They hack'd ana hash'd, while broadswords] clash'd,

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlets plays;

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 bayonets opposed the targe,
And thousands hastened 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 myself, 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 winged their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut;
And mony a hunted poor red-coat

For fear amaist did swarf, man."

My sister Kate came up the gate

Wi' crowdie unto me, man:
She swoor she saw some rebels run,

Frae Perth unto Dundee, man;
Their left-hand general had nae skill,
The Angus lads had nae good will
That day their neebor's blood to spill;
For fear by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o' brose; all crying woes,
And so it goes, you see, 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 gude-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 BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.

I COMPOSED these stanzas standing under the Falls of Aberfeldy, at or near Moness.

Tune-"The Birks of Abergeldy."\

Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, Bonnie lassie, will ye go, to the Birks of Aberfeldy ?

In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c.

While o'er their head the hazels hing,
The little birdies blythely sing,
Or licktly flit on wanton wing,
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonnie lassie, &c.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foamin' stream deep-roaring fa's,
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreadin' shaws,
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonnie lassie, &c.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flow'rs,
White ower the lin the burnie pours,
And, risin', weets wi' misty show'rs
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonnie lassie, &c.

Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, Supremely bless'd wi' love and thee, In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c.

THE BIG-BELLIED BOTTLE.

Tune" Prepare, my dear Brethren, to the Tavern let's fly."

No churchman am I, for to rail and to write;
No statesman or soldier, to plot or to fight;
No sly man of business, contriving a snare;
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.

The peer I don't envy-I give him his bow;
I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are
here,

And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.

Wishfully I look and languish,

In that bonnie face of thine; And my heart it stounds wi' anguish, Lest my wee thing be na mine, Bonnie wee thing, fe,

Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee is my duty,

Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
Bonnie wes thing, &e.

THE BRAES Oʻ BALLOCHMYLE THE Catrine woods were yellow seeti, The flowers decayed on Catrine les, Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,

But nature sicken'd on the ee. Thro' faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while,
And aye the wild wood echoes rang,
Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle.

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair;
Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,
Again ye'll charm the vocal air.
But here, alas! for me nae mair,

Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, farewee!! sweet Ballochmyle!

THE CARL OF KELLYBURN BRAES.

THESE words are mine; I composed them from the old traditionary verses.

THERE lived a carl on Kellyburn braes,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) And he had a wife was the plague o' his days; And the thyme it is wither'd and the rue is in prime.

Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) He met wi' the devil; says, “How do yow fen?" And the thyme it is wither'd and the rue is

in prime,

"I've got a bad wife, Sir; that's a' my complaint;

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme)

Catrine, in Ayrshire, the seat of Dugald Stewart, Esq. Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. Ballochmyle, formerly the seat of Sir John Whiteroerd, now of Alexander, Rog. (1800),

For, ving

in prime."

And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime.

He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door;

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) Syne bade her gae in, for a bitch and a whore, And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime,

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) Tarn out on her gaurd in the clap of a hand; And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is prime.

The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wude bear, (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) Whae'er she gat hands on came near her nae mair';

And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue in prime.

"A reekit wee devil looks over the wa';

is

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) O, help, master, help, or she'll ruin us a', And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime.".

The devil he swore by the edge o' his knife, (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) He pitied the man that was tied to a wife; And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime.

The devil he swore by the kirk and the bell, (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) He was not in wedlock, thank heaven, but in hell;

And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime.

Then Setan has travelled again wi' his pack ; (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme)

But

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme) ne'er was in hell, till I met wi' a wife; And the thyme it is wither'd, and the rue is in prime.

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem When the lingerin' moments are numbered by

fair,

care?

No flowers gaily springing,

Or birds sweetly singing,
Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dared, could it merit their ma

lice

Thou strikest the dull peasant; he sinks in the dark,

Nor saves even the wreck of a name ; Thou strikest the young hero-a glorious mark! He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the proud field of honour-our swords in our hands,

Our king and our country to saveWhile victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, O! who would not die with the brave!

THE DEIL'S AWA WI' THE EXCISEMAN.

THE deil cam fiddling through the toun,
And danced awa wi' the exciseman;
And ilka auld wife cried, Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man.
The deil's awa, the deil's awa,

The deil's awa wi' the exciseman;
He's danced awa, he's danced awa,
He's danced awa wi' the exciseman!

We'll mak our maut, we'll brew our drink,
We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man;
And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil,
That danced awa wi' the exciseman!

The deil's awa, &c.

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man ;

THE ELECTION.'

Tune" Fy, let us a' to the bridal."

Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickering there,
For Murray's light horse are to muster ;
And oh, how the heroes will swear!

AND there will be Murray commander,
And Gordon the batttle to win :
Like brithers they'll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance and sin.
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be black-nebbed Johnnie,
The tongue of the trump to them a';
If he get na hell for his haddin',
The deil gets nae justice ava!
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be Templeton's birkie,
A boy no sae black at the bane;
But, as to his fine Nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be Wigton's new sheriff: Dame Justice fu' brawly has sped; She's gotten the heart of a B- -by, But what has become of the head? Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be Cardoness' squire,

So mighty in Cardoness' eyes;
A wight that will weather damnation,
For the devil the prey will despise.
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be Douglasses doughty,
New christening towns far and near;
Abjuring their democrat doings,
By kissing the doup of a peer
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there will be Kenmure sae generous,
Whose honour is proof 'gainst the storm;
To save them frae stark reprobation,
He lent them his name to the firm.
Fy, let us a', &c.

But we winna mention Redcastle;
The body, e'en let him escape:
He'd venture the gallows for siller,
An 'twerena the cost o' the rape.
Fy, let us a', &c.

And there is our King's Lord Lieutenant,
Sae famed for his grateful return?