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From: Select Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern, Volume 2 by Robert Hartley Cromek 1810 [Verses 2-6 are Child A]
The following original Letter of Burns affords an additional proof of the interest which the Poet took in the ancient Minstrelsy of the West of Scotland.— Many compositions of this description he rescued from oblivion, and sent them to the Scots Musical Museum, and it appears to have been his design to recover all which were worthy of preservation. Several of them underwent his correction and emendation, as the subjoined unpublished extract from one of his letters will testify.—" The songs marked Z in the Museum, I have given to the world as old verses to their respective tunes; but, in fact, of a good many of them little more than the chorus is ancient, though there is no reason for telling every body this piece of intelligence."
To William Tytler, Esq. of Woodhouselee.
Sir,
Inclosed I have sent you a sample of the old pieces that are still to be found among our peasantry in the West.—I had once a great many of these fragments, and some of these here entire ; but as I had no idea then that any body cared for them, I have forgotten them. I invariably hold it sacrilege to add any thing of my own to help out with the shattered wrecks of these venerable old compositions ; but they have many various readings. If you have not seen these before, I know they will flatter your true old-style Caledonian feelings ; at any rate, I am truly happy to have an opportunity of assuring you how sincerely I am,
Revered Sir, Your gratefully indebted humble servant, Robert Burns.
Lawn Market, Aug. 1790.
FRAGMENTS
Tune—Willie's Rare.
Nae birdies sang the mirky hour
Amang the braes o'Yarrow,
But slumber'd on the dewy boughs
To wait the waukeping morrow.
Where shall I gang, my ain true love,
Where shall I gang to hide me;
For weel ye ken, i' yere father's bow'r,
It wad be death to find me.
O go you to yon tavern house,
An' there count owre your lawin,*
An' if I be a woman true,
I'll meet you in the dawin'.
O he's gone to yon tavern house,
An' ay he counted his lawin,
An' ay he drank to her guid health,
Was to meet him in the dawin'.
O he's gone to yon tavern house,
An' counted owre his lawin,
When in there cam' three armed men,
To meet him in the dawin'.
O, woe be unto woman's wit,
It has beguiled many!
She promised to come hersel'
But she sent three men to slay me!
Get up, get up, now sister Ann,
I fear we've wrought you sorrow;
Get up, ye'll find your true love slain,
Among the banks of Yarrow.
She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him braid and narrow,
Till in the clintin of a craig
She found him drown'd in Yarrow.
She's ta'en three links of her yellow hair,
That hung down lang and yellow,
And she's tied it about sweet Willie's waist,
An' drawn him out of Yarrow.
I made my love a suit of clothes,
I clad him all in tartan,
But ere the morning sun arose
He was a' bluid to the gartau.
Cetera desunt.
Footnote:
* Lawin—reckoning.