" It was
composed
by Burns on the battle of
Killiecrankie, and sent in his own handwriting to Johnson; he puts it
in the mouth of a Whig.
Killiecrankie, and sent in his own handwriting to Johnson; he puts it
in the mouth of a Whig.
Robert Forst
]
I.
O, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan came to see:
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night
Ye wad na find in Christendie.
We are na fou, we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
II.
Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!
III.
It is the moon--I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!
IV.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa',
A cuckold, coward loon is he!
Wha last beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three!
We are na fou, we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
* * * * *
XC.
WHARE HAE YE BEEN.
Tune--_"Killiecrankie. _"
["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Museum without
Burns's name.
" It was composed by Burns on the battle of
Killiecrankie, and sent in his own handwriting to Johnson; he puts it
in the mouth of a Whig. ]
I.
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
O, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
An' ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been so cantie, O;
An' ye had seen what I hae seen,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
II.
I fought at land, I fought at sea;
At hame I fought my auntie, O;
But I met the Devil an' Dundee,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,
An' Clavers got a clankie, O;
Or I had fed on Athole gled,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
* * * * *
XCI.
I GAED A WAEFU' GATE YESTREEN.
Air--"_The blue-eyed lass. "_
[This blue-eyed lass was Jean Jeffry, daughter to the minister of
Lochmaben: she was then a rosy girl of seventeen, with winning manners
and laughing blue eyes. She is now Mrs. Renwick, and lives in New
York.
I.
O, Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan came to see:
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night
Ye wad na find in Christendie.
We are na fou, we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
II.
Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!
III.
It is the moon--I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!
IV.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa',
A cuckold, coward loon is he!
Wha last beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three!
We are na fou, we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
* * * * *
XC.
WHARE HAE YE BEEN.
Tune--_"Killiecrankie. _"
["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Museum without
Burns's name.
" It was composed by Burns on the battle of
Killiecrankie, and sent in his own handwriting to Johnson; he puts it
in the mouth of a Whig. ]
I.
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
O, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
An' ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been so cantie, O;
An' ye had seen what I hae seen,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
II.
I fought at land, I fought at sea;
At hame I fought my auntie, O;
But I met the Devil an' Dundee,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,
An' Clavers got a clankie, O;
Or I had fed on Athole gled,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
* * * * *
XCI.
I GAED A WAEFU' GATE YESTREEN.
Air--"_The blue-eyed lass. "_
[This blue-eyed lass was Jean Jeffry, daughter to the minister of
Lochmaben: she was then a rosy girl of seventeen, with winning manners
and laughing blue eyes. She is now Mrs. Renwick, and lives in New
York.
