CONTEMPORARY POLITICS

BALLAD ON THE AMERICAN WAR
Tune: Killiecrankie

When Guilford good our pilot stood,

An did our hellim, thraw, man;

Ae night, at tea, began a plea,

Within America, man:

Then up they gat the maskin-pat,

And in the sea did jaw, man;

An did nae less, in full Congress,

Than quite refuse our law, man.

Then thro the lakes Montgomery takes,

I wat he was na slaw, man;

Down Lowrie’s Burn he took a turn,

And Carleton did ca’, man:

But yet, whatreck, he, at Quebec,

Montgomery-like did fa’, man,

Wi sword in hand, before his band,

Amang his en’mies a’, man.

Poor Tammy Gage within a cage

Was kept at Boston-ha’, man;

Till Willie Howe took o’er the knowe

For Philadelphia, man;

Wi sword an gun he thought a sin

Guid Christian bluid to draw, man;

But at New-York, wi knife an fork,

Sir Loin he hacked sma’, man.

Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an whip,

Till Fraser brave did fa’, man;

Then lost his way, ae misty day,

In Saratoga shaw, man.

Cornwallis fought as langs he dought,

An did the buckskins claw, man:

But Clinton’s glaive frae rust to save,

He hung it to the wa’, man.

Then Montague, an Guilford too,

Began to fear a fa’, man:

And Sackville doure, wha stood the stoure,

The German chief to thraw, man:

For Paddy Burke, like onie Turk,

Nae mercy had at a’, man;

An Charlie Fox threw by the box,

An lows’d his tinkler jaw, man.

Then Rockingham took up the game,

Till death did on him ca’, man;

When Shelburne meek held up his cheek,

Conform to gospel law, man:

Saint Stephen’s boys, wi jarring noise,

They did his measures thraw, man;

For North an Fox united stocks,

An bore him to the wa’, man.

Then clubs an hearts were Charlie’s cartes,

He swept the stakes awa, man,

Till the diamond’s ace, of Indian race,

Led him a sair faux pas, man:

The Saxon lads, wi loud placads

On Chatham’s boy did ca’, man:

An Scotland drew her pipe an blew,

‘Up, Willie, waur them a’, man!’

Behind the throne then Granville’s gone,

A secret word or twa, man;

While slee Dundas arous’d the class

Be-north the Roman wa’, man:

An Chatham’s wraith, in heav’nly graith,

(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, an 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 an bluid,

To mak it guid in law, man.

A DREAM

Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason; But surely Dreams were ne’er indicted Treason.

On reading in the public papers, the Laureate’s Ode,

with the other parade of June 4, 1786, the Author was

no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself

transported to the Birth-day Levee; and, in his