]sabel Pagan (c. 1741-1821)

Born in the parish of New Cumnock, Ayrshire, Scotland, around 1741, Isabel (or "Tibbie") Pagan was an alehouse keeper who had been abandoned by her well-connected family in early life and began earning her own living at the age of fourteen. She had almost no formal education; as she put it, "My learning it can soon be told, /Ten weeks when I was seven years old." An old religious woman taught her to read from the Bible, and young Tibbie subsequently devoted all the time she could spare to reading. Vivacious, with an excellent singing voice, Pagan suffered from infancy from a physical dis­ability that impaired her walking. She had a child by a man named Campbell, who deserted her on the eve of their marriage. For most of her life she lived near Muirkirk, Scotland, first in a cottage on the property of Muirsmill, then for more than thirty years in what had once been a warehouse for a tar works on the banks of Garpal Water within short walking distance of the village, given to her rent free by Admiral Keith Steward.

A spirited woman who lived alone, Pagan was unapologetically promiscu­ous, habitually drunk, and irreverent toward religion, though, unlike many believers, she could recite much of the Bible by heart. She entertained her alehouse guests with improvised dramatic monologues and amusing songs, some old but many her own compositions. According to James Paterson's 1840 account,

Night after night the vaulted roof of (Pagan's] humble dwelling rung with the voice of licentious mirth, and the revelries of bacchanalian worshippers, among whom she was the administering priestess. Famed for her sarcastic wit, as well as for her vocal powers, her cottage may be truly said to have been the favorite howjf of all the drunken wags and "drouthy neebors" in the dis­trict . She had no license for the retail of spirits, but usually kept a bottle for the supply of her customers; and by this means she contrived to eke out a subsistence which must otherwise have been sustained from charity.1

I. [James Paterson], The Contemporaries ef Bums, and the More Recent Poets of Ayrshire, with Selections from their Writings (Edinburgh, I840), II6.

539

Isabel Pagan

Pagan's alehouse was especially crowded and noisy in August, when aristo­crats came to the Muirkirk moors for grouse shooting. According to Paterson, "Many of the sportsmen not only frequented her cottage, but occasionally sent for her to Muirkirk, where, in return for her songs, her wit, and wicked sarcasm, she was of course well plied with liquor and rewarded with money. From such visits it was no uncommon thing for Isobel to return to her lonely habitation at midnight, or beyond it, deeply intoxicated, and by a path not the most easy of access." When a local minister hazarded a visit to the "wicket Tibbie Pagan," he noticed that "she had her Bible at her elbow. She told us of a satire that had been written on her, which stated that she was a strum­pet when only twelve years of age, and that she would go to hell. 'Oh!' quo Tibbie, 'was not that great nonsense?' She sang a song to us, which she had composed by way of retaliation." 2

Clergy themselves did not escape Pagan's penchant for critique. One Sab­bath she passed a minister preaching in the open air and overheard him earnestly trying to clear up "some knotty 'point o' faith.'" Leaning upon her crutch and "casting a sarcastic look" at him, she "exclaimed in a truly satiric tone- 'Ye're borin' awa' I see!' "3 Although her behavior violated community norms, few were willing to risk offending her; those who did were made the object of her ridicule. For example, of a farmer who spoke harshly of her she sang:

Mr --- in the Kyle, Ca'd me a common __ ;

But if he had not tried himsel', He wadna been sae sure! 4

In 1803, in her early sixties, Pagan published in Glasgow A Collection ef Songs and Poems on Several Occasions, printed by Niven, Napier, and Khull of Trongate, containing forty-six favorite songs in her repertoire, such as James Boswell's "The Laird o' Glenlee," and many original works. Unable to write herself, she dictated the volume to her amanuensis, said to be William Gem­mell, a tailor. Printed on extremely thin paper and containing only seventy­six pages in all, the volume was just the right size to fit in a hunter's pocket. There are love songs, both tender and passionate, but other songs are teasing, sometimes bawdy, filled with "in" jokes and the ambiance and good humor of a rural Scottish alehouse; often she makes herself the butt of her sarcasm or humor. In "A Hunting Song" she mentions regulars by name, describing

2. Ibid., rr6-17.

3. Ibid., I2I.

4 . Quoted in ibid., 122.

