|
TO the Lords of Convention twas Claverse who spoke. | |
Ere the Kings 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. | |
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, | 5 |
Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; | |
Come open the West Port and let me gang free, | |
And its 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; | 10 |
But the Provost, douce man, said, Just een let him be, | |
The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow, | |
Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her pow; | 15 |
But the young plants of grace they looked couthie and slee, | |
Thinking luck to thy bonnet, thou Bonny Dundee! | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
With sour-featured Whigs the Grass-market was crammed, | |
As if half the West had set tryst to be hanged; | 20 |
There was spite in each look, there was fear in each ee, | |
As they watched for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears, | |
And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers; | 25 |
But they shrunk to close-heads and the causeway was free, | |
At the toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
He spurred to the foot of the proud Castle rock, | |
And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke; | 30 |
Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or three, | |
For the love of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
The Gordon demands of him which way he goes | |
Whereer shall direct me the shade of Montrose! | 35 |
Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me, | |
Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond Forth, | |
If theres lords in the Lowlands, theres chiefs in the North; | 40 |
There are wild Duniewassals three thousand times three, | |
Will cry hoigh! for the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
Theres brass on the target of barkened bull-hide; | |
Theres steel in the scabbard that dangles beside; | 45 |
The brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free, | |
At the toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks | |
Ere I own an usurper, Ill couch with the fox; | 50 |
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee, | |
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me! | |
Come fill up my cup, etc. | |
|
He waved his proud hand, the trumpets were blown, | |
The kettle-drums clashed and the horsemen rode on, | 55 |
Till on Ravelstons cliffs and on Clermistons lee | |
Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny Dundee. | |
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, | 60 |
For its up with the bonnets of Bonny Dundee! | |
|