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Burns Robert - The Battle Of Sherramoor

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The Battle of Sherra-moor
(Robert Burns)
`O, cam ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi` me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
Or did the battle see, man?`
`I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum`d at kingdoms three, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
`The red-coat lads wi black cockauds,
To meet them were na slaw, man;
They rush`d and push`d, and bluid outgush`d,
And monie a bouk did fa`, man!
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanc`d for twenty miles;
They hough`d the clans like nine-pin kyles,
They hack`d and hash`d, while braid-swords clashed,
And thro they dash`d, and hew`d and smash`d,
Till fey men died awa, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
`But had ye seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man;
When in the teeth they daur`d our Whigs,
And Covenant trueblues, man!
In lines extended lang and large,
When baig`nets o`erpower`d the targe,
And thousands hasten`d to the charge,
Wi` Highland wrath and frae the sheath
Drew blades o` death, till, out o` breath.
They fled like frightened dows, man!`
La, la, la, la, etc.
`O how Deil, Tam, can that be true ?
The chase gaed frae the north, man!
I saw mysel, they did pursue
The horseman back to Forth, man:
And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi` a` their might,
And straught to Stirling wing`d their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And monie a huntit poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man!`
La, la, la, la, etc.
My sister Kate came up the gate
Wi` crowdie unto me, man:
She swoor she saw some rebels run
To Perth and to Dundee, man!
Their left-hand general had nae skill;
The Angus lads had nae good will
That day their neebors` bluid to spill;
For fear, by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o brose; they scar`d at blows,
And hameward fast did flee, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
`They`ve lost some gallant gentlemen,
Amang the Highland clans, man!
I fear my Lord Panmuir is slain,
Or in his en`mies`hands, man.
Now wad ye sing this double flight,
Some fell for wrang, and some for right,
But monie bade the world guid-night;
Say, pell and mell, wi muskets` knell
How Tories fell, and Whigs to Hell
Flew off in frightened bands, man!
La, la, la, la, etc.
tune: Cameronian Rant (308)
filename[ SHRRAMUR
play.exe SHRRAMUR
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===

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