[KILLYCHRANKIE
To be sung with its own Tune.]
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[CLaverse and his Highland-men,
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came down upon a Raw, then,
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Who being stout, gave many a Clout,
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the Lads began to claw then,
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With Swords and Targets in their Hands,
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wherewith they were not slaw then,
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And Clinkim Clankim on their Crowns,
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the Lads began to claw then.
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O're brink and bank, o're ditch and stank,
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her strake among them a then,
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The Butter-Box, gat many knocks,
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their Riggans pay'd for a then;
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They gat their pakes, with sudden strakes,
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which to their grief they saw then,
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And double dunts upon their Rumps,
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the Lads began to fa then.
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Her skipt about, and lept about,
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her flang amang them a then;
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The English Blades, gat broken Heads,
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their Crowns her clave in twa then,
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The Durk and Door, made their last hour,
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such was their final fa then,
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They thought the Devil had been there,
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that gave them a such taw then.
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Jack Presbyter, and's Covenant,
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came Whigging up the Hill, then,
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Thought Highland Trews, would not refuse;
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for to subscribe his Bill then,
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In Willies Name, the thought na ane
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would stop the Deed at a, then,
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But her nane sell Shock, with many a knock,
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cry'd, Whirry Whiggs awa, then.
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Sir Hugh McDow, with his Men true,
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came skipping o're the Brink, then,
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The Hogan Dutch, that feared such,
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they bred a horried stink, then,
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The true McClain, his gate has gane,
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and came upon a Raw, then,
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None could withstand, his heavy hand,
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he strake with such a paw, then.]
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Oh on o Ri on o Ri,
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Why should we loss King James then,
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O Rigni die. O Regni die!
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Her break a him's Benes then.
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Furichnish, but stay awhile,
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To speak a Word or twa then,
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And take a Strake upon his Neck,
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Before him gang awa' then.
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Fy for Shame him's twa for ane,
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And yet her's win the Day then.
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King Jamess Red-coats should be hang'd up
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Because they fled awa' then.
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Had bent him's Brows like Highland Trews
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And made as long a Stay then,
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Her'd kept the King that sacred Thing,
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And Willy had gone awa' then.
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Now Shentlemen and Cavaleers,
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Come shoin wi' her nane sell then,
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For to root out the Dutch Recruit,
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And ding them down to Hell then;
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We'll meet at anes for our King James,
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And think it no great Pain then,
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To set him on his Royal Throne;
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Let each Man have his ain then.
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The ANSWER.
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YOU Highlandmen, with Tongue and Pen,
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What need you so to boast then,
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At Killy Crankie what you wan,
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It was unto your Loss then:
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My Lord Dundee the best of ye,
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Into the Field did fa' then,
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And great Pitour fell in a Fur,
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And could not win awa' then.
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And at Dunkeld, right fast you fell
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Tho' ye thought well to win then;
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But fy for Shame, I scarce can tell,
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How to the Hills ye ran then.
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O Furichnish but stay awhile,
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And speak a Word or twa then,
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Wi' caket Trews, and heavy News.
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Unto the Hills ye draw then.
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At Cromdelhill, you got your fill;
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For you we did not spare then,
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To pay your Benes 'till oer the Stenes,
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You ran wi' Buttocks bare then:
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And many Crack behind your Back,
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Sensyne we never saw then,
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Your Fools Face hath little Grace,
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Can do no Good at all then.
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The Buchan Lairds like unto Cards,
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Planted on Athole Hills then,
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Together came to make a Sham,
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Thinking to get their Will then;
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At Aberdeen they did come in,
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But there they durst not stay then,
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Nor make Attempt for fear that Hemp,
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At length their Necks should draw them.
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From Aberdeen in haste they hy,
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Unto Dunnotea came then,
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Where Earl of Marshal then did ly,
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A Man of worthy Fame then;
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And General Buchan did command,
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His House that they might have there,
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But he so bravely did defend,
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That they prov'd but like Knaves there.
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They hois'd up Sail and turn'd their Tail,
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And Straight towards the North then,
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And for to join, to get some Coin,
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Fra the Earl of Seaforth then,
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But he was wiser than they thought,
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And never thinks to part sea;
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With that he got, by his good Lot,
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Like Fools from thence their Way gae.
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There's Frendrets Lord and Oliphant,
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And Douglass them all three there,
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We have bereaved them of their Holds,
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No more now can they do there.
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And Davie Graham thinks meikle Shame,
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With the Earl of Dunkill then,
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And Turn-coat Pet looks now so blate,
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Himself he's like to hang then.
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Dumfermline drives his Spurgald Horse,
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And Buchan whips with Wand then,
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Cannon like a weary Cross,
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Follows up the Band then.
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My Lord Seaforth fles fra the North,
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Unto the Court to dwell there;
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He's made a' swear for many a Year,
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He never will rebel mair.
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