Isabel Pagan 541

their exploits comically though never disrespectfully. But her themes also deal with the problems of a person living on society's margin-the high cost of milk, the difficulty of selling inferior herring, merchants who cheat working-class customers. Some poems, such as "Muirkirk Light Weights," speak out against injustice. "The Spinning Wheel" condemns British gov­ernmental policy. Some are filled with gleeful jibes at conventional morality. Others, such as "A New Song on the Times," are devoted entirely to praise of her patrons, suggesting the delicate balancing act between insubordination and subordination that marks her work. (One of her patrons appears to have treated her to a long trip outside of Scotland.)

Although she apologizes repeatedly for her lack of education, she seems quite aware of the literary tradition of Burns and Ramsay, which legitimizes her own poetic voice. Some of her lyrics would have been considered ob­scene by the standards of the middle-class drawing room. For example, in the song "The Duke of Gordon's Fencibles" she writes:

There's one call'd F--r I have seen, A verse from me he may expect, One night at Cumnock fell late, A lass convoy'd me near Affleck.

And F--r she did take with her, To crack to her as she gaed hame, And as his kilt was short before, Think ye he wad na __ her wame.

Paterson claimed that in both subject matter and language many of her best and wittiest sayings were too coarse for him to reprint; her amanuensis is said to have sanitized many of her lyrics for publication.

Not included in her book are the well-known song attributed to her called "The Crook and Plaid" and her most famous song, "Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes." 5 (Usually omitted in nineteenth-century sources because of its "in­delicacy" is the fourth stanza of the latter.) Robert Burns "discovered" the song, according to his account, in 1787, when he heard it sung by the Rev­erend John Clunie. He had it transcribed, added a final stanza, "mended" others, and eventually had the poem published in volume 3 of James Johnson's The Scots Musical Museum (1790), acknowledging Pagan's authorship only in later editions. "This beautiful song," he said, "is in the true old Scotch taste, yet I do not know that either air or words were in print before. It has a border sound." 6 For George Thomson's Select Collection of Original Scottish Airs (1793-

5. For a discussion of the attribution, see ibid., II4.

6. Robert Burns, The Works of Robert Burns, ed. John Wilson, 2 vols. (Glasgow, 1852), 32.

542 Isabel Pagan

99) Burns substantially altered the poem once again, much to its detriment. His second attempt at revision retains only the first stanza of the original, followed by twenty new lines, beginning "Hark the mavis' evening sang" and closing with the original first stanza repeated.7 By 1845 Pagan's book had become so rare that Alex Whitelaw, doing research for a volume on Scottish song, was unable to locate a copy or even to confirm its contents.8 However, he recorded that the tune for "Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes" was still familiar and that the song was still being sung.

Despite what many considered a dissolute existence, Pagan lived to be eighty years old, dying on 3 November l82r. Because she was such a well­known eccentric, her funeral was an event of considerable local interest, and people from all walks oflife paid their respects. "Ca' the Ewes to the K.nowes" is widely taught to Scottish schoolchildren to this day.

MAJOR WORK: A Collection of Songs and Poems on Several Occasions (Glasgow, 1803).

TEXTS USED: Text of "Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes" from James Johnson, The Scots Musical Museum, 6vols. (Edinburgh, 1787-1803), 3 :273. Text of"The Crook and Plaid" from The Contemporaries of Burns, and the More Recent Poets of Ayrshire, with Selections from their Writings, by (James Paterson] (Edinburgh, 1840), n9-20. All other poems from Pagan's Collection of Songs and Poems on Several Occasions.

7. See Burns to George Thomson, September 1794, in which he includes this revision, in ibid.

8. Writing in r840 , Paterson said that he had an incomplete copy and that he doubted that another could be found anywhere; however, the British Library now owns a complete copy.

I Knowes] Knolls.

Isabel Pagan

Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes

Ca' the ewes to the knowes, Ca' them whare the heather grows, Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,

My bonnie dearie.

As I gaed down the water-side, There I met my shepherd-lad, He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,

An he ca'd me his dearie. Chos. Ca' the ewes &c.

