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For Huntly 37 and Sinclair, 58

They baith play'd the tinkler, With consciences black like a craw,

Some Angus and Fife men,

They ran for their life, man,
And ne'er a Lot's wife there at a', man !

Then Lawrie, the traitor,

Who betray'd his master,
His king, and his country, and a', man,

Pretending Mar might

Give order to fight
To the right of the army awa, man;

Then Lawrie, for fear

Of what he might bear,
Took Drummond's best horse, and awa, man;

Stead of going to Perth,

He crossed the Firth,
Alongst Stirling Bridge, and awa, man.

To London he press'd,

And there he address'd,
That he bebaved best o’them a', man ;

And there, without strife,

Got settled for life,
An hundred a-year to his fa', man.

In Borrowstounness,

He rides with disgrace,
Till his neck stand in need of a draw, man ;

And then in a tether,

He'll swing from a ladder, And

go off the stage with a pa', man.39

Rob Roy 40 stood watch

On a hill, for to catch 37 Alexander, Marquis of Huntly, afterwards Duke of Gordon. 38 The Master of Sinclair.

89 These four stanzas seem to refer to a circumstance reported at the time; namely, that a person had left the Duke of Argyle's army, and join. ed the Earl of Mar's, before the battle, intending to act as a spy; and that, being employed by Mar to inform the left wing that the right was victorious, he gave a contrary statement, and, after seeing them retire accordingly, went back again to the royal

army. 40° The celebrated Rob Roy. This redoubted hero was prevented, by

The booty, for ought that I saw, man ;

For he ne'er advanced

From the place he was stanced, Till no more to do there at a', man.

So we all took the flight,

And Mowbray the wright,
But Lethem, the smith, was a braw man,

For he took the gout,

Which truly was wit,
By judging it time to withdraw, man.

And trumpet M*Lean,

Whose breeks were not clean,
Through misfortune he happen'd to fa', man ;

By saving his neck,

His trumpet did break,
Came aff without music at a', man.

So there such a race was,

As ne'er in that place was,
And as little chase was at a', man ;

From other they ran,

Without touk of drum,
They did not make use of a pa', man.

Whether we ran, or they ran,

Or we wan, or they wan,
Or if there was winning at a', man,

There's no man can tell,

Save our brave generall,
Wha first began running awa, man,

Wi' the Earl o' Seaforth,

And the Cock o' the North ; 41 But Florence ran fastest ava, man,

Save the laird o' Phineven,42

Who swore to be even
Wi' any general or peer o' them a', man.

mixed motives, from joining either party: he could not fight against the Earl of Mar, consistent with his conscience, nor could he oppose the Duke of Argyle, without forfeiting the protection of a powerful friend.

41 An honorary popular title of the Duke of Gordon. 42. Carnegy of Finhaven.

And we ran, and they ran ; and they ran, and we

ran; And we ran, and they ran awa, man.43



TUNE- The Cameronian Rant.

O, CAM ye here the fecht to shun,

Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ;
Or was ye at the Shirra-muir,

And did the battle see, man ?
I saw the battle, sair and teuch,
And reekin red ran mony a sheuch ;
My heart, for fear, ga’e sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds,
O’clans frae wuds, 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 bluid 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 through they dash'd, and hew'd and smash’d,

Till fey men died awa, man.

But had you seen the philabegs,

And skyrin' tartan trews, man,
When in the teeth they daur'd our Whigs

And covenant true-blues, man :
In lines extended lang and large,
When bayonets opposed the targe,

43 From Herd's Collection, 1776, except the sixth and the two last verses, which are added from the Jacobite Relics, although they contain a contradiction regarding the conduct of the Earl of Mar.

And thousands hasten'd 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 ?

The chase gaed frae the north, man ;
I saw mysell, they did pursue

The horsemen back to Forth, man;
And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,
And straight to Stirling wing'd their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And mony a huntit puir red-coat

For fear amaist did swarf, man.

the gate,

My sister Kate cam up

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 neebours' bluid 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 in his enemies' hands, man.
Now wad ye sing this double flight,
Some fell for wrang, and some for right;
And mony bade the world gude night ;
Say pell and mell, wi' muskets' knell,
How Tories fell, and Whigs to hell

Flew aff in frighted bands, man.*

* Burns wrote this song upon the model of an old one, called " A Dialogue between Will Lick-ladle and Tom Clean-cogue, twa shepherds, wha were feeding their flocks on the Ochil Hills, the day the battle of Sheriffmuir was fought;" which may be found in many ordinary collections.


TUNE-The Carle he cam ower the Craft.

The carle he cam ower the craft,

Wi' his beard new-shaven;
He looked at me as he'd been daft,

The carle trowed that I wad hae him.
Hout awa! I winna hae him !

Na, forsooth, I winna bae him !
For a' his beard new-shaven,

Ne'er a bit o' me will hae him.

A siller brooch he gae me neist,

To fasten on my curchie nookit;
I wore 't a wee upon my breist,

But soon, alake! the tongue o't crookit ;
And sae may bis ; I winna hae him !

Na, forsooth, I winna hae him !
Twice-a-bairn's a lassie's jest ;
fool for me may

hae him.

The carle has nae fault but ane;

For he has land and dollars plenty ;
But, wae's me for him, skin and bane

Is no for a plump lass of twenty.
Hout awa, I winna hae him !

Na, forsooth, I winna hae him !
What signifies his dirty riggs,

And cash, without a man wi' them?

But should my cankert daddie gar

Me tak him 'gainst my inclination,
I warn the fumbler to beware

That antlers dinna claim their station.
Hout awa! I winna hae him !

Na, forsooth, I winna hae him !
I'm fleyed to crack the holy band,

Sae lawty says, I should na hae him.*

* From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.

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