Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/577

Rh The Nith shall run to Corsincon,

And Criffel sink in Solway,

Ere we permit a foreign foe

On British ground to rally.

O let us not, like snarling curs,

In wrangling be divided,

Till slap come in an unco loon,

And wi' a rung decide it.

Be Britain still to Britain true,

Among ourselves united;

For never but by British hands

Must British wrongs be righted.

The kettle o' the kirk and state,

Perhaps a clout may fail in't,

But deil a foreign tinkler loon

Shall ever ca' a nail in't.

Our fathers' blood the kettle bought,

And who would dare to spoil it?

By heaven, the sacrilegious dog

Shall fuel be to boil it!

The wretch that would a tyrant own;

And the wretch, his true-born brother,

Who'd set the mob aboon the throne;

May they be damned together!

Who will not sing, "God save the king!"

Shall hing as high 's the steeple;

But while we sing, "God save the king!"

We'll ne'er forget the people.

[ furnished the tune and words of this song to Johnson's Museum. "The chorus," he says, "is part of an old song, one stanza of which I recollect:

[—From "The Lady of the Lake."]