Will ye gang down the water-side And see the waves sae sweetly glide Beneath the hazels spreading wide,

The moon it shines fu' clearly. Chos. Ca' the ewes &c.

I was bred up at nae sic school, My shepherd-lad, to play the fool, And a' the day to sit in dool,

And nae body to see me. Chos. Ca' the ewes &c.

Ye sail get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep,

And ye sail be my dearie. Chos. Ca' the ewes &c.

If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd-lad,

3 whare the burnie rowes] Where the stream rolls.

543

7 row'd me ... in his plaid] Wrapped me . . . in his tartan (a euphemism for sexual intimacy). 15 nae sic school] No such school. I7 deal] Sadness.

IO

20

544 I.sabel Pagan

And ye may rowe me in your plaid, And I sail be your dearie.

Chos. Ca' the ewes &c.*

(wr. c. 1787; pub. 1790)

'When he published the poem in the Scots Musical Museum (1790), Robert Burns added to the ending the following stanza, considerably altering the meaning of the whole.

While waters wimple0 to the sea; While day blinks0 in the lift0 sae hie; Till clay-cauld death sail blin'0 my e'e, Ye sall be my dearie.

meander, ripple shines heaven

close

The Crook and Plaid

Ilk lassie has a laddie she lo'es aboon the rest, Ilk lassie has a laddie, if she like to confess't, That is dear unto her bosom whatever be his trade; But my lover's aye the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

Ilk morn he climbs the mountains, his fleecy flocks to view, And hears the lav'rocks chanting, new sprung frae 'mang the dew; His bonnie wee bit doggie, sae frolicsome and glad, Rins aye before the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

And when that he is wearied, and lies upon the grass, ro What if that in his plaidie he hide a bonnie lass?­

Nae doubt there's a preference due to every trade, But commen' me to the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

And when in summer weather he is upon the hill, He reads in books of history that learns him meikle skill;

1 Ilk lassie] Each girl. 6 lav'rocks] Larks. 14 meikle] Much.

Isabel Pagan

There's nae sic joyous leisure to be had at ony trade, Save that the laddie follows that wears the crook and plaid.

What though in storms o' winter part o' his flock should die, My laddie is aye cheerie, and why should not I? The prospect o' the summer can weel mak' us glad;

545

Contented is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid. 20

King David was a shepherd while in the prime o' youth, And following the flocks he ponder'd upon truth; And when he came to be a king, and left his former trade, 'Twas an honour to the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

15 sic J Such.

(wr. c. 1787; pub. 1790)

Account of the Author's Lifetime

I was born near four miles from Nith-head, Where fourteen years I got my bread; My learning it can soon be told, Ten weeks when I was seven years old With a good old religious wife, Who liv'd a quiet and sober life; Indeed she took of me more pains Than some does now of forty bairns. With my attention, and her skill, I read the Bible no that ill; And when I grew a wee thought mair, I read when I had time to spare. But a' the whole tract of my time, I found myself inclin'd to rhyme; When I see merry company, I sing a song with mirth and glee,

21 King David was a shepherd] The Biblical king of the Hebrew people; as a child he was in charge of his father's sheep and displayed his courage by killing both a lion and a bear that attacked the flock.

8 bairns] Children.

IO

20

IO

20

Isabel Pagan

And sometimes I the whisky pree, But 'deed its best to let it be. N my faults I will not tell, I scarcely ken them a' mysel; I've come thro' various scenes of life, Yet never was a married wife.

(1803)

A New Love Song, with the Answer

I have travell'd the country both early and late, My travels were many, my sorrows were great, I courted a fair maid who did me disdain, She aften deny'd me, but I'll try her again.

I own that her parents they were very rich, As I am not their equal it troubles me much, But will you leave father and mother also, And thro' the wise world with your darling love go.

0 Johnny, dear, Johnny, love, that will not do, For to leave my parents, love, and go with you, To leave my relations to mourn for my sake, And thro' the wide world to follow a rake.

