corry)
Turn back the Cows, Duncan
Brae of Mar
I shall wander alone
Lads in the Kilt
Marchioness of Tullibardine
Catherine Ogie
Fair young Mary
Malcolm of the Glen
Over by the Islands to America
The Woman with the Goats
Miss Graham of Inchbrakie
Bha’ mi’ ’n duil
Airidh nan leadan
Hill o rb
Duntulm Quickstep
Soldier’s return
Barren rocks of Aden
Joy be with my Love
A cho dhalta mo ruin
Banks of the Lomond

LOGAN & CO., Publishers, Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

 ‘ ‘ And the songs of the Gael on their pinions of fire,
How oft have they lifted my heart from the mire ;
On the lap of my mother I lisped them to God,
Let them float round my grave when I sleep ’neath the sod.''

The Inverness Collection

of

GAELIC SONGS.

With English Translations by

‘Professor Placl^ie^ 0\(ether Lochaber^ J\(orman {Macleod, Others.

ARRANGED with SYMPHONIES and ACCOMPANIMENTS for the PIANOFORTE.

Very Popular. Price Is. 6d. nett each. Over 10,000 Copies Sold.

Co^rs^rs.

I Love the Highlands (Is toigh leam a’ Ghaidealtachd).
Oh, Happy may I see Thee (Gu ma Sian a chi mi).
Farewell to Fiunary (Fionn Airidh).
The Praise of Islay (Moladh na Lanndaidh).
We will take the high way (Gabhaidh sinn na rathad mhor).
My Nut-brown Maiden (Ho ro mo Nighean donn bhoidheach).
The Boatman (Fear a’ Bhata).
My Faithful Fair One (Mo run geal dileas).
The Maiden of Mull (Maighdeann Mhuill).
Melodies in Sol-Fa and Old Notation.
Fair Young Mary (Mairi Bhan Og).
The Melody of Love (Ealaidh Ghaoil).
The Heather Isle (Eilean an Fraoich).
I’ll Sorrow no more for Thee (Cha bhi mi ga d’ chaoidh).
Lovely Mary (Mairi Laghach).
Alas ! for Me (Och mar tha mi).
The Highland Maid (An Ribhinn donn).
The Dark-Haired Youth (An Gille dubh ciar dubh).

Opinions of the Press.

“ In the Inverness Collection of Popular Gaelic Songs we have a considerable number of representative Highland Airs, with the words to which
they are traditionally wedded. Translations of these words, by no means wanting in grace and spirit, are supplied by Professor Blackie, Nigel Macneil,
and others, while the symphonies and accompaniments have been arranged by Mr W. S. Roddie, whose arrangements are entitled to the commendation
of being strictly faithful and exceedingly easy,” &c.— 7'Jte Scotsman.
“ A series of popular Gaelic Songs have been issued by Messrs. Logan & Co., of Inverness. The music is simple, natural, and quite Highland in
character.”—Inverness Courier.
“We are glad to be able to recommend the above compositions. The melodies are without exception of real beauty, and the translations
excellently done.”—Inverness Advertiser.
“The airs are very beautiful, and the pianoforte accompaniments are very appropriately in keeping with the character of the melodies.”—
Highlander.
“ We are very much pleased with this specimen of Messrs. Logan’s collection. The accompaniment is admirably simple, chaste, and subdued,
strictly subordinate to, yet always in perfect keeping with, the philosophy and motif of the original melody.”—ll Nether Lochaber" in the Inverness
Courier.
“The old Highland air, ‘ Is toigh leam a Ghaidealtachid,” or ‘ I Love the Highlands,’ is scored in all its native simplicity. The accompaniment
is appropriately simple.”—Scotsman.
“From the specimen before us we cannot doubt that these Inverness songs will become speedily and deseivedly popular.”—North British Daily
Mail.

LOGAN & CO., Publishers, Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

 FOURTH EDITION.

CAPT. S. FRASER’S

Collection of the ylirs and ^Melodies

OF THE

Highlands and the Isles.

ARRANGED FOR PIANO OR VIOLIN.
Four Books, Paper Covers, Price 2s. 6d. Nett. each.

