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Andrew Lang - The Battle Of Killie-Crankie
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Clavers and his Highlandmen
Came down upo` the raw, man,
Who being stout, gave mony a clout;
The lads began to claw then.
With sword and terge into their hand,
Wi which they were nae slaw, man,
Wi mony a fearful heavy sigh,
The lads began to claw then.

O`er bush, o`er bank, o`er ditch, o`er stark,
She flang amang them a`, man;
The butter-box got many knocks,
Their riggings paid for a` then.
They got their paiks, wi sudden straiks,
Which to their grief they saw, man:
Wi clinkum, clankum o`er their crowns,
The lads began to fa` then.

Hur skipt about, hur leapt about,
And flang amang them a`, man;
The English blades got broken beads,
Their crowns were cleav`d in twa then.
The durk and door made their last hour,
And prov`d their final fa`, man;
They thought the devil had been there,
That play`d them sic a paw then.

The Solemn League and Covenant
Came whigging up the hills, man;
Thought Highland trews durst not refuse
For to subscribe their bills then.
In Willie`s name, they thought nag ane
Durst stop their course at a`, man,
But hur-nane-sell, wi mony a knock,
Cry`d, "Furich--Whigs awa`," man.

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;
Nane durst withstand his heavy hand.
All fled and ran awa` then.

Oh` on a ri, Oh` on a ri,
Why should she lose King Shames, man?
Oh` rig in di, Oh` rig in di,
She shall break a` her banes then;
With furichinish, an` stay a while,
And speak a word or twa, man,
She`s gi` a straike, out o`er the neck,
Before ye win awa` then.

Oh fy for shame, ye`re three for ane,
Hur-nane-sell`s won the day, man;
King Shames` red-coats should be hung up,
Because they ran awa` then.
Had bent their brows, like Highland trows,
And made as lang a stay, man,
They`d sav`d their king, that sacred thing,
And Willie`d ran awa` then.
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