| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
VII. PATRIOTIC AND POLITICAL |
||
|
The burn, adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa',
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whase roarings seem'd to rise and fa'.
The cauld blae North was streaming forth Her lights, wi' hissin, eerie din:
Athort the lift they start and shift, Like Fortune's favors, tint as win !
Now, looking over firth and fauld,
Her horn the pale-fac'd Cynthia rear'd,
"When lo ! in form of minstrel auld A stern and stalwart ghaist appear'd.
And frae his harp sic strains did flow, Might rous'd the slumb'ring dead to hear,
But O, it was a tale of woe As ever met a Briton's ear!
He sang wi' joy his former day,
He, weeping, wail'd his latter times :
But what he said—it was nae play !— I winna ventur't in my rhymes.
»♦ |
||
|
No. 261. The laddies by the banks o' Nith,
Tune : Up ar' waur them cC Willie (see infra).
Chorus. Up and waur them a', Jamie, Up and waur them a'! The Johnstones hae the guidin o't: Ye turncoat Whigs, awa I
The laddies by the banks o' Nith Wad trust his Grace wi' a', Jamie;
But he'll sair them as he sair'd the king— Turn tail and rin awa, Jamie !
The day he stude his country's friend,
Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie, Or frae puir man a blessin wan,—
That day the Duke ne'er saw, Jamie.
But wha is he, his country's boast?
Like him there is na twa, Jamie ! There's no a callant tents the kye,
But kens o' Westerha', Jamie. |
||