The Battle of Sherramuir By Robert Burns. O cam ye here the fight to shun, Or herd the sheep wi' me, man? Or were ye at the Sherramuir, 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. 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 broadswords clash'd, And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd, Till fey men died awa', man. But had ye seen the philabegs 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'erpowered the targe, And thousands hastened to the charge, Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath Drew blades o' death, till out o' breath They fled like frighted dows, man! O, how diel! Tam can that be true? The chase gaed frae the north, man! I saw mysel, they did persue 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! My sister Kate cam up the gate Wi' croudie 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. 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 frighted bands, man!
Music; traditional. Content copyright © 2000 held by the author; Ian Hall.
