FY, let us a to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickerin there;
For Murrays light horse are to muster,
And O how the heroes will swear!
And there will be Murray, Commander,
And Gordon, the battle to win;
Like brothers theyll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance and kin.
And there will be black-nebbit Johnie,
The tongue o the trump to them a;
An he get na Hell for his haddin,
The Deil gets na justice ava.
And there will be Kempletons birkie,
A boy no sae black at the bane;
But as to his fine Nabob fortune,
Well een let the subject alane.
And there will be Wigtons new Sheriff;
Dame Justice fu brawly has sped,
Shes gotten the heart of a Bushby,
But, Lord! whats become o the head?
And there will be Cardoness, Esquire,
Sae mighty in Cardoness eyes;
A wight that will weather damnation,
The Devil the prey will despise.
And there will be Douglasses doughty,
New christening towns far and near;
Abjuring their democrat doings,
By kissin the o a Peer:
And there will be folk frae Saint Marys
A house o great merit and note;
The deil ane but honours them highly
The deil ane will gie them his vote!
And there will be Kenmure sae genrous,
Whose honour is proof to the storm,
To save them from stark reprobation,
He lent them his name in the Firm.
And there will be lads o the gospel,
Muirhead whas as gude as hes true;
And there will be Buittles Apostle,
Whas mair o the black than the blue.
And there will be Logan MDowall,
Sculduddry an he will be there,
And also the Wild Scot o Galloway,
Sogering, gunpowder Blair.
But we winna mention Redcastle,
The body, een let him escape!
Hed venture the gallows for siller,
An twere na the cost o the rape.
But where is the Doggerbank hero,
That made Hogan Mogan to skulk?
Poor Keiths gane to hell to be fuel,
The auld rotten wreck of a Hulk.
And where is our Kings Lord Lieutenant,
Sae famd for his gratefu return?
The birkie is gettin his Questions
To say in Saint Stephens the morn.
But mark ye! theres trusty Kerroughtree,
Whose honor was ever his law;
If the Virtues were packd in a parcel,
His worth might be sample for a;
And strang an respectfus his backing,
The maist o the lairds wi him stand;
Nae gipsy-like nominal barons,
Whas propertys papernot land.
And there, frae the Niddisdale borders,
The Maxwells will gather in droves,
Teugh Jockie, staunch Geordie, an Wellwood,
That griens for the fishes and loaves;
And there will be Heron, the Major,
Whall neer be forgot in the Greys;
Our flattry well keep for some other,
HIM, only its justice to praise.
And there will be maiden Kilkerran,
And also Barskimmings gude Knight,
And there will be roarin Birtwhistle,
Yet luckily roars i the right.
And therell be Stamp Office Johnie,
(Tak tent how ye purchase a dram!)
And there will be gay Cassencarry,
And therell be gleg Colonel Tam.
And therell be wealthy young Richard,
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck,
For prodigal, thriftless bestowing
His merit had won him respect.
And there will be rich brother Nabobs,
(Tho Nabobs, yet men not the worst,)
And there will be Colliestons whiskers,
And Quintina lad o the first.
Then hey! the chaste Interest o Broughton
And hey! for the blessins twill bring;
It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
In Sodom twould make him a king;
And hey! for the sanctified Murray,
Our land wha wi chapels has stord;
He founderd his horse among harlots,
But gied the auld naig to the Lord.