6
And Major Boyle that worthy soul,
was brought down to the ground man,
His house being shot it was his lot,
for to get many a wound man:
Lieutenant Smith of Irish birth,
frae whom he call'd for ain man,
Being full of dread lap o’er his head,
and would not be gainsaid man.
He made such haste, sae spurr'd his beast,
’twas little there he saw man;
To Berwick rade, and falsely said,
the Scots are rebels a’ man:
But let that end for well 'tis kend,
his use and wont to lie man;
The league is nought he never fought,
when he had room to flee man.
But gallant Rodger, like a sodger,
stood and bravely fought man;
I'm wae to tell at last he fell,
but mae down wi' him brought man:
At point of death, wi’ his last breath,
(some standing round in ring man)
On’s back lying flat, he waved his bat,
and cried, God save the king man.
