The SUPPLICATION and LAMENTATION of George Fachney,
an Officer in Caldwells Regiment of Robbers, To Rob Roy in the Highlands,
with Rob Roys Answer.
Now timely Runnings no small Part
Of Conduct in the martial Art.
A Flyer may turn and fight again,
Which he can never do thats slain. Hudibrass.
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A Lawland Robber in Distress,
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As by the following Lines yell guess
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Sends his Petition by Express,
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Tis his last Shift,
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Unto your Highland Mightiness,
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To lend a Lift.
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Im een as fou of Grief and Wae,
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As eer ye was of Usquabae;
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I ken not what to do or say,
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Tho anes right stout:
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For if that you shoud say me nay,
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My Pipes clean out.
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Greivd will ye be to understand,
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That my new Regment is trapand,
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The maist Feck in the Enmys Hand,
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and tried by Law.
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I fear, I fear, it will disband,
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may that be a
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Youve thrivn sae long at your bra Trade,
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And ay sae cannily youve sped:
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For a Foks ken what Life youve led,
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nae very leil,
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That I rurnd sond, and unco glad
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to rob and steal.
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My Colonels raisd the Huy and Cry,
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(Tho he in the Tolbooth doth ly,
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To bring me in that I may dy,
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Hang like a Dog:
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Cause from my Collours I did fly,
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Hes but a Rogue.
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Now Ill be judgd by you dear Rob,
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If I be taken by the Mob,
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In Hangies Halter I man bob,
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A fair Affront:
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It gars me een baith Sigh and Sob
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To think upont.
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Tell me what can I do alane,
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Whan a the rest are either Tane,
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By wicked Bailies or theyr gane,
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I ken nae where;
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Its een to you, Ill make my Main,
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My Hearts right sair.
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And O! it were an unko pity,
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To think upont it gars me greet ay,
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For to destroy this brae bandity,
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Padders sae good.
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Wae fa the Baillies of the city,
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That seeks our blood.
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But ye defy ay a your foes,
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Een Gallant Grahmes and their Montrose,
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Ye pit their hearts into their hose;
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And dings them a:
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And when your Claymore deals its blows,
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Ye scour awa.
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Its true but thats a Matter small,
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Yeve lost your Fortune and your Saul,
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Easy are ye if that be all;
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Yere nae fair wrangd
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But it wad een provok foks Gall:
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For to be hangd
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Na your Estate can neer be spent,
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For tho its forfeit your content,
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And ilk a Year ye draw the Rent
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Leaving a Line.
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Then aff gae ye and scours the Bent,
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To drink your wine,
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Wi your blyth Lads mang highland Hills,
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Ye Usque drink in Cogs not Gills,
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Tossing about your snishing-Mills,
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And their ye jouk:
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And little thinks that forgeing Bills,
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Gars my neck youk.
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Now gallant Rob, tis in your Power
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Us from the Gallows to secure,
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Come down in this unlucky Hour,
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tty to get back.
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The Fame ye lost at Sheriffmuir,
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mind thats the Knack,
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Dear Rob, believe what Im to tell:
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For Im nae Rogue, mair than your sell
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But een a Gamster very fell,
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as eer was seen;
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If yell steal aft my Colonel,
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and save him clean,
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Ill give the Tiend of all I gain,
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By throwing up a lucky Main,
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Or using Tricks Legerdemain,
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or win at Cards:
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And ye may een be very vain
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of sick Rewards.
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Sae if you please to grant my boon.
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Save him from dying in his Shoon,
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Send me an answer very soon;
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Ill say no more,
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Direct to me at the half Moon:
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Upon Leith shore.
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Your bold Address I do reject,
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Go Villains and swing by the Neck,
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Had there been sense in your Caball;
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You would have done like great Du-vall:
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Brought straying Lawyers to their Knees,
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Till they resingd superflous Fees.
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For all the World knows that they,
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Rob in their own allowed highway,
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Or had you made a brisk Attack,
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Layd the Quack Doctor on his Back.
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Till he layd down upon the Spot,
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What he for killing Patients got,
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Or had ye seizd on unfree Traders,
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(O ye had done like honnest Padders,)
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Who damn their Souls to cheat the Prince,
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And send abroad the British Pence.
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But since you are but punny Rakes,
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Riffling the honest Pedlers Packs,
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Robbing from this and that poor Sinner,
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Who scarce know where to get their Din-ner
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Go and be hangd, you cant do better,
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Take this for Answer to your Letter.
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