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THE BURNING OF AUCHINDOWN. 161
" Crawing, crawing,
For my crowse crawing, I lost the best feather i1 my wing,
For my crowse crawing." 20 |
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11. From The Tliistle of Scotland, p. 106.
" Turn, Willie Mackintosh,
Turn, I bid you, Gin ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly will head you."
" Head me, or hang me,
That canna fley me, I'll burn Auchindown,
Ere the life lea' me."
Coming down Dee-side
In a clear morning, Auchindown was in a flame,
Ere the cock crawing.
But coming o'er Cairn Croom,
And looking down, man,
I saw Willie Mackintosh
Burn Auchindown, man. VOL. vi. 11 |
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