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At length to desperation rais'd,
he lashes with effect;
The whipstring, with a manful smack,
knots round the terrier's neck
Well done, well done, we true he's nane
t' the godless Glasgow gang;
But a player loop from London come,
the dog, the dog he'll hang.
he lashes with effect;
The whipstring, with a manful smack,
knots round the terrier's neck
Well done, well done, we true he's nane
t' the godless Glasgow gang;
But a player loop from London come,
the dog, the dog he'll hang.
And hang'd he was and dragg'd by James
triumphant through the town;
And still the village wives proclaim
the rider l wn's renown.
So may ye see that praise and fame
still wait upon success;
Good luck with some than slight of art,
is neither more nor less.
triumphant through the town;
And still the village wives proclaim
the rider l wn's renown.
So may ye see that praise and fame
still wait upon success;
Good luck with some than slight of art,
is neither more nor less.
Now let us sing, Long live the King,
and may he, like James Ker,
Ride forth, and at his whipstring end
drag Nap the Terrier.
and may he, like James Ker,
Ride forth, and at his whipstring end
drag Nap the Terrier.
FINIS.
Falkirk—T. Johnston, Printer.—1817.
