_Baurie forest_, the chief city.

_Baurie paunie_, the sea, ocean, grand water.

_Bing_, the devil.

_Ruffie_, the devil.

_f.e.c.k_, take.

_Chauvies wautheriz_, the children's bed-clothes.

_Sherro_, head.

_Carlie_, neck.

_Lears_, ears.

_Chatters_, teeth.

_Yak_, eye.

_Nak_, nose.

_Mooie_, mouth.

_Vast_, hand.

_Jaur_, leg.

_Nek_, knee.

_Peerie_, foot.

_Bar_, stone.

_Drom_, the earth.

_Cang-geerie_, church.

_Sonnakie_, gold.

_Sonnakie vanister_, gold ring.

_Callo_, black.

_Callo gaugie_, black man.

_Leehgh callo_, blue.

_Sneepa_, white, snow.

_Sheelra_, cold, frost.

_Lon_, salt.

_Lon paunie_, the sea, salt water.

_Rat_, night.

_Rat_, blood.

_Habben kairer_, baker of bread.

_Aizel_, a.s.s.

_Gournie_, cow.

_Jucal_, dog.

_Paupeenie_, goose.

_Caunie_, hen.

_Boord_, penny.

_Curdie_, half-penny.

_Lee_, miss.

_Ruffie f.e.c.k ma_, devil take me.

_Ruffie lee ma_, devil miss me.

_f.e.c.k a bar and mar the gaugie_, lift a stone and fell the man.

_Chee, chee_, silence, hold your tongue.

_Auvie_, come here.

_Jaw vree_, go away.

_Jaw wree wautheriz_, go away to your bed.

_Baish doun_, sit down.

_Baish doun bettiment_, sit down on the chair.

_Howie been baishen?_ how are you?

_Riah_, gentleman.

_Raunie_, gentlewoman.

_Baurie riah_, king.

_Baurie raunie_, queen.

_Praw_, son.

_Prawl_, daughter.

_Yaggers_, colliers.

_Nawken_, Tinkler, Gipsy.

_Cam_, the moon.

_Quad_, prison.

_Staurdie_, prison.

_Yaik_, one.

_Duie_, two.

_Trin_, three.

_Tor_, four.

_Fo_, five.

_Shaigh_, six.

_Naivairn_, seven.

_Naigh_, eight.

_Line_, nine.

_Nay_, ten.

This young man sang part of two Gipsy songs to me, in English; and then, at my request, he turned one of them into the Gipsy language, intermingled a little, however, with English words; occasioned, perhaps, by the difficulty in translating it. The subject of one of the songs was that of celebrating a robbery, committed upon a Lord Shandos; and the subject of the other was a description of a Gipsy battle. The courage with which the females stood the rattle of the cudgels upon their heads was much lauded in the song. Like the Gipsy woman with whom I had no less than seven years' trouble ere getting any of her speech, this Gipsy lad became, in about an hour's time, very restless, and impatient to be gone. The true state of things, in this instance, dawned upon his mind.

He now became much alarmed, and would neither allow me to write down his songs, nor stop to give me any more of his words and sentences. His terror was only exceeded by his mortification; and, on parting with me, he said that, had he, at first, been aware I was unacquainted with his speech, he would not have given me a word of it.

As far as I can judge, from the few and short specimens which I have myself heard, and had reported to me, the subjects of the songs of the Scottish Gipsies, (I mean those composed by themselves,) are chiefly their plunderings, their robberies, and their sufferings. The numerous and deadly conflicts which they had among themselves, also, afforded them themes for the exercise of their muse. My father, in his youth, often heard them singing songs, wholly in their own language. They appear to have been very fond of our ancient Border marauding songs, which celebrate the daring exploits of the lawless freebooters on the frontiers of Scotland and England. They were constantly singing these compositions among themselves. The song composed on Hughie Graeme, the horse-stealer, published in the second volume of Sir Walter Scott's Border Minstrelsy, was a great favourite with the Tinklers. As this song is completely to the taste of a Gipsy, I will insert it in this place, as affording a good specimen of that description of song in the singing of which they take great delight. It will also serve to show the peculiar cast of mind of the Gipsies.

HUGHIE THE GRaeME.

GUDE Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane, He has ridden o'er moss and muir; And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme, For stealing o' the Bishop's mare.

"Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!

Here hangs a broadsword by my side; And if that thou canst conquer me, The matter it may soon be tryed."

"I ne'er was afraid of a traitor-thief; Although thy name be Hughie the Graeme, I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds, If G.o.d but grant me life and time."

"Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope, And deal your blows as hard as you can!

It shall be tried, within an hour, Which of us two is the better man."

But as they were dealing their blows so free, And both so b.l.o.o.d.y at the time, Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall, All for to take brave Hughie the Graeme.

Then they hae grippit Hughie the Graeme, And brought him up through Carlisle town; The la.s.ses and lads stood on the walls, Crying, "Hughie the Graeme, thou'se ne'er gae down."

Then hae they chosen a jury of men, The best that were in Carlisle town; And twelve of them cried out at once, "Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae down."

Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume, As he sat by the judge's knee,-- "Twenty white owsen, my gude lord, If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me."

"O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume!

For sooth and sae it manna be; For, were there but three Graemes of the name, They suld be hanged a' for me."