The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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THE CAMERONIAN
REGIMENT |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
THE CAMERONIAN REGIMENT
Sound-hearted and true,
All men of good-will,
Healthy and hearty,
And staunch to our party,
Douglasdale sends us to tell you that still
It can find the right men when there's right work to do.
All men of good-will,
Healthy and hearty,
And staunch to our party,
Douglasdale sends us to tell you that still
It can find the right men when there's right work to do.
Our Colonel's a Lord
Of the old Douglas name:
But next him is Cleland,
And there is not a gallanter,
Gone off now with Claver'se, will play the great game
Better than he will, by word and by Sword.
Of the old Douglas name:
But next him is Cleland,
And there is not a gallanter,
Gone off now with Claver'se, will play the great game
Better than he will, by word and by Sword.
He was but a lad
When he fought at Drumclog,
At Bothwell a bullet,
Well aimed for Rathillet,
Glanced off, and hit Cleland who stood by the Bog,
Cheering the men when the business looked bad.
When he fought at Drumclog,
At Bothwell a bullet,
Well aimed for Rathillet,
Glanced off, and hit Cleland who stood by the Bog,
Cheering the men when the business looked bad.
Had all been as stout
As he was that day,
As fearless and faithful
Amid all the deathful
Rushes and shocks of the battle array,
There had not been a wail at the end, but a shout.
As he was that day,
As fearless and faithful
Amid all the deathful
Rushes and shocks of the battle array,
There had not been a wail at the end, but a shout.
Well, the verse he will write
Is a profitless task;
Yet it soothes his hot spirit,
And so we can bear it;
But give him a sword in his hand, and you'd ask
No gallant soldier to order the fight.
Is a profitless task;
Yet it soothes his hot spirit,
And so we can bear it;
But give him a sword in his hand, and you'd ask
No gallant soldier to order the fight.
He knows us each man,
And we know and trust him,
And will show him our mettle
In the fierce tug of battle,
For it nerves every arm, when the dust-cloud is dim,
Just to watch his good sword flashing still on the van.
And we know and trust him,
And will show him our mettle
In the fierce tug of battle,
For it nerves every arm, when the dust-cloud is dim,
Just to watch his good sword flashing still on the van.
We're all Cameron's men,
Pledged to Covenant work,
And we'll not do it slackly,
But strict and exactly,
As Cromwell's lads did it at Naseby and York,—
They were Sectaries, but they did godly work then.
Pledged to Covenant work,
And we'll not do it slackly,
But strict and exactly,
As Cromwell's lads did it at Naseby and York,—
They were Sectaries, but they did godly work then.
All our knapsacks contain
The good Book of God's word,
And every blue bonnet,
With the top-knot upon it,
Holds a head that can think and resolve for the Lord,
And the born rights of Freemen will stoutly maintain.
The good Book of God's word,
And every blue bonnet,
With the top-knot upon it,
Holds a head that can think and resolve for the Lord,
And the born rights of Freemen will stoutly maintain.
For the Kirk and its Cause
We are banded to fight,
Every man of us zealots
Against Popes and Prelates,
Erastians, Arminians, and those birds of night,
The trafficking mass-priests who scorn all the laws.
We are banded to fight,
Every man of us zealots
Against Popes and Prelates,
608
The trafficking mass-priests who scorn all the laws.
We shall not fight the worse
That we also can pray,
And are not, like the troopers,
Roused from deep, drunken stupors,
With pistol and sabre to smite, and to slay,
And to trample the saints 'neath the hoof of the horse.
That we also can pray,
And are not, like the troopers,
Roused from deep, drunken stupors,
With pistol and sabre to smite, and to slay,
And to trample the saints 'neath the hoof of the horse.
“For Christ's Cause and Crown,”
That's our watch ward in fight,
And we mean to deliver
The nation for ever
From the false perjured king, and his surplices white,
His mass-books, and priests whom we wholly disown.
That's our watch ward in fight,
And we mean to deliver
The nation for ever
From the false perjured king, and his surplices white,
His mass-books, and priests whom we wholly disown.
Let the Highland Host come,
They'll be here by and by,
For they may not long tarry
By Tummel and Garry.
Lads, close up your ranks, see your powder is dry,
And blow up the trumpet, and beat the big drum.
They'll be here by and by,
For they may not long tarry
By Tummel and Garry.
Lads, close up your ranks, see your powder is dry,
And blow up the trumpet, and beat the big drum.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |