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viii. JACOBITE 263 |
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The great Argyle led on his files, I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles ; They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles, They hack'd and hash'd, while braid-swords clash'd, And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd, 'Till fey men died awa', man.
' But had ye seen the philabegs
And skyrin tartan trews, man, When in the teeth they daur'd our Whigs
And covenant True-blues, man I In lines extended lang and large, When baignets overpower'd the targe, 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 dows, man.'
1 Oh, how deil, Tam, can that be true ?
The chase gaed frae the North, man; I saw mysel, they did pursue
The horseman back to Forth, man; And at Dunblane, 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 monie a huntit poor red-coat
For fear amaist did swarf, man !'
1 My sister Kate cam up the gate
Wi' crowdie unto me, man : She swoor she saw some rebels run
To Perth and to Dundee, man ! Their left-hand general had nae skill; The Angus lads had nae good-will That day their neibor's blude to spill; For fear by foes that they should lose Their cogs o' brose, they scar'd 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 en'mies' hands, man : Now wad ye sing this double flight, Some fell for wrang, and some for right, But monie bade the world gude-night; Say, pell and mell, wi' muskets1 knell, How Tories fell, and Whigs to hell
Flew off in frighted bands, man 1' |
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