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The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
And Criffel sink in Solway,
On British ground to rally.
In wrangling be divided,
And wi’ a rung decide it.
Among ourselves united;
Must British wrongs be righted.
Perhaps a clout may fail in't ;
Shall ever ca' a nail in't.
And who would dare to spoil it,
Shall fuel be to boil it !
The wretch that would a tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-born brother,
May they be damn’d together!
Shall hing as high's the steeple;
We'll ne'er forget the people. This song was written by Burns to the English air of “ Push about the jorum," or "Touch the thing.” The Scotch melody of " The barrin' of our door” was afterwards found for it.
Written by DR. JOHN LEYDEN. The music by R. A. SMITH.
Nor golden apples glimmer from the tree;
Proud of his laws, tenacious of his right,
Then, Jedworth, though thy ancient choirs shall fade,
PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
Written for Mr. Thomson's Collection, on the return of the Highland regiment from Waterloo.
MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale ;
Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order ? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale ;
All the blue bonnets are over the Border.
Many a crest that is famous in story;
Fight for your queen and the old Scottish glory,
Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing ;
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe ; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing ;
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding, war-steeds are bounding;
Stand to your arms and march in good order ; England shall many a day tell of the bloody fray,
When the blue bonnets came over the Border.
This spirited song, by Sir Walter Scott, was founded upon “General Leslie's march to Longmarston Moor,” which appeared in Allan Ramsay's “ Tea-Table Miscellany," where it is marked as ancient, and as one of which Ramsay neither knew the age nor the author. It is of little or no merit, but is inserted here as a curiosity,
and as showing out of what rude materials Scott constructed the modern song, which has since become so celebrated.
GENERAL LESLIE'S MARCH TO LONGMARSTON MOOR.
March, march, why the deil dinna ye march?
Stand to your arms, my lads; fight in good order.
Ştand till’t and fight like men,
True gospel to maintain;
When to the kirk we come,
We'll purge it ilka room
That a' the world may see
There's nane in the right but we
Jenny shall wear the hood,
Jockie the sark of God;
Our pipers braw
OH, WHERE, TELL ME WHERE ?
Mrs. Grant of Laggan; born 1755, died 1838. Air—“The blue-bells of Scotland.”
Or, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone ?
Oh, where, tell me where did your Highland laddie stay?
Oh, what, tell me what does your Highland laddie wear?