Poems and songs By the late Richard Gall. With a memoir of the author |
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SONG, WRITTEN AND SUNG BY THE AUTHOR, WHEN AN EDINBURGH
VOLUNTEER, AT A DINNER OF THE CORPS, IN
CELEBRATION OF ADMIRAL DUNCAN'S VICTORY OVER
THE DUTCH FLEET AT CAMPERDOWN. |
 | Poems and songs |  |
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SONG, WRITTEN AND SUNG BY THE AUTHOR, WHEN AN EDINBURGH VOLUNTEER, AT A DINNER OF THE CORPS, IN CELEBRATION OF ADMIRAL DUNCAN'S VICTORY OVER THE DUTCH FLEET AT CAMPERDOWN.
Dread ye a foe? Dismiss that idle dread;
'Tis death with hostile step these shores to tread.
Safe in the love of Heaven, an ocean flows
Around our realm, a barrier from the foes.
Hom. Od. B. 6.
'Tis death with hostile step these shores to tread.
Safe in the love of Heaven, an ocean flows
Around our realm, a barrier from the foes.
Hom. Od. B. 6.
Nae mair need we sigh whan we reckon,
An' think on the days o' langsyne,
Whan bauld Scottish heroes, sae doughty,
Wi' laurels o' valour did shine;
For Duncan, a true Scottish callan,
Wha lang has been thirsting for fame,
Has yerkit our faes in a tulzie,
An' proved himsel' wordy the name.
An' think on the days o' langsyne,
Whan bauld Scottish heroes, sae doughty,
Wi' laurels o' valour did shine;
For Duncan, a true Scottish callan,
Wha lang has been thirsting for fame,
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An' proved himsel' wordy the name.
The Frenchmen, thae ill-deedy bodies,
Wha never were sound at the bane,
Wi' hearts maist as black as a kettle,
An' o' their auld tricks unco fain;
Wi' fleechin, an' Hornie's assistance,
Gart meikle-breek'd Dutchmen agree
Their ships a' wi' haste to untether,
An' meet Adie Duncan at sea.
Wha never were sound at the bane,
Wi' hearts maist as black as a kettle,
An' o' their auld tricks unco fain;
Wi' fleechin, an' Hornie's assistance,
Gart meikle-breek'd Dutchmen agree
Their ships a' wi' haste to untether,
An' meet Adie Duncan at sea.
But fouk little ken, whan they travel,
What luckless mishaps may befa',
Or the Dutchmen wad ne'er been sae doited
As ventured frae Holland ava:
For Duncan, sae wily an' cunning,
Lay watching the time to begin;
Then belly-flaught banged in upo' them,
An' gied them a weel-licked skin.
What luckless mishaps may befa',
Or the Dutchmen wad ne'er been sae doited
As ventured frae Holland ava:
For Duncan, sae wily an' cunning,
Lay watching the time to begin;
Then belly-flaught banged in upo' them,
An' gied them a weel-licked skin.
134
Wi' legs snapped aff, broken noddles,
(My fegs! 'twas a sad ravelled pirn!)
The Dutchmen endeavoured to rin for't,
But fand themsels snib'd in a girn.
They looked like gryces new-sticked,
Whan siccan mishanters they saw,
An' heartily d---d the French vermin,
Wha o' them had made a cat's paw.
(My fegs! 'twas a sad ravelled pirn!)
The Dutchmen endeavoured to rin for't,
But fand themsels snib'd in a girn.
They looked like gryces new-sticked,
Whan siccan mishanters they saw,
An' heartily d---d the French vermin,
Wha o' them had made a cat's paw.
Yet Frenchmen (wha'll ne'er be tongue-tacked,)
Blaw aff at an unco degree;
Again 'bout Invasion they blether,
An' swear they'll be here in a wee.
But e'en let them yammer an' ettle,
Britannia laughs at their scheme;
She has Tars, wha are Kings o' the Ocean,
An' Volunteer birkies at hame.
Blaw aff at an unco degree;
Again 'bout Invasion they blether,
An' swear they'll be here in a wee.
But e'en let them yammer an' ettle,
Britannia laughs at their scheme;
She has Tars, wha are Kings o' the Ocean,
An' Volunteer birkies at hame.
Whan Scotia's braid shield, o'er her mountains,
Sae terribly sounds the alarm,
Her sons, looking forward to glory,
Rush bravely to guard her frae harm.
'Mang the lave o' her trusty defenders,
Whase praise weel deserves to be sung,
There's Campbells, a race lang respected,
Frae Dermid, great warrior, sprung.
Sae terribly sounds the alarm,
135
Rush bravely to guard her frae harm.
'Mang the lave o' her trusty defenders,
Whase praise weel deserves to be sung,
There's Campbells, a race lang respected,
Frae Dermid, great warrior, sprung.
Eke Ferguson, Dewar, an' Fraser;
Buchanan, wha seeks Scotia's weal;
Macdougal (the famed Lord o' Lorn,)
Macnab, an' Mackenzie, sae leal;
Wi' Gordon, Macleod, an' Macdonald,
Wha'll stand, but will ne'er turn awa;
An' bauldly to lead us to honour,
See Murray, the chief o' us a'.
Buchanan, wha seeks Scotia's weal;
Macdougal (the famed Lord o' Lorn,)
Macnab, an' Mackenzie, sae leal;
Wi' Gordon, Macleod, an' Macdonald,
Wha'll stand, but will ne'er turn awa;
An' bauldly to lead us to honour,
See Murray, the chief o' us a'.
Yes, we hae our bauld Highland Laddies,
Wi' bannets set briskly ajee,
Whase love for their Country's sae sicker,
Afore they forsake her they'll die.
Look round here! In ilka Scotch bosom
A flame for auld Scotia does burn;
A flame which nae dastardly traitor,
Nor dangers, nor death, can o'erturn.
Wi' bannets set briskly ajee,
Whase love for their Country's sae sicker,
Afore they forsake her they'll die.
136
A flame for auld Scotia does burn;
A flame which nae dastardly traitor,
Nor dangers, nor death, can o'erturn.
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