« iepriekšējāTurpināt »
When Guilford good our pilot stood,
And did our hellim thraw, man,
Within America, man:
And in the sea did jaw, nian;
Than quite refuse our law, man.
Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes,
I wat he wasna slaw, man;
And Carleton did ca', man:
Montgomery-like did fa', man,
Amang his en’mies a', man.
Poor Tammy Gage, within a cage
Was kept at Boston ha', man;
For Philadelphia, man:
Guid christian blood to draw, man; But at New-York, wi' knife an' fork,
Sir-loin he backed sma', man.
Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip,
Till Fraser brave did fa', man;
In Saratoga shaw, man.
An' did the buckskins claw, man;
He hung it to the wa', man.
Then Montague, an' Guilford too,
Began to fear a fa', man;
The German chief to thraw, man :
had at a', man;
An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man.
Then Rockingham took up the game;
Till death did on him ca', man ;
Conform to gospel law, man;
They did his measures thraw, man;
An' bore him to the wa', man.
Then clubs and hearts were Charlie's cartes,
He swept the stakes awa’, man,
Led him a sair faux pas, man:
On Chatham's boy did ca', man ;
• Up, Willie, waur them a', man!
Behind the throne then Grenville's gone,
A secret word or twa, man;
Be-north the Roman wa', man :
(Inspired bardies saw, man) Wi’ kindling eyes cry'd, “ Willie, rise !
Would I hae fear'd them a', man?'
But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.
Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man, Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise
Behind him in a raw, man; An' Caledon threw by the drone,
An' did her whittle'draw, man; An' swoor fu' rude, thro’ dirt and blood,
To make it guid in law, man.
ON NITH SIDE.
Thou whom chance may hither lead,
Life is but a day at most,
As youth and love, with sprightly dance,
As thy day grows warm and high, Life's meridian flaming nigh, Dost thou spurn the humble vale? Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale ? Check thy climbing step, elate, Evils lurk in felon wait: Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold, Soar around each cliffy hold, While cheerful peace, with linnet song, Chants the lowly dells among.
As the shades of ev'ning close, Beck’ning thee to long repose;
As life itself becomes disease,
many talents gild thy span?
Thus resign'd and quiet, creep