The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

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The Salamanca Corpus: The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) And where wi’ mony a blushing bud I strove mysell to hide. I’ll doat on ilka spot “Where I hae been wi’ thee; And ca’ to mind some kindly word By ilka burn and tree! Wi’ sic thoughts i’ my mind, Time through the world may gae, And find my heart in twenty years The same as ‘tis to-day. ’Tis thoughts that bind the soul, And keep friends i’ the ee; And gin I think I see thee aye, What can part thee and me! l 1 This song seems to have been a favourite with the author, for I have met with it in various forms among her papers; and the labour bestowed upon it has been well repaid by the popu- [191] . I’VE GOTTEN A ROCK, I’VE GOTTEN A REEL. AIR—The White Cockade. I’VE gotten a rock, I’ve gotten a reel, I’ve gotten a wee bit spinning-wheel; An’ by the whirling rim I’ve found How the weary, weary warl goes round. ’Tis roun’ an’ roun the spokes they go, Now ane is up, an ane is low; ’Tis by ups and downs in Fortune’s wheel, That mony ane gets a rock to reel. I’ve seen a lassie barefoot gae, Look dash’d an’ blate, wi’ nought to say; But as the wheel turn d round again, She chirp’d an talk’d, nor seem’d the same:
The Salamanca Corpus: The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) larity it has all along enjoyed. The edition given, the best that has yet been in types, is printed from a copy of several of her poems and songs, fairly and carefully written out, a pparently either for publication or for the perusal of a friend, all of which appear to have got her final corrections. See the air in Neil Gow’s First Collection of Reels, &c. 3d.edit.p.8. It forms the 541st song in “The Scots Musical Museum,” vol. vi., first published in June 1803. The original title of the air seems to have been “My Dearie, an’ thou dee.” It is the second song to the music, the first being Gall’s beautiful “O, Mary, turn awa.” “Both of these songs,” says Mr Stenhouse, “are excellent.” [192] Sae fine she goes, sae far aglee, That folks she kenn’d she canna see; An’ fleeching chiels around her thrang, Till she miskens her a’ day lang. There’s Jock, when the bit lass was poor, Ne’er trudg’d o’er the lang mossy moor, Though now to the knees he wades, I trow, Through winter’s weet an’ winter’s snow: An’ Pate declar’d the ither mom, She was like a lily amang the corn; Though anee he swore her dazzling een Were bits o’ glass that black’d had been. Now, lassies, I hae found it out, What men make a’ this phrase about; For when they praise your blinking ee, ’Tis certain that your gowd they see: An when they talk o’ roses bland, They think o’ the roses o’ your land; But should dame Fortune turn her wheel, They’d aff in a dance of a threesome reel. [193] . WHEN HOME WE RETURN. AIR—O say, bonny Lass, will you lie in a barrack?
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