LL-L "Literature" 2009.09.12 (03) [EN]

Sat Sep 12 20:39:14 UTC 2009

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L O W L A N D S - L - 12 September 2009 - Volume 03
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From: Sandy Fleming <sandy at fleimin.demon.co.uk>
Subject: LL-L "Literature" 2009.09.10 (02) [EN]

> From: Allison Weiss <poplarlanearts at gmail.com>
> Subject: Robert Burns Lullaby ? [EN]
>
> On July 30th, 1904, Berceuse (Lullaby), a song for voice and piano by
>
> Argentine composer JuliÃ¡n Aguirre, was published in the magazine Bibelot.
>
> The French text is as follows:
>
> Dors bel ange en qui jâ€™espÃ¨re
>
>
> Douce image de ton pÃ¨re
>
> comme en un divin miroir;
>
> Il me semble encor le voir

Hi Allison!

I didn't miss this, but I've been trying in vain to find a source.

As far as I know, Burns didn't write any lullabies.

It's hard to think of any traditional lullabies in Scots at all: I
suspect the tradition was simply to sing children to sleep with any
soothing tune, such as "Ca the Yowes". Or maybe they're around and I
have blind spot for that sort of thing!

I guess lullabies in Scots may have started with Victorian romanticism,
and a search for keywords such as "sleep my bonny (bonnie) bairn
(bairnie)" might bring some up. I suspect these poetic creations were
never actually sung, however. Of course such sweeping statements are apt
to be brought down by a single counterexample!

A search for "hishie ba" (hishie/hushie/ba/baa/baw), Scots for
"Hush-a-Bye", might bring something more traditional up.

You do have to be careful with these accreditations, since there's a
line of illogic frequently used which goes like this:

1. It's set to music, so it must be Irish.

2. Irish is the same as Scots, right?

3. If it's Scots it must be Burns.

Sandy Fleming
http://scotstext.org/

----------

From: R. F. Hahn <sassisch at yahoo.com>
Subject: Literature

Interesting, Sandy.

I'm also wondering about the Scottish lullaby known mostly by the title
"Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament", sometimes by one of the lines: "Baloo, My Boy".
There are two or three tunes for this.  I based my "Song of the Lowlands" on
the one by Joseph Corfe (1741â€“1820):
http://lowlands-l.net/gallery/hahn_lowlands-song.php

In the meantime I have found an earlier version of the words. Please see the
second version below. I wonder how to label the language variety. It seems
to be 17th century English but also has a lot of Scots in it. "17th century
Scottish English"? Or is it "cleaned up" Scots?

Regards,
Reinhard/Ron
Seattle, USA

Most commonly known, clearly English:

*Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament*

Baloo, my babe, lie still and sleep;
It grieves me sore to see thee weep.
When thou art merry, I am glad;
Thy weeping makes my heart full sad.
Baloo, my boy, thy mother's joy,
Thy father breeds thee much annoy.
  Baloo, my babe, Baloo, my boy, thy mother's joy,
  Baloo, my babe, lie still and sleep.

Baloo, my babe, lie still awhile,
And when thou wakest, sweetly smile,
But do not smile as father did
To cozen maidens, God forbid.
But now I fear that thou will leer,
Thy father's flattering heart to bear.
  Baloo, my babe . . .

When he began to court my love,
With sugared words he did me move,
His feigning face and flattering tears
That unto me in time appears.
But now I see that cruelty
Cares neither for my babe nor me.
  Baloo, my babe . . .

Now by my griefs I vow and swear
Thee and all others to forbear.
I'll neither kiss nor cull nor clap,
But lull my youngling in my lap.
Be still, my heart; leave off to moan
And sleep securely all alone.
  Baloo, my babe . . .

The lesser known version, with clearly Scots elements highlighted, also
indicates Scots pronunciation in some rhymes; e.g. saft will ly <> cruelty,
youth <> mouth:

*Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!*

Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe;
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
   Balow, my boy, thy mither's joy!
   Thy father breides me great annoy.
   Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
   It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

When he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred words to muve,
His faynings fals and flattering cheire
To me that time did not appeire:
But now I see, most cruell hee,
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.
   Balow,  . . .

Ly stil, my darlinge, sleipe awhile,
And when thou wakest sweitly smile:
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids; nay, God forbid!
But yette I feire, thou wilt gae neire,
Thy fatheris hart and face to beire.
   Balow,  . . .

I cannae chuse, but ever will
Be luving to thy father stil:
Whaireir he gae, whaireir he ryde,
My luve with him maun stil abyde:
In weil or wae, whaireir he gae,
Mine hart can neir depart him frae.
   Balow,  . . .

But doe not, doe not, prettie mine,
To faynings fals thine hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change hir for a new;
If gude or faire, of hir have care,
For womens banning's wonderous sair.
   Balow,  . . .

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I 'll together live,
He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve;
My babe and I right saft will ly,
And quite forgeit man's cruelty.
   Balow,  . . .

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth
That ever kist a woman's mouth!
I wish all maids be warned by mee,
Nevir to trust man's curtesy;
For if we doe but chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how.
   Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
   It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

•

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