| |
| “O, CAM ye here the fight to shun, | |
| Or herd the sheep wi’ me, man? | |
| Or were ye at the Sherra-muir, | |
| And did the battle see, man?” | |
| I saw the battle, sair and tough, | 5 |
| And reekin’ red ran monie a sheugh; | |
| My heart, for fear, gaed sough for sough, | |
| To hear the thuds, and see the cluds, | |
| O’ clans frae woods, in tartan duds, | |
| Wha glaumed at kingdoms three, man. | 10 |
| |
| “The redcoat lads, wi’ black cockades, | |
| To meet them were na slaw, man; | |
| They rushed and pushed, and bluid outgushed, | |
| And monie a bouk did fa’, man: | |
| The great Argyle led on his files, | 15 |
| I wat they glanced for twenty miles: | |
| They hacked and hashed, while broadswords clashed, | |
| And through they dashed, and hewed, and smashed, | |
| Till fey men died awa’, man. | |
| |
| “But had you seen the philabegs, | 20 |
| And skyrin tartan trews, man, | |
| When in the teeth they dared our Whigs, | |
| And covenant true-blues, man; | |
| In lines extended lang and large, | |
| When bayonets opposed the targe, | 25 |
| And thousands hastened to the charge, | |
| Wi’ Highland wrath they frae the sheath | |
| Drew blades o’ death, till, out o’ breath, | |
| They fled like frighted doos, man.” | |
| |
| “O how deil, Tam, can that be true? | 30 |
| The chase gaed frae the North, man; | |
| I saw myself they did pursue | |
| The horsemen back to Forth, man; | |
| And at Dunblane, in my ain sight, | |
| They took the brig wi’ a’ their might, | 35 |
| And straught to Stirling winged their flight; | |
| But, cursed lot! the gates were shut; | |
| And monie a huntit, poor redcoat, | |
| For fear amaist did swarf, man!” | |
| |
| “My sister Kate cam up the gate, | 40 |
| Wi’ crowdie unto me, man; | |
| She swore she saw some rebels run | |
| Frae Perth unto Dundee, man: | |
| Their left-hand general had nae skill, | |
| The Angus lads had nae good-will | 45 |
| That day their neibors’ blood to spill; | |
| For fear, by foes, that they should lose | |
| Their cogs o’ brose,—all crying woes; | |
| And so it goes, you see, man. | |
| |
| “They ’ve lost some gallant gentlemen | 50 |
| Amang the Highland clans, man; | |
| I fear my Lord Panmure is slain, | |
| Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man. | |
| Now wad ye sing this double fight, | |
| Some fell for wrang, and some for right; | 55 |
| But monie bade the world guid-night; | |
| Then ye may tell, how pell and mell, | |
| By red claymores, and muskets’ knell, | |
| Wi’ dying yell, the Tories fell, | |
| And Whigs to hell did flee, man.” | 60 |
| |
