"Amidst George Macindoe's songs are two distinguished by more clearness and less vulgarity than the rest. One of these, called 'The Burn Trout,' was composed on a real incident which it describes, namely, a supper, where the chief dish was a salmon, brought from Peebles to Glasgow by my father,[69] who, when learning his business, as a manufacturer, in the western city, about the end of the century, had formed an acquaintance with the poet. The other, entitled 'Cheese and Whisky,' which contains some very droll verses, was written in compliment to my maternal uncle, William Gibson, then also a young manufacturer, but who died about two months ago, a retired captain of the 90th regiment. The jocund hospitable disposition of Gibson--'Bachelor Willie'--and my father's social good-nature, are pleasingly recalled to me by Macindoe's verses, rough as they are. "_June 1, 1855._" [69] Mr James Chambers, of Peebles, who died in 1824. CHEESE AND WHISKY. TUNE--_"The gude forgi' me for leein'."_ Believe me or doubt me, I dinna care whilk, When Bachelor Willie I 'm seeing, I feast upon whisky, and cheese o' ewe milk, And ne'er was choked for leeing, for leeing, And ne'er was choked for leeing. Your jams and your jellies, your sugars and teas, If e'er I thought worthy the preeing, Compared wi' gude whisky, and kebbocks o' cheese, May I sup porridge for leeing, for leeing, May I sup porridge for leeing. When patfou's o' kale, thick wi' barley and pease, Can as weel keep a body frae deeing, As stoupfou's o' whisky, and platefou's o' cheese, I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing, for leeing, I 'll dree to be scrimpit for leeing. Tho' the house where we 're sittin' were a' in a bleeze, I never could think about fleeing, But would guzzle the whisky, and rive at the cheese; Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing, I 'm leeing, Perhaps ye may think that I 'm leeing. THE BURN TROUT. TUNE--_"The gude forgi' me for leein'."_ Brither Jamie cam west, wi' a braw burn trout, An' speer'd how acquaintance were greeing; He brought it frae Peebles, tied up in a clout, An' said it wad just be a preeing, a preeing, An' said it wad just be a preeing. In the burn that rins by his grandmother's door This trout had lang been a dweller, Ae night fell asleep a wee piece frae the shore, An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller, the miller, An' was kill'd wi' a stane by the miller. This trout it was gutted an' dried on a nail That grannie had reested her ham on, Weel rubbed wi' saut, frae the head to the tail, An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon, a sa'mon, An' kipper'd as 't had been a sa'mon.