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Of cloth and clothes, silver and gold,
He took far more than can be told;
The blackest sight that courtry saw,
Worse than Pate Bailey or John Faw.
All his zeal was mixt with self,
He very greedy was of pelf;
Yet all he took but short time lasted,
The Whigs did say that it was blasted:
For all his offspring that remain,
Have none of his well gotten gain.
When I perceiv'd that it was gone,
I out of pity brought him home;
Now Whigs may sleep in a sound skin,
They'll never get mair skaith of him.
My friends that were of lower note,
In justice should not be forget;
As Allison, who here did dree
A hell on earth, for pleasing me.
Bonshare, more fierce than I can tell,
Who bade some send the Whigs to hell;
And my beloved Kennaway,
Who plagu'd the Hill-men every day.
And Charters, that was so severe;
'Bove twenty journeys in one year,
This varlet willingly did go,
To hasten the fanatics woe.
Strahan, Murray, and Annandale,
Who in my causes had great zeal;
Drummond, Streton, and bloody Reid,
Who shot my fồes till they were dead.
Buchan, Inglis, and Westerhall,
Balfour, and others great and small:
Stenhouse, Maitland, and Ballochmyle,
Colzean, and Sundrum, men of skill:
