There's Greenock, there's Dickson, Houston of that

ilkie,

For statesmen, for taxmen, for soldiers--what think ye? Where shall ye see such, or find such a soudy? Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy.

There's honest Mass Thomas, and sweet Geordie Brodie,
Weel ken'd William Veitch and Mass John Goudy,
For preaching, for drinking, for playing at noudy-
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy.

There's Semple for pressing the grace on young lasses; There's Hervey and Williamson, two sleeky asses: They preach well, and eat well, and play well at noudy

Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy.

Bluff Mackey for lying, lean Lawrence for griping ;
Grave Burnet for stories, Dalgleish for his piping;
Old Ainslie the prophet for leading a dancie,
And Borland for cheating the tyrant of Francie.

There's Menie the daughter, and Willie the cheater,
There's Geordie the drinker, and Annie the eater—
Where shall ye see such, or find such a soudy?
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy.

Next come our statesmen-these blessed reformers!
For lying, for drinking, for swearing enormous-
Argyle and brave Morton, and Willie my lordie-
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy.

My curse on the grain of this hale reformation,

The reproach of mankind and disgrace of our nation: Deil hash them, deil smash them, and make them a

soudy;

Knead them like bannocks, and steer them like croudy.

This song was written by Lord Newbottle, in the year 1688, and published by James Hogg in his Jacobite relics. There is some liveliness about it; but, like all lyrics concerning the heroes of the day, it is obscure without illustration; and illustration cannot confer eminence on men not naturally eminent. Of Leven the hero, it is said, that he whipped Lady Mortonhall with his whip; and the indiscretion of the Rev. David Williamson with the daughter of Lady Cherrytrees is recorded by William Meston, in some biting and indecorous lines. The fine genius of Burnet could not save him from the scoff of our noble ballad maker; and the conduct of the Prince and Princess of Orange and the Princess of Denmark is open to the censure or the praise of posterity. They who praise them must wilfully forget their ties of nature with the king they dethroned; and those who censure must suppose that they had no love of religion or country about them. Some of the song seems not so old as the Revolution.

KENMURE'S ON AND AWA, WILLIE.

Kenmure's on and awa, Willie,

Kenmure's on and awa;

And Kenmure's lord is the bravest lord

That ever Galloway saw.
Success to Kenmure's band, Willie,
Success to Kenmure's band;
There's no a heart that fears a Whig
E'er rides by Kenmure's hand.

O, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie,
O, Kenmure's lads are men ;
Their hearts and swords are metal true,
And that their foes shall ken.

They'll live and die wi' fame, Willie,

They'll live and die wi' fame;

And soon wi' sound of victory

May Kenmure's lads come hame.

Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie,

Here's Kenmure's health in wine;

There ne'er was a coward of Kenmure's blood,
Nor yet of Gordon's line.

His lady's cheek grew red, Willie,

Syne white as sifted snaw:

There rides my lord, a Gordon gude,
The flower of Gallowa.

་་་

There's a rose in Kenmure's cap, Willie,

A bright sword in his hand

A hundred Gordons at his side,
And hey for English land!
Here's him that's far awa, Willie,

Here's him that's far awa;

And here's the flower that I love best,
The rose that's like the snaw.

The "Gordon's line" has lately been restored to the honours of which it was deprived by the unfortunate hero of this lyric. The Galloway Gordons, a numerous and opulent race, rejoiced on the occasion, after the manner of Scotland, with feast and dance and song. The story of William Gordon, Viscount Kenmure, is matter of history. He left Galloway with two hundred horsemen well armed; and joining the Earl of Derwentwater, advanced to Preston with the hope of being reinforced by the English Jacobites, a numerous, but an irresolute body. Here the rebel chiefs were attacked by General Carpenter: their sole resource was in their courage; and this seems to have failed some of themthe result need not be told. Kenmure was beheaded on Tower-hill. It is said of the present viscount's mother, a proud Mackenzie, that she refrained from acknowledging in the usual way the presence of his late Majesty on the terrace-walk of Windsor; and walked loftily past, rustling her silks with a becoming dignity. The King found a cure for this: he sent his compliments, and said he honoured those who were stedfast in their principles.

The lady's pride submitted-for when did a monarch pay a compliment in vain?

I have endeavoured to give an accurate copy of this favourite song. It is of Galloway origin, with a few touches by Burns and other hands; and more verses might be added.

KILLICRANKIE.

lad?

Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie-o?
Whare hae ye been sae braw,
Came ye by Killicrankie-o?
ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wadna be sae cantie-o;
An had seen what I hae seen,
ye

An

On the braes of Killicrankie-o.

I faught at land, I faught at sea,
At hame I faught my auntie-o;
But I met the devil and Dundee

On the braes o' Killicrankie-0.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,

And Clavers gat a clankie-o,
Else I had fed an Athol gled,
On the braes o' Killicrankie-o.