"The Banks of the Dee" is, you know, literally
"Langolee," to slow time. The song is well enough, but has some false
imagery in it: for instance,
"And sweetly the nightingale sang from the tree."
In the first place, the nightingale sings in a low bush, but never
from a tree; and in the second place, there never was a nightingale
seen or heard on the banks of the Dee, or on the banks of any other
river in Scotland. Exotic rural imagery is always comparatively
flat.[213] If I could hit on another stanza, equal to "The small birds
rejoice," &c., I do myself honestly avow, that I think it a superior
song.[214] "John Anderson, my jo"--the song to this tune in Johnson's
Museum, is my composition, and I think it not my worst:[215] if it suit
you, take it, and welcome. Your collection of sentimental and pathetic
songs, is, in my opinion, very complete; but not so your comic ones.
Where are "Tullochgorum," "Lumps o' puddin," "Tibbie Fowler," and
several others, which, in my humble judgment, are well worthy of
preservation? There is also one sentimental song of mine in the
Museum, which never was known out of the immediate neighbourhood,
until I got it taken down from a country girl's singing.
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