OOUNTTZEUNTTS-
BOOK I. BOOK III.
The Langour of Love Maiden fond of mirth Strath Errick Each ailment but love
Sheuglie’s contest between Violin, Jacobite War Song Hard is my fate Moy Hall
Pipe, and Harp Farewell darling youth Highland Dress and Armour Lord Lovat’s Welcome
Highland Society of Scotland Hogmanay A Fingalian Air Sandy is my only love
St Kilda Wedding Battle of Kinloch Lochy Inverness Lasses The Hawthorn Tree of Cawdor
The Cow Boy * Traveller benighted in snow Lady of the Lake Will you remain wi’ me
The Orphan Loch Ruthven Wha’H be King but Charlie The Rover
The Feet Washing Glengarry’s Foxhunter My bonny brunnette Black-haired Nymph
Dunrobin Castle Banks of Loch Ness Dairyman’s Daughter Come along and keep your promise
Wedding Ring Chieftain’s Lament Culloden Day Stolen Breeks
Ewie wi’ the crooked Horn I’ll break your head for you Rotha’s Lament * Neil Cow’s style
The Weaver has a daughter The Goat Pen Wail for Neil Gow Macleod. of Macleod’s Chorus
Lord Reay Rob Doun Mackay Golden Locks What pain I’ve endured
The Forest where the deer resort Kilchattan Wedding A Rowing-time piece The native country of the sprightly
Ossianic Air Glengarry Cairngorm Mountains Dance
Annie is my darling Keppoch desolate The Nuptial Knot Thou has left me melancholy
Inverary Castle • The dram shell Belladrum House Deil tak’ the Breeks
I am asleep Highlands of Banffshire I care for nothinc' now Sitting in the stern of a boat
The merry making The Hereditary Hall of Macleod Kilachassy Highland Road to Inverness
Glen of Copsewood Short apron A Highland Bumkin My love to-day as heretofore
New Years’ Day Catch and kiss the romp Tyndrum My love is fixed upon her
What care I for the minister The Haggis The sportsman’s Haunt The High Road to Fort-AguStus
Braes of Lochiel Rowing from Isla to Uist Beauty, charming, fair, and young The Cottage adjoining the Fall
Price 2s. 6d. nett. The North Hunt The Rendezvous
My darling has deceived me Who will dandle my Mary
BOOK II. Lady Lovat The bonniest wife this side of Lord
Mary, young and fair John the Shepherd of Glengarry The Laird of Brodie Reay’s countrie
Well may my true love arrive Sleep on till Day
The Pipe slang Scolding Wives of Abertarff The ancient Barons of Kilravock The Beauty of the North
Urquhart Castle Shealing in the Braes of Rannoch A Hero never dies The Jolly Companions
Maid of Sutherland Massacre of Glencoe Willie’s auld trews The style of the last Century
Hymn to the Saviour Lord Lovat Beheaded Tired after my expedition Clanranald
My love in secret How can we abstain from Whisky Prince Charles Rob Roy Macgregor
In dispraise of Whisky My wife has scolded me The North side of the Grampians The Fall of Foyers
My favourite if I could get thee Macleod’s Daughter The Fraser Arms
The Bonfire Spot where my forefathers dwelt Price 2s. 6d. nett.
Laddie I esteem you Darling of the Uist Lasses
Lovat’s Restoration Yhe Hamlet where my lover dwells
Jet black haired youth The Spraith of the Lowlands BOOK IV.
The source of Spey Roderick Dhu John O’Groat’s House The recollection of that day
The Periwig My faithful brown-haired Maid Cease not to row, brave Boys Where are your gods
Balquhidder Dunmaglass The Dirge of Mull Prince Charles’ last news of Scot-
Ba, Ba, Baby Glenmoriston My Love is gone to Sea land
Highland Troop My lover wounded The Weaver’s Triumph Cheerful Mary
Cross of Inverness Duncan Macqueen A Lady to her Husband, killed at I can’t conceal that I prefer you
The Minstrel of the Macdonalds The Great Glen of Scotland Culloden Now your gane awa
How melancholy am I Ferintosh Pass round the Flagon Willie, will you e’er return
General Gathering, 1745 Death of my friend Marion, the Gaberlunzie’s Daughter The Marchioness Salute
Bedding of the Bride Barbara MTherson None left at Home The Isles of Aigas
Crossing to Ireland The Gloom on my Soul Merry Lads and bonnie Lasses Macpherson of Strathmashy
Waes me for Prince Charlie Merry may the pair be The Fire Cross Song Romance
Wedding Medley Corrimony Macdonald, Lord of the Isles Flora Macdonald’s Adieu to the
Poet’s Grave The Boatman The sound of War from the Glen Prince
Beaufort Castle The Sequestered Beauty The Fashon which the Lasses have Ancient Sports of the Glen
Cock of the North Well may Charlie wear the Crown Lord President Forbes The Darling
The King’s Health Place, true love, thine arm around The Shepherdess The Rising of the Year 1715
Dawted Mary me The Emigrant’s Adieu Bonnie Lassie take advice
Sweet May Morning Margaret Macdonald The love that has undone me Malcolm of the Glen
Lachlan with jet black hair My heart is broke Gorthleck’s Highland Plaid The Belted Plaid
The Chisholm Kinrara My recent gift
Marion Driving the Steers Price 2s. 6d. nett.
Goodwife admit the wanderer Jacobites in there hiding places
Kinettan’s daughter
Price 2s. 6d. nett. APPENDIX.
The FOUR Parts, bound complete in Cloth, Gilt lettered and Gilt edges. Price I2S. 6d.
EXTRA EDITION, bound in Silk Tartan, Gilt lettered and Gilt edges. Price 2IS. nett.
A most elegant and appropriate Souvenir of the Highlands.

