When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie;
An' unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my Hoggie.

WHERE HAE YE BEEN.

TUNE- Killiecrankie.'

WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Where hae ye been sae brankie, O?
O, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O;
An' ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been so cantie, O;
An' ye had seen what I had seen,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.

I fought at land, I fought at sea;

At hame I fought my auntie, O; But I met the Devil an' Dundee,

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,

An' Clavers got a clankie, O;
Or I had fed an Athole gled,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER. TUNE-Cock up your beaver. WHEN first my brave Johnnie lad Came to this town, He had a blue bonnet

That wanted the crown; But now he has gotten

A hat and a feather,Hey, brave Johnnie lad, Cock up your beaver! Cock up your beaver,

And cock it fu' sprush, We'll over the border

And gie them a brush; There's somebody there

We'll teach better behaviour

Hey, brave Johnnie lad,

Cock up your beaver !

THE HERON BALLADS.

FIRST BALLAD.

WHOM Will you send to London town,
To Parliament and a' that?
Or wha in a' the country round
The best deserves to fa' that?

For a' that, an' a' that,
Thro' Galloway and a' that!
Where is the laird or belted
knight

That best deserves to fa' that?

Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett,
And wha is't never saw that?
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree meets
And has a doubt of a' that?

For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
The independent patriot,
The honest man, an' a' that.

Tho' wit and worth in either sex,

St. Mary's Isle can shaw that; Wi' dukes an' lords let Selkirk mix, And weel does Selkirk fa' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
The independent commoner
Shall be the man for a' that.

But why should we to nobles jouk,
And is't against the law that?
For why, a lord may be a gouk,
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A lord may be a lousy loun,
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.

A beardless boy comes o'er the hills,
Wi' uncle's purse an' a' that;
But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels,
A man we ken, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
For we're not to be bought an'
sold

Like naigs, an' nowt, an' a' that.

Then let us drink the Stewartry,
Kerroughtree's laird, an' a' that,
Our representative to be,

For weel he's worthy a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A House of Commons such as
he,

They would be blest that saw
that.

THE ELECTION.

SECOND BALLAD.

Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,

For there will be bickerin' there; For Murray's light-horse are to muster, And O, how the heroes will swear! An' there will be Murray commander, And Gordon the battle to win; Like brothers they'll stand by each other,

Sae knit in alliance an' kin.
An' there will be black-lippit Johnnie,
The tongue o' the trump to them a';
An' he get na hell for his haddin'

The Deil gets na justice ava';
An' there will be Kempleton's birkie,
A boy no sae black at the bane,
But, as for his fine nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.

An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff,
Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped,
She's gotten the heart of a Bushby,

But, Lord, what's become o' the head? An' there will be Cardoness, Esquire, Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes; A wight that will weather damnation, For the Devil the prey will despise. An' there will be Douglasses doughty, New christ'ning towns far and near! Abjuring their democrat doings,

By kissing the o' a peer; An' there will be Kenmure sae gen'rous Whose honour is proof to the storm, To save them from stark reprobation

He lent them his name to the firm.

But we winna mention Redcastle,
The body e'en let him escape!
He'd venture the gallows for siller,

An' 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
An' where is our King's lord lieutenant,
Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return?
The billie is gettin' his questions,
To say in St. Stephen's the morn.

An' there will be lads o' the gospel,

Muirhead wha's as good as he's true; An' there will be Buittle's apostle,

Wha's more o' the black than the blue;

An' there will be folk from St. Mary's,
A house o' great merit and note,
The Deil ane but honours them highly,-
The Deil ane will gie them his vote!

An' there will be wealthy young Richard, Dame Fortune should hing by the neck;

For prodigal, thriftless bestowing—
His merit had won him respect:
An' there will be rich brother nabobs,
Though nabobs, yet men of the first;
An' there will be Collieston's whiskers,
An' Quintin, o' lads not the worst.

An' there will be stamp-office Johnnie,
Tak tent how ye purchase a dram;
An' there will be gay Cassencarrie,

An' there will be gleg Colonel Tam; An' there will be trusty Kerroughtree, Whose honour was ever his law, If the virtues were pack'd in a parcel, His worth might be sample for a'.

An' can we forget the auld major,

Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys; Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other, Him only 'tis justice to praise. An' there will be maiden Kilkerran,

And also Barskimming's gude knight; An' there will be roarin' Birtwhistle, Wha, luckily, roars in the right.

An' there, frae the Niddisdale's borders, Will mingle the Maxwells in droves Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an' Walie,

That griens for the fishes an' loaves; An' there will be Logan MacDowall, Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there, An' also the wild Scot o' Galloway, Sodgerin', gunpowder Blair.

Then hey the chaste interest o' Broughton,

An' hey for the blessings 'twill bring! It may send Balmaghie to the Commons, In Sodom 'twould make him a King; An' hey for the sanctified Murray,

Our land who wi' chapels has stor❜d; He founder'd his horse among harlots, But gied the auld naig to the Lord.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.

THIRD BALLAD.

WHA will buy my troggin,
Fine election ware;
Broken trade o' Broughton,
A' in high repair.

Buy braw troggin,

Frae the banks o' Dee;
Wha wants troggin

Let him come to me.

There's a noble Earl's
Fame and high renown,
For an auld sang-

It's thought the gudes were stown.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's the worth o' Broughton
In a needle's ee;
Here's a reputation
Tint by Balmaghie.

Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's an honest conscience
Might a prince adorn;
Frae the downs o' Tinwald-
So was never worn.

Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's its stuff and lining,
Cardoness' head;
Fine for a sodger

A' the wale o' lead.

Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's a little wadset
Buittles scrap o' truth,
Pawn'd in a gin-shop
Quenching holy drouth.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's armorial bearings
Frae the manse o' Urr;
The crest, an auld crab-apple
Rotten at the core.

Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Satan's picture,
Like a bizzard gled,
Pouncing poor Redcastle
Sprawlin' as a taed.

Buy braw troggin, &c.