JENNY fhall wear the hood, Jocky the fark of GOD; And the kift fou of whistles, That make fick a cleiro, Our pipers bra, shall hae them a', whate'er comes on it; Busk up your plaids, my lads, cock up your bonnets, March, march, etc. Highland March. By Sir Harry Erskine. N the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome, Iron Bae of th-coverd mountains of Scotia we come, Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain, CHORUS. Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws, cause; We'll bravely fight like heroes bold, for honour and applaufe, And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws. No effeminate customs our finews unbrace, No luxurious tables enervate our race, Our loud-founding pipe bears the true martial strain, So do we the old Scottish valour retain. Such our love, etc. We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale, Such our love, etc. As a ftorm in the ocean when BOREAS blows, Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France, In our realm may the fury of faction long cease, That our friends ftill prove true, and our beauties prove kind. Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws, And teach our late pofterity to fight in Freedom's caufe, That they like our ancestors bold, etc. Little wat ye, etc. LITTLE wat ye wha's coming, Little wat ye wha's coming, JOCK and TAM and a's coming. DUNCAN'S coming, DONALD'S coming, Little wat ye wha's coming, JOCK and TAM and a's coming. BORLAND and his men's coming, Little wat ye, etc. M'GILVREY of Drumglafs is coming. WIGTON'S Coming NITHSDALE's coming, Blyth CowHILL and a's coming. The Laird of M'INTOSH is coming, Little wat ye, etc. DONALD GUN and a's coming. They gloom, they glowr, they look fae big, They'll fright the fuds of the Pockpuds, Little wat ye, etc. FRAGMENTS HEROIC OF BALLADS. HARDYKNUTE: Or, the Battle of LARGS*. TATELY ftapt he east the wa, ST And stately stapt he west : Full seventy zeirs he now had fene, And ay his fword tauld to their skaith, He was their deadly fae. Hie on a hill his castle stude, With halls and towirs a hicht, * The battle of Largs was fought on the 1st of August 1263, between Alexander the III. king of Scotland and Haquin the V. king of Norway, in their contention for the Northern and Western Ifles. Haquin had already reduced Bute and Arran; and making a descent with 20,000 men on the continent, was encountered and defeated by the Scots army at Largs in Airshire; upon which he retreated to his ships, and his fleet being diffipated, and in part destroyed by a tempest, he returned to the Orkneys, from whence he had made the descent, and there, after a few days illness, expired. And guidly chambres fair to fee, Full thirtein fons to him fcho bare, Hie was their fame, hie was their micht, Great luve they bare to FAIRLY fair, Her girdle fhawd her middle gimp, The King of Norse in fummer tyde, Drinking the blude-reid wyne. |