Tom and Polly/The battle of Killicrankie

The BATTLE of KILLICRANKIE.

CLAVERS and his Highlandmen,
came down upo' the raw, man,
Who being stout gave many a shout,
the lads began to claw then.

Wi' sword and targe into their hand,
wi' which they were not slaw, man,
Wi' many a fearful heavy sigh,
the lads began to claw then,

O'er bush, o'er bank o'er ditch, o'er stank
she flang amang them a' man,
The butter-box got mony knocks,
their rigging paid for a then,

They get ther paiks wi' sudden straik,
which to their grief they saw man,
Wi' clinkum—clankum o’er their crowns,
the lads began to fa' man.

Her ski t about, her l apt about,
and slan amang them a' man:
The English blades got broken heads,
thei heads were cleav'd in twa then.

The durk and dour made their last hour,
aud prov'd their final fa’ man;
They thought the devil had been there,
that play’d them sic a pa' man.

The Solemn League and Covenant,
came whigging up the hil man;
Thought Highland trews durst not refuse,
for to subscribe their bill then.

In Willie's name they thought nae ane,
dure stop their cou se at a’ man;
But her n'i sel wi’ mony a knock,
cry'd, Furigh figs awa’ many

Sir Evan Du, and his men true,
came linking up the brink man;
The Hogan Dutch they feared such,
they bred a horrid stink then.

⟨The true Maclean, and his fierce men,⟩
came in amang them a' man,
Nare durst withstand their heavy hand,
all fled and ran awa' then.

"Oh on a ri! oh, on a ri!"
why should we lose king Shames, man!
"Oh, rig in di! oh rig in di!"
she shall break a' her banes then.

Wi' "Furichinesh;" and stay a while,
and speak a word or twa man,
She’s gi' a stra k out o'er her neck,
before ye win awa' then.

O fy for shame ye're three for ane,
her nainser's won the day man;
King Shames' red coats shou d be hung up,
because they ran awa' then:

Had bent their brows like Highland trews,
and made as lang a stay man,
They’d sav'd their King, that sacred thing,
and Willie run awa' then.