University of Virginia Library


136

MAIDA,

OR THE BEGINNIN' O'T.

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Tune—A Rock and a Wee Pickle Tow.

At Maida our Scotch lads gied Frenchmen a fleg,
Was na that a guid beginnin' o't!
For numbers maist double they cared na a feg;
That was na an ill beginnin' o't.
Puir Regnier drew up on the side o' a brae,
Wi' a bog an' a wood atween him and the fae;
But for braes, bogs, and woods, Scotchmen cared na a strae,
An' they wist but to see the beginnin' o't.
Up the hill, like a misty cloud after a shower,
Our lads breasted up to the winnin' o't;
Fare the right to the left ilka face leukit doure,
An' wist but to hear the beginnin' o't.
Now the silence was dead, till mak ready! was heard,
Syne click gied ilk lock; level laigh was the word:—
Here and there some French braggers lay flat on the yird;
Was na that a guid beginnin' o't!

137

But a' this was sport to the deeds o' the day,
For what was it but the beginnin' o't,—
Till Stuart cries—charge! then hey for the fae,
And our callans push on to the winnin' o't.
But at the first clash that the bagonets gie,
The Frenchmen they swither, they stoiter, they flee:
In the race, as in fechtin', our lads bear the gree,
O that was a bonny rinnin' o't!