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 My sister Kate cam up the gate

Wi‘ crowdie unto me, man;

She swore she saw some rebels run

Frae Perth unto Dundee, man:

Their left-hand general had nae skill,

The Angus lads had nae gude will

That day their neebors‘ blood to spill;

For fear, by foes, that they should lose

Their cogs o' brose; all crying woes,

And so it goes, you see, man.

Theyve lost some gallant gentlemen

Amang the Highland clans, man:

I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,

Or fallen in Whiggish hands, man:

Now wad ye sing this double fight,

Some fell for wrang and some for right,

But monie bade the world gude night;

Then ye may tell, how pell and mell,

By red claymores, and muskets knell,

Wi' dying yell, the tories fell,

And whigs to hell did flee, man.