Some says I am rakish, some says I am wild, Some says the fair damsels I often beguile, For that is a falsehood, and that I will prove, I'm guilty of nothing, but innocent love.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my fortune's so bad, That I have been slighted by any false maid, 'Tis false information that I may think on, It makes me lament, love, for what I have done.

17 pree] Try, sample. 20 ken) Know.

Isabel Pagan

My love she is proper, though not very tall, Her decent behavior it far exceeds all, She has my heart bound, that it cannot get free, She has too many sweethearts for to marry me.

Farewell to this country, I bid it adieu, Wherever I go, love, I will think on you, For sleeping, or waking, you're still in my mind, To sail to America is my whole design.

(1803)

The Answer

My Johnny is left me and gone to the sea, I mourn for the absence of his company, My parents was rich, and they did him despise, And they advised me to do so likewise.

Alas! he has gone the wide world to range, And were he but here now, my mind would soon change, For sleeping and waking, I'm never at rest, To think on my Johnny my mind's sore oppress'd.

My love he is handsome in every degree, Good natur'd and sober was his company, He is voic'd like a blackbird, and eyed like a dove, He is every way handsome the man that I love.

And dearly I lov'd him, as I lov'd my life, Although 'tis decreed that I am not his wife, Yet he has my heart in his bosom secure, We are all born to troubles, I must that endure.

547

IO

Isabel Pagan

On Burns and Ramsay

Now Burns and Ramsay both are dead, Although I cannot them succeed; Yet here I'll try my natural skill, And hope you will not take it ill.

You know their learning was not sma', And mine is next to nane at a'; Theirs must be brighter far than mine, Because I'm much on the decline.

I hope the public will excuse IO What I have done here by the Muse;

As diff'rent men are of diff'rent minds, My meter is of diff'rent kinds.

(1803)

l Bums and Ramsay] Allan Ramsay (1686-1758) was a Scots poet who helped re­vive vernacular Scots poetry with publications such as The Tea-Table Miscellany (1724-

37), a collection of surviving traditional songs and ballads, and The Ever Green (1724),

containing work by the great poets of late medieval Scotland. Robert Burns (1759-

96) , author of Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (1786), was lionized by Edinburgh's literary and aristocratic society as a peasant poet, though he was well educated. He developed a passion for collecting old Scots songs for The Scots Musical Museum and contributed some original compositions as well. He was much influenced by Ramsay· and could write with ease both in correct eighteenth-century English and in his native Scots.

Isabel Pagan

A Letter

Sir, be pleas'd these lines to read, Pray take it not amiss,

And, if you please, I wish to know How Captain L __ n is.

For he was cheerfu' on the moors, With music in his heart,

And with his money I am sure, Was never swear to part.

I thank you for your bottle, Sir, But woes my heart its dry,

'Tis in your power to fill't again, The next time you come by.

It is my lot to live my lane, And sometimes I think lang,

Sometimes I do amuse myself With making of a song.

Were I in power to publish them, To be sung when I'm dead,

And while I am upon the stage, Might help to merit bread.

Let this be shown to Lady Kirk, That noble hearted chiel,

God bless him and his family, I thank him for his meal.

Sir, by misfortune of a dog, Old chucky lost her life,

Disturbed Robin's family, Especially his wife.

r3 my lane] Alone; without a mate.

549

IO

20

30

IO

20

550 Isabel Pagan

'Deed I'm afraid she'll break her heart, Sir, I maun let you ken,

For aye when I see her she cries, Alas! the old muir-hen.

The Spinning Wheel

When I sit at my spinning wheel, And think on every station,

I think I'm happiest myself, At my small occupation.

No court, nor freet, nor dark debate, Can e'er attend my dwelling,

While I make cloth of diff'rent sorts, Which is an honest calling.

Indeed ye know the nights are lang, And sometimes I do weary,

But, as they'll shortly turn again, I hope I'll grow more cheery.

I'll sing a song with noble glee, And tune that I think canty,

But I sing best, it is no jest, When the tobacco's plenty.

I live content, I pay no rent, In my quiet habitation,

For B--e he did order it, Which shews his great discretion.

To favor one so low as me, While I was no relation;

But now he's dead, and in the clay, I hope he's won the blessing.

