The Merry Muses of Caledonia by Robert Burns COMPLIMENTS OF WIKISOURCE ANNA. Tune—The dearest o the Quorum. The heroine of this song was Ann Park, a niece of Mrs. Hyslop, of the Globe Tavern, Dumfries, and mother of Burnss illegitimate daughter Elizabeth, who was brought up by Jean Armour as one of her own children. She was born March 31st, 1791; was married to John Thomson, Pollokshaws, to whom she bore a large family; and died at Crossmyloof, June, 1873, aged 82. The Globe Tavern was where Burns lodged when his Excise duties precluded his return to Ellisland, and it remained to the end of his days his favourite howff in Dumfries. What became of Anna is not certainly known. Burns had an extravagant notion of the merits of this song. He copied the first two double stanzas into the Glenriddell MS. collection, and the third stanza appears on another page of the same book. The postscript was added for the benefit of the Crochallan Fencibles. He sent a colder-toned version to Thomson, who did not consider it suitable for his Collection. In the accompanying letter Burns writes—The Banks of Banna is to me a heavenly air—what would you think of a set of Scots verses to it? I made one a good while ago, which I think is the best love song I ever composed in my life; but in its original state it is not quite a ladys song. This song is printed in Scott Douglass Edinburgh edition exactly as it appears here (Vol. II., p. 292). A MS. of this song, in Burnss hand, was sold at the Hoe sale, New York, in May, 1911. Yestreen I had a pint o wine, A place where body saw na, Yestreen lay on this breast o mine, The gowden locks o Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness, Rejoicing oer his manna, Was naething to my hiney bliss. Upon the lips of Anna. Ye Monarchs, take the East and West, Frae Indus to Savannah; Gie me within my straining grasp, The melting form o Anna. Then Ill despise imperial charms, An Empress or Sultana, While dying raptures in her arms I give and take wi Anna. Awa, thou flaunting God o Day, Awa, thou pale Diana, Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray When Im to meet my Anna. Come in thy raven plumage, Night, Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a. And bring an angel pen to write My raptures wi my Anna. POSTSCRIPT BY ANOTHER HAND. The Kirk and State may join and tell To do sic things I maunna, The Kirk and State may gae to h—l, And Ill gae to my Anna. She is the sunshine o my ee, To love but her I canna; Had I on earth but wishes three, The first should be my Anna. ERROCK BRAE. Tune—Sir Alex. Dons Strathspey. This is an old song current among the peasantry of that day. O Errock stane, may never maid A maiden by thee gae, Nor eer a stan o stanin graith, Gae stannin oer the brae. For tillin Errock brae, young man, And tillin Errock brae, An open fur, and stanin graith, Maun till the Errock brae. As I sat by the Errock stane, Surveying far and near. Up came a Cameronian, Wi a his preaching gear. For tillin, etc. He flang the Bible oer the brae, Amang the rashy gerse, But the Solemn League and Covenant, He laid below my a—e. For tillin, etc. But on the edge of Errock brae, He gae me sic a sten. That oer, and oer, and oer we rowd, Till we cam to the glen. For tillin, etc. Yet still his p—t—e held the grip, And still his b—l—ks hang, That a Synod couldna tell the a—e, To wham they did belang. For tillin, etc. A Prelate he loups on before, A Catholic behin, But gie me a Cameronian, He f——s a body blin. For tillin. etc. OUR GUDEWIFES SAE MODEST. Tune—John Anderson, my jo. This is an old fragment. Our gudewifes sae modest. When she is set at meat, A laverocks leg, or a tittlings wing, Is mair than she can eat; But, when shes in her bed at een, Between me and the wa; She is a glutton deevil. She swallows c—ds and a. WAD YE DO THAT? Tune—John Anderson, my jo. An old song before Burns s time. Gudewife, when your gudemans frae hame, Might I but be sae bauld, As come into your bed-chamber, When winter nights are cauld? As come into your bed-chamber, When nights are cauld and wat, And lie down in your gudemans stead, Gudewife, wad ye do that? Young man, if ye should be so kind, When my gudemans frae hame, As come into my bed-chamber. Where I am laid my lane. And lie down in my gudemans stead, Young man, Ill tell you what, He f——s me five times ilka night. Young man, wad ye do that?
Posted on: Thu, 09 Oct 2014 18:39:44 +0000
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