Album Summary: William Thomson's Orpheus Caledonius (1725) was a landmark publication; the first ever large-scale collection of "Scotch Songs" in print — 50 songs arranged with un-figured bass, most with lyrics from Allan Ramsay's Scots Songs and Tea-Table Miscellany, plus an appendix of melodic reductions. It was an instant hit and in 1733, expanded into 2 volumes with 100 songs. Indeed, Thomson's Orpheus set the standard format for Scots Song settings for the rest of the eighteenth century, including those of Robert Burns in The Scots Musical Museum. This ScotMus.com album is a faithful reprint of the song arrangements from the historic 1st edition of 1725.

(2)
My Daughter ye sall hae,
I'll g'you her be the Hand;
But I'll part wi' my Wife be my Fae,
Or I part wi' my Land.
Your Tocher it sall be good,
There's nane sall ha'e its maik,
The Lass bound in her Snood,
And Crummie wha kens her Stake:
With an auld Bedden o' Claiths,
Was left me be my Mither,
They're jet black o'er wi' Fleas,
Ye may cudle in them the gither, Jo.
(3)
Ye speak right well, Guidman,
But ye maun mend your Hand,
And think o' Modesty,
Gin ye'll na quat your Land:
We are but young ye ken,
And now we're gawn the gither,
A House is butt and benn,
And Crummie she'll want her Fother.
The Bairns are coming on,
And they'll cry O their Mither,
We ha'e nowther Pot nor Pan,
But four bare Legs the gither, Jo.
(4)
Your Tocher's be good enough,
For that ye need na fear,
Twa good Stilts to the Pleugh,
An ye your sell maun steer:
Ye sall ha'e twa good Pocks,
That anes were o' the Tweel,
The tane to had the Grots,
The ither to had the Meal.
With an auld Kist made o' wands,
And that sall be your Coffer,
W'Aiken woody Bands,
And that may had your Tocher, Jo.
(5)
Consider well, Guidman,
We ha'e but borrow'd Gear,
The Horse that I ride on,
Is Sandy Wilson's Mear:
The Sadle's nane o' my ain,
And thae's are but borrow'd Boots,
An whan that I gae hame
I maun take me to my Coots.
The Cloak is Geordy Watts,
That gars me look sae crouse;
Come fill us a Cog o' Swats,
We'll mak na mair toom Ruse, Jo.
(6)
I like ye well young Lad,
For telling me sae plain,
I married when little I had,
O' Gear that was my ain.
But sin that Things are sae,
The Bride she maun come furth,
Tho' a the Gear she'll ha'e,
It'll be but little worth.
A Bargain it maun be,
Fy cry on Giles the Mither:
Content am I, quoth she,
E'en gar the Hissie come hither.
The Bride she gade till her Bed,
The Bridegroom he came till her,
The Fidler crap in at the Fit,
And they cudl'd it a the gither, Jo.