30 rnaun let you ken] Must let you know. 5 freet] Fret; vexation. 14 canty] Cheerful, lively, neat and small.

Isabel Pagan

M'A- m brave, agrees to this Kind, honest disposition,

He's charitable, just and true, Not like most men of fashion.

I have no reason here to fret, That I was never married,

Since I a free possession get, Of freedom I'm not wearied.

For when around me I do look, And see the merchants dealing,

For they do triple profit take For every thing they're selling;

For honesty is grown so weak, It is so old a fashion,

'Tis not regarded in our day, 'Tis scarce throughout the nation.

Kind Providence sent a good crop For to support our nation,

But Satan's crew sent it abroad, Which is a sad vexation,

That e'er such blackguard vagabonds Should have a habitation

Below our British government, That takes this occupation.

(1803)

30

40

552

IO

20

30

Isabel Pagan

A Love Letter

If you desir' d my bosom friend, Now if you can think it so,

Pray yield all pleasures to my mind, And make much happiness to flow.

Sure its decreed by the pow'rs above, As I'm now oblig'd to think,

We'll lay aside all flattering words, And close in love's embraces link.

What though envy and lying tongues, 'Gainst you their utmost forces bend,

And some makes money all their hope, While love, you know's, a lasting friend.

When absent from your company, 'Tis great uneasiness to me,

But hope again makes love remain, I'm still rejoicing thee to see.

At night when I go to my rest, Thinking to get some sweet repose,

Your image still is with me there, Sweeter far than any rose.

But yet far short of the sweet joys, That love's embraces now have press'd,

In thy soft arms to be enclos'd, And there in silence sleep to rest.

I will guard thee round about, Myself, I'm sure, shall be the door,

And if thy heart chance to steal out, I vow I'll never love thee more.

Though father fret, and mother scold, Although that all my friends should frown,

Isabel Pagan

All that I have thou art sure of, And well may think it all thine own.

I have not time to make more rhyme, So well's my judgment could express,

But I am thine, and heart and mind, Sincerely hope the Lord will bless.

If you'll be true as I'm to you, So shall you find me evermore,

I add no more, but so I rest, Sincere your true love and your dear.

(1803)

Muirkirk Light Weights

In Muirkirk there lives a taylor, He scrimpit weight for greed of filler; He scrimpit weight, he counts not fair, Till he's made three hundred pounds and mair.

The year the sugar has come down, Three pounds give less nor half-a-crown, And a' the dealers round about Came to the taylor in great doubt, Whether to hang themselves or no. Some said they would, and some said no; Some said, I think we will set a day, We'll fast and sigh, and read and pray, Perhaps the gods will please that well, If we turn to them frae the de'il.

The taylor said, with heart right fair, I fear for me God will not care, For I within my coat do wear

2 scrimpit] Shaved.

553

IO

554

20

30

40

Isabel Pagan

Ten thousand curses every year. There's something I'll confess and tell, Beside me I do keep a mell, And now and then my weights do hit, And whiles break aff a gay wee bit.

The oldest dealer he did say, What will be said at the last day?

The taylor said, ne'er mind the last, If we can but make money fast; There will be large allowance gaun For every dealer in the land.

Then every one thought to themsell 'Tis good for us to keep a mell, So they struck a' their weights right fair, Some broke off less, and some broke mair. This practice did so long prevail, Till poor workmen were like to fail.

Some told the Dean of Guild of Ayr That Muirkirk weights they were not fair; To try the same was his intent, The standard to Muirkirk he sent.

The day was short, the road was wet, For depute, he employ'd c--t, Who thought it was his only chance To seize the merchants all at once, And bring them all unto one place, And do them justice to their face.

0 man, it was a pleasant sight, The works of darkness brought to light. How bravely I their names could tell, Who had been busy with the mell;

20 mell] hammer.

Isabel Pagan

But this at present, I will spare, And hope they will do so nae mair.

Thanks to the gentlemen and judges that were there, I'm sure they acted honourably, no person they did spare; Long may they live, and happy be, and aye to good inclin'd, And aye when 'tis convenient, their standard they should mind.

(1803)

555

50