Classic Poem

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke,
"Ere the King's crown shall fall, there are crowns to be broke;
So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me,
Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee.
Chorus:
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle your horses, and call up your men;
Come open the West Port and let me gang free,
And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!'
Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street,
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat;
But the Provost, douce man, said, "Just e'en let him be,
The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee.'
"Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks--
Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox--
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee,
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me!'
He waved his proud hand, and the trumpets were blown,
The kettle-drums clashed, and the horsemen rode on,
Till on Ravelston's cliffs, and on Clermiston's lee,
Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny Dundee.
Chorus:
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can.
Come saddle the horses and call up the men,
Come open your gates, and let me gae free,
For it's up with the bonnets of Bonny Dundee.