Tullochgorum, The Death of Sally Roy, Roslin Castle, and Was You at the Shirra-Muir/Was You at the Shirra-Muir

SHIRRA-MUIR.

O CAM ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-muir,
And did the battle see, man?
I saw the battle, sair and tough,
And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds,
Of clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.

The red-coat lads, wi black cockades,
To meet them were na slaw, man;
They rush‘d and push‘d, and blude outgush'd,
And monie a bouk did fa, man:
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanced twenty miles:
They hack‘d and hash‘d, while broad-swords clash‘d,
And thro‘ they dash‘d, and hew‘d, and smash‘d,
Till fey men died awa, man.

But had you seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man,
When in the teeth they dar‘d our whigs,
And covenant true blues, man,
In lines extended lang and large,
When bayonets opposed the targe,
And thousands hastened to the charge,
Wi Highland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o‘ death, till, out o‘ breath,
They fied like frighted doos, man.

O how deil Tam can that be true?
The chase gaed frae the north, man:
I saw myself, they did pursue
The horsemen back to Forth, man:
And at Dumblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a‘ their might,
And straught to Stirling wing‘d their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And monie a huntit, poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man.

My sister Kate cam up the gate
Wi‘ crowdie unto me, man;
She swore she saw some rebels run
Frae Perth unto Dundee, man:
Their left-hand general had nae skill,
The Angus lads had nae gude will
That day their neebors‘ blood to spill;
For fear, by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o' brose; all crying woes,
And so it goes, you see, man.

Theyve lost some gallant gentlemen
Amang the Highland clans, man:
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,
Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man:
Now wad ye sing this double fight,
Some fell for wrang and some for right,
But monie bade the world gude night;
Then ye may tell, how pell and mell,
By red claymores, and muskets knell,
Wi' dying yell, the tories fell,
And whigs to hell did flee, man.