The Laid o' Cockpen

Music has always been a large part of my life, but I've always been better at listening and appreciating than producing it. Without the voice for singing or the eyesight for sight-reading, I ended up in the most abstract expression of music: composition and theory. 

My current course of study involves two music-writing exercises: counterpoint and harmonization. Harmonizing a tune is rather like completing a puzzle. Each note of the melody presents a distinct set of possibilities which affect the tone and character of the song.

A song that begins with the melody on F could call for another F in the bass, making an F root chord...or you could use a D, or an A, a B (assuming a B-flat or F-sharp, to avoid the tritone), or in extreme cases a C (for a 6/4 chord). And that's only using triads.

A simple two-part harmony can sound a little bare; four voices (Soprano-Alto-Tenor-Bass) is considered the ideal.

My teacher has decided that all the songs I should harmonize are old Scottish ditties. The latest is 'The Laird o' Cockpen', written by Carolina Oliphant, (Lady Nairne), known for her beauty and Jacobism in addition to her poetry.

The Laird of Cockpen was a companion-in-arms to Charles II who fought with him at Worcester and was in exile with him in the Netherlands. He was also a musician who wrote the song Brose and Butter. After the Restoration the Laird appealed for the return of his property, but was not granted an audience.

Cockpen then reportedly gained admission to a play he knew the King would also attend. When the play was over Brose and Butter played. Charles went to Cockpen remarking that the air had almost made him dance. The Laird replied, "I could dance, too, if I had my lands again." Charles thereupon restored his lands.

This is the tune,

And this is my 4-part harmony:

The Laird o' Cockpen

The laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an' he's great,
His mind is ta'en up wi' things o' the State;
He wanted a wife, his braw house to keep,
But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.

Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,
At his table head he thought she'd look well,
McClish's ae daughter o' Claversha' Lee,
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.

His wig was weel pouther'd and as gude as were new,
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat,
And wha could refuse the laird wi' a' that?

He took the grey mare, and rode cannily,
An' rapp'd at the yett o' Claversha' Lee;
"Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen".

Mistress Jean was makin' the elderflower wine;
"An' what brings the laird at sic a like time?"
She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown,
Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down.

An' when she cam' ben, he bowed fu' low,
An' what was his errand he soon let her know;
Amazed was the laird when the lady said "Na",
And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'.

Dumfounder'd was he, nae sigh did he gie,
He mounted his mare - he rade cannily;
An' aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen,
She were daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen.

The song often ends there, but Sir Andrew Boswell (the, ahem, natural son of James Boswell) wrote two more verses which offer an arguably happier ending to he story:

And now that the laird his exit had made,
Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said;
"Oh, for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll get ten,
I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen".

Next time that the laird and the lady was seen,
They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green;
Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen,
But as yet there's nae chickens appear'd at Cockpen.

 Gaelic or otherwise curious terms:

fashious=troublesome
ae=one
pouther'd=powdered
yett=gate
sic=such
mutch=close fitting cap
ben=through
laigh=low
waur=worse
tappit=tufted