IO

ON THE BATTLE OF SHERIFFMUIR,

BETWEEN THE DUKE OF ARGYLE AND THE EARL OF MAR.

O CAM ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
Or were you at the Sherra-muir,
And did the battle see, man?'
I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reeking-red ran mony a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.

The red-coat lads, wi' black cockades,
To meet them were na slaw, man;
They rush'd and push'd, and blude out-gush'd,
And mony a bouk did fa', man:

The great Argyle led on his files,

I wat they glanced twenty miles:

They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles,

They hack'd and hash'd, while broadswords clash'd,
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd,
Till fey men died awa, man.

But had you seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man,

When in the teeth they dar'd our whigs,
And covenant true blues, man;
In lines extended lang and large,
When baig'nets overpower'd the targe,
And thousands hasten'd to the charge,
Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till, out of breath,
They fled like frighted doos, man.

'O how deil, Tam, can that be true?
The chase gaed frae the north, man:
I saw mysel, they did pursue

The horsemen back to Forth, man;

And at Dumblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,
And straught to Stirling wing'd their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And mony a huntit, poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man.'

My sister Kate cam up the gate
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 guid-will,
That day their neibors' blood to spill;
For fear, by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o' brose, they scared at blows,
And hameward fast did flee, man.

They've lost some gallant gentlemen
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;
But mony 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.

THE FIVE CARLINS,

AN ELECTION BALLAD OF 1789.

THERE was five Carlins in the south,
They fell upon a scheme,

To send a lad to Lon'on town
To bring us tidings hame.

Not only bring us tidings hame,

But do our errands there,

And aiblins gowd and honour baith
Might be that laddie's share.

There was Maggie by the banks o' Nith,
A dame wi' pride enough;
And Marjorie o' the mony Lochs,
A Carlin auld an' teugh.

And blinkin Bess o' Annandale,
That dwells near Solway side;

And whisky Jean, that took her gill,
In Galloway so wide.

And auld black Joan frae Creighton peel,
O' gipsy kith an' kin;

Five wighter Carlins were na foun'

The south countree within.

To send a lad to Lon'on town
They met upon a day;

And mony a Knight and mony a Laird,
That errand fain would gae.

O! mony a Knight and mony a Laird,
This errand fain would gae;

But nae ane could their fancy please,
O! ne'er a ane but twae.

The first ane was a belted Knight,
Bred o' a border clan,

An' he wad gae to Lon'on town,
Might nae man him withstan'.

And he wad do their errands weel,
And meikle he wad say,

And ilka ane at Lon'on court

Wad bid to him guid day.

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Then neist came in a sodger youth,
And spak wi' modest grace,
An' he wad gae to Lon'on town,
If sae their pleasure was.

He wad na hecht them courtly gift,
Nor meikle speech pretend;

But he wad hecht an honest heart
Wad ne'er desert his friend.

Now wham to choose and wham refuse,
To strife thae Carlins fell;

For some had gentle folk to please,
And some wad please themsel.

Then out spak mim-mou'd Meg o' Nith,
An' she spak out wi' pride,

An' she wad send the sodger youth
Whatever might betide.

For the auld guidman o' Lon'on court
She didna care a pin,

But she wad send the sodger youth
To greet his eldest son.

Then up sprang Bess o' Annandale :
A deadly aith she's ta'en,

That she wad vote the border Knight,
Tho' she should vote her lane.

For far aff fowls hae feathers fair,
An' fools o' change are fain :
But I hae tried the border Knight,
And I'll try him yet again.

Says auld black Joan frae Creighton peel,
A Carlin stoor and grim,

The auld guidman or young guidman,

For me may sink or swim!

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For fools will prate o' right and wrang,
While knaves laugh them to scorn:
But the sodgers' friends hae blawn the best,
Sae he shall bear the horn.

Then whisky Jean spak o'er her drink,
Ye weel ken, kimmers a',

The auld guidman o' Lon'on court,
His back's been at the wa';

And mony a friend that kiss'd his caup,
Is now a fremmit wight;

But it's ne'er be said o' whisky Jean,-
We'll send the border Knight.

Then slow raise Marjorie o' the Lochs,
And wrinkled was her brow;
Her ancient weed was russet gray,
Her auld Scots bluid was true.

There's some great folks set light by me,
I set as light by them;

But I will send to Lon'on town,

Wha I lo'e best at hame.

So how this weighty plea will end,
Nae mortal wight can tell;

God grant the King and ilka man
May look weel to himsel'!

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WHEN GUILDFORD GOOD OUR PILOT STOOD.

A FRAGMENT.

WHEN Guildford good our Pilot stood,

An' did our hellim thraw, man,

Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man:
Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
And in the sea did jaw, man;
An' did nae less, in full Congress,
Than quite refuse our law, man.