LOGAN & CO., Publishers, Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

 Highland Dag Dreams.
SIX REVERIES, Arranged for the Pianoforte by E. G. BERT.
No. i. Cawdor. No. 2. Foyers. No. 3. Iona. No. 4. Dunrobin. No. 5. Lynn of Dee. No. 6. The Monastery.
Beautifully Illustrated with Photographs. Price 2s. nett each.

W. S. ROCKSTRO’S

Stags of the Gael.

Fantasy on the Gaelic Airs—Gu ma slan a chi mi (Oh, happy may I see thee); Gabhaidh sinn an rathad mor (We will take the high way).
Arranged for Pianoforte Solo. Price 2s. nett.

Stags of the Highlands.

Fantasy, introducing the Favourite Gaelic Airs—Ho ro mo nighean donn Bhoidheach (My Nut-Brown Maiden), and
Is toigh leam a’ Ghaidhealtachd (I Love the Highlands).
• Price 2s. nett. ,

^Scottish Chimes.
OVERTURE by W. S. ROD DIE. Price 2s. nett.
“ The overture is certain of becoming a favourite wth the majority of performers.”—Inverness Courier.

K assassin IPolka.
By CAPTAIN FORBES. Price 2S. nett.

Glen f£lbgn Stancers.

By JOHN THOMSON. Price 2s. nett.

twilight W a 11 z e s.
By CAPTAIN FORBES. Price 2s. nett.

Highland Quadrilles.
By JOHN THOMSON. Price 2s. nett.

SCALES, MAJOR AND MINOR, IN THIRDS, SIXTHS, AND TENTHS.

By C. A. E. SENIOR.
Price is. nett.

THE NORTHERN COLLECTION OF PART-SONGS.

Arranged by W. S. ROD DIE.
CONTENTS.
1. Come unto Me (Sacred) 5. Kenmure’s on and awa’ o | The Land o’ the Leal
2; Robin is my only Joe 6. Gloomy Winter’s noo awa’ | Tibbie Fowler
3- Wha’ll be King but Charlie ? 7. My Nannie O 9. Allister MacAllister
4- Lament of Flora Macdonald 10. I love the Highlands
These can be had in either Old Notation or Tonic Sol-Fa, Price One Penny each.
“ These songs are simply but effectively harmonised, and consequently are eminently suitable for classes, large or small.”—Inverness Courier.

LOGAN & CO., Publishers, Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

 SECOND EDITION.

Highland Schott i sc hes.

ARRANGED FOR THE PIANOFORTE.
Price Is. 6d. Nett.
CONTENTS.
The Highland Club Schottische Gabhaidh sinn an rathad Mor Schottische— Orange and Blue Schottische
Duchess of Manchester Schottische known as Kafoozleum Clachnacuddin Schottische
Louden’sBonnieWoods and Braes Schottische Cameron’s got his Wife again Schottische Cabar Feidh Schottische
Little Drummer Schottische Elgin Schottische Stumpie Schottische
Monymusk Schottische A Choisir, the Rendezvous Schottische Keel Row Schottische
Jenny’s Bawbee Schottische Cawdor Fair Schottische Marquis of Huntly’s Schottische
Standard on the Braes o’ Mar Schottische What’s a’ the steer Schottische The Smith’s a Gallant Fireman Schottische
THIRD EDITION.

