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Updated: June 13, 2025
Nothing loath to humor his strange, sympathetic little guests, he began the second time to grind out the wheezy notes of the beautiful, time-honored song, and Peace's red lips took up the accompaniment, while Allee's sweet, childish voice warbled the words: "Maxwellton braes are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gied me her promise true Gied me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doon and dee."
The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear; The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band of love, And I'll place it on her breast, and I'll swear by a' above. That to the latest breath o' life the band shall ne'er remove.
'I think, continued she, 'they that hae taen interest in the house of Ellangowan suld sleep nane this night; three men hae been seeking ye, and you are gaun hame to sleep in your bed. D' ye think if the lad-bairn fa's, the sister will do weel? Na, na! 'I don't understand you, good woman, said Hazlewood.
In the common version this stanza reads: "Maxwelton's braes are bonnie Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gie'd me her promise true; Gie'd me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be, An' for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down an' dee."
I'm fearfu, fearfu to be particular; for, though he was aye kind-hearted to me, he was easily wised, and I doubt, I doubt he'll prove a blasting or a blessing, according to the hands he fa's among." "I hope and pray," said my grandfather, "that he'll be protected from scaith, and live to be a comfort to all his friends."
The Scotch dragoon, Mackenzie, seeing me look long and intently at the distant Falls of Montmorency, drily observed, "It may be a' vera fine; but it looks na' better to my thinken than hanks o' white woo' hung out o're the bushes." "Weel," cried another, "thae fa's are just bonnie; 'tis a braw land, nae doubt; but no' just so braw as auld Scotland."
Awa' he sets, and he fa's in wi' a flesher. "Weel," says the flesher, "if ye'll be my servant a' day, I'll gie ye a leg o' mutton at night." "I'll be that," quo' Jock. He got a leg o' mutton at night. He ties a string to it, and trails it behind him the hale road hame. "What hae ye been doing?" said his mither. He tells her. "Hout, you fool, ye should hae carried it on your shouther."
"And fa's to pay my new ponnie plaid," said the larger Highlander, "wi' a hole burnt in't ane might put a kail-pat through? Saw ever onybody a decent gentleman fight wi' a firebrand before?"
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