Ballads on Mr. Heron's Election - Ballad Second


 * 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!
 * And there will be Murray, Commander,
 * And Gordon, the battle to win;
 * Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
 * Sae knit in alliance and kin.


 * And there will be black-nebbit Johnie,
 * The tongue o' the trump to them a';
 * An he get na Hell for his haddin',
 * The Deil gets na justice ava.


 * And there will be Kempleton's birkie,
 * A boy no sae black at the bane;
 * But as to his fine Nabob fortune,
 * We'll e'en let the subject alane.


 * And there will be Wigton's new Sheriff;
 * Dame Justice fu' brawly has sped,
 * She's gotten the heart of a Bushby,
 * But, Lord! what's become o' the head?
 * And there will be Cardoness, Esquire,
 * Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes;
 * A wight that will weather damnation,
 * The Devil the prey will despise.


 * And there will be Douglasses doughty,
 * New christening towns far and near;
 * Abjuring their democrat doings,
 * By kissin' the-o' a Peer:
 * And there will be folk frae Saint Mary's
 * A house o' great merit and note;
 * The deil ane but honours them highly-
 * The deil ane will gie them his vote!


 * And 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 in the Firm.
 * And there will be lads o' the gospel,
 * Muirhead wha's as gude as he's true;
 * And there will be Buittle's Apostle,
 * Wha's mair o' the black than the blue.


 * And there will be Logan M'Dowall,
 * Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there,
 * And also the Wild Scot o' Galloway,
 * Sogering, gunpowder Blair.
 * 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.


 * But where is the Doggerbank hero,
 * That made "Hogan Mogan" to skulk?
 * Poor Keith's gane to hell to be fuel,
 * The auld rotten wreck of a Hulk.
 * And where is our King's Lord Lieutenant,
 * Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return?
 * The birkie is gettin' his Questions
 * To say in Saint Stephen's the morn.


 * But mark ye! there's trusty Kerroughtree,
 * Whose honor was ever his law;
 * If the Virtues were pack'd in a parcel,
 * His worth might be sample for a';
 * And strang an' respectfu's his backing,
 * The maist o' the lairds wi' him stand;
 * Nae gipsy-like nominal barons,
 * Wha's property's paper-not land.


 * And there, frae the Niddisdale borders,
 * The Maxwells will gather in droves,
 * Teugh Jockie, staunch Geordie, an' Wellwood,
 * That griens for the fishes and loaves;
 * And there will be Heron, the Major,
 * Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys;
 * Our flatt'ry we'll keep for some other,
 * Him, only it's justice to praise.


 * And there will be maiden Kilkerran,
 * And also Barskimming's gude Knight,
 * And there will be roarin Birtwhistle,
 * Yet luckily roars i' the right.
 * And there'll be Stamp Office Johnie,
 * (Tak tent how ye purchase a dram!)
 * And there will be gay Cassencarry,
 * And there'll be gleg Colonel Tam.


 * And there'll be wealthy young Richard,
 * Dame Fortune should hing by the neck,
 * For prodigal, thriftless bestowing-
 * His merit had won him respect.


 * And there will be rich brother nabobs,
 * (Tho' Nabobs, yet men not the worst,)
 * And there will be Collieston's whiskers,
 * And Quintin-a lad o' the first.


 * Then hey! the chaste Interest o' Broughton
 * And hey! for the blessin's 'twill bring;
 * It may send Balmaghie to the Commons,
 * In Sodom 'twould make him a king;
 * And hey! for the sanctified Murray,
 * Our land wha wi' chapels has stor'd;
 * He founder'd his horse among harlots,
 * But gied the auld naig to the Lord.