Classic Poem

Fy let us a' to K[irkcudbright],
For there will be bickerin there;
For M — — 's light horse are to muster,
And O, how the heroes will swear!
And there will be M — — commander,
And G — — the battle to win;
Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance and kin.

And there will be black-nebbit Johnie,
The tongue o' the trump to them a';
An he get na H-ll for his haddin,
The Deil gets nae justice ava.
And there will be K — — 's birkie,
A boy no sae black at the bane;
But as to his fine Nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.

And there will be W — — 's new Sh — — ff,
Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped;
She's gotten the heart of a B — — ,
But Lord! what 's become o' the head?
And there will be C — — , Esquire,
Sae mighty in C — — 's eyes;
A wight that will weather d-mn-tion,
The Devil the prey will despise.

And there will be — — ses doughty,
New-christening towns far and near;
Abjuring their democrat doings
By kissin the a — of a Peer.
And there will be K — — , sae gen'rous,
Whase honour is proof to the storm;
To save them from stark reprobation,
He lent them his name to the Firm.

But we winna mention R — — stle,
The body, e'en let him escape:
He'd venture the gallows for siller,
An 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
And where is our King's L — — L — — t,
Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return?
The billie is gettin his questions,
To say in S — nt St-ph-n's the morn.

And there will be Lads o' the g-sp-l,
M — — , wha 's as gude as he 's true:
And there will be B — — 's Apostle,
Wha 's mair o' the black than the blue:
And there will be Folk frae Saint Mary's,
A house o' great merit and note;
The deil ane but honours them highly,
Tho' deil ane will gie them his vote.

And there will be wealthy young Richard —
Dame Fortune should hing by the neck
For prodigal thriftless bestowing —
His merit had won him respect.
And there will be rich brother Nabobs,
Tho' Nabobs, yet men of the first:
And there will be C-ll-ston's whiskers,
And Quintin, o' lads not the warst.

And there will be Stamp-office Johnie,
Tak tent how ye purchase a dram:
And there will be gay C-ss-ncary,
And there will be gleg Colonel Tam.
And there will be trusty Kirochtree,
Whase honour was ever his law;
If the Virtues were packt in a parcel
His Worth might be sample for a'.

And can we forget the auld Major,
Wha 'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys;
Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other,
Him, only it 's justice to praise.
And there will be maiden K-lk-rran,
And also B-rsk-m-n's gude Knight;
And there will be roaring B-rtwhistle,
Yet, luckily roars in the right.

And there, frae the N-ddisd-le border,
Will mingle the M-xw-lls in droves;
Teugh Jockie, staunch Geordie, and Walie,
That greens for the fishes and loaves.
And there will be L-g-n M — d-w-l,
Sculdudry — and he will be there;
And also the Wild Scot o' Galloway,
Sogering, gunpowder Bl — r.

Then hey the chaste Int'rest o' B — — ,
And hey for the blessins 'twill bring;
It may send B — — to the C — — ns,
In S-d-m 'twould make him a King.
And hey for the sanctified M — — ,
Our land wha wi' Ch-p-ls has stor'd:
He founder'd his horse amang harlots,
But gied the auld naig to the L-rd!