The Inverness Collection

Strathspeys, Reels, and Country Dances.
Book I., Price Is. 3d. nett. 33 pages.
The Best Collection of Scottish Dance Music at the Price.
Reel of Tulloch
Stumpie Strathspey
Lady Mary Ramsay Strathspey
Lord Macdonald’s Reel
Loch Earn Reel
Duchess of Gordon Strathspey
The Haggis Reel
The Pipe Slang Reel
Tibby Fowler o’ the Glen Strathspey
The Highlandman Kissed his Mother Reel
Will you rin awa’ wi’ me Reel
Highlands of Banffshire Strathspey
Lord Montgomery Reel
Duchess of Sutherland Reel
Lady Doune Strathspey
Jenny Nettles Reel
Delvin House Reel
Monymusk Strathspey
Push about the Jorum Reel
Green Grows the Rashes Reel
Brown’s Reel
Wedding-Ring Reel
Merry Lads and Bonnie Lasses Reel
Book II., Price Is. 3d. nett. 36 pages.
Gillie Callum Strathspey
Mrs Macleod of Raasay Reel
Dunse Dihgs a’ Reel
Caledonian Hunt Strathspey
Back of the Change House Reel
Pease Strae Reel
Braes of Tullimet Strathspey
Earl Marischal Reel
Whigs of Fife Reel
Hilton Lodge Strathspey
Lady Grace Douglas Reel
Sir George Mackenzie’s Reel
Clachnacuddin Strathspey
Lady L. Ramsay Reel
Miss Maria Dundas Reel
The Glasgow Lasses Reel
The Spell Reel
The Bonnie Lass o’ Fisherrow Reel
Lovat’s Welcome Strathspey
The Auld Wife ayont the Fire Reel
Cutty Sark Reel
Miss Forbes’ Farewell to Banff Strathspey
The Wind that Shakes the Barley Reel
The High Road to Linton Reel
The Haughs of Cromdale Strathspey
OF
CONTENTS.
Miss Drummond of Perth Strathspey
The Darling of the Uist Lasses Reel
The Bedding of the Bride Reel
Urquhart Castle Strathspey
Pll kiss the Bonnie Lass, oh ! Reel
Deil among the Tailors Reel
The Fairy Dance Reel
Jenny’s Bawbee Reel
Tullochgorum Strathspey
Hie for the Highland Body Reel
Fight about the Fireside Reel
Kinethan’s Daughter Strathspey
Moy Hall Reel
Johnny Groat’s Reel
The Northside of the Grampians Strath-
spey
Inverness Lasses Reel
Clydeside Lasses Reel
Lady Lindsay Strathspey
Birks of Aberfeldy Reel
Athole House Reel
Rothesay Fair Strathspey
The Bob of Fettercairn Reel
THIRD EDITION.
CONTENTS.
The Fife Hunt Reel
The Drummer Reel
Bag on Lochan, or Athole Cummer’s Strath-
spey
The Haymaker’s Country Dance
Sir Roger de Coverley Country Dance
Quaker’s Wife Country Dance
Drops of Brandy Country Dance
Pop goes the Weasel Country Dance
Brose and Butter Country Dance
Irish Washerwoman Country Dance
Jack’s Alive Country Dance
My Love she’s but a Lassie yet Country Dance
Mason’s Apron Reel
Marquis of Huntly’s Farewell Strathspey
Speed the Plough Reel
The Fyket Reel
Cameron’s got his Wife again Strathspey
Captain Keiler Reel
Colonel Macbain’s Reel
Let us to the Aird Strathspey
Lord Airlie Reel
Dunkeld Bridge Reel
Miss Ross Strathspey
Lord James Murray’s Reel
The Duke of Perth’s Reel
Marquis of Huntly’s Highland Reel Strath
spey
Cawdor Fair Strathspey
Miss Campbell of Menzie Reel
Banks of Lochness Strathspey
Glenburhie Rant Reel
Jacky Latin Reel
Lovat’s Restoration Strathspey
The Fraser Arms Reel
The Scolding Wives of Abertarff Reel
Come along and keep your Promise Strath
spey
The Feet-Washing Reel
Brechin Castle Strathspey
I’ll gang na mair to yon Town Reel
Lady Harriet Hope Reel
College Hornpipe
Lord Montgomery Reel
Miss Dunbreck Reel
Mrs Garden of Troup Strathspey
The Bridge of Perth Reel
The Garmon Volange Country Dance
General Macdonald’s Reel
Hie over Hunt Strathspey
Miss Grant of Grant Reel
Lady Jardine Strathspey
Willie Duncan Strathspey
Rachael Rae Reel
Kate Dalrymple Reel
The Braes of Mar Strathspey
Prince Charles Reel
O’er Bogie wi’ my Love Reel
Highland Whisky Strathspey
There’s nae luck about the House Reel
John Cheap the Chapman Reel
The Miller of Drone Strathspey
Rafha Fair Reel
Petronella Country Dance
White Cockade Country Dance
Persian Dance
Haste to the Wedding Country Dance
Off she goes Country Dance
Flowers of Edinburgh Country Dance
Jenny put the Kettle on Country Dance
The Triumph Country Dance
Kinloch of Kinloch Country Dance
Fisher’s Hornpipe

LOGAN & CO., Publishers, Inverness, Aberdeen, and Elgin.

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