Election Ballad 3rd

Johnie Bushby’s lament

'TWAS in the seventeen hunder year
O' Christ, and ninety-five,
That year I was the waest man
Of any man alive.------

On March the three and twentieth morn,
The sun raise clear an' bright,
But Oh, I was a waefu' man
Ere toofa' o' the night.

Earl Galloway lang did rule this land
With equal right and fame;
Fast knit in chaste and haly bands
Wi’ Broughton’s noble name.--------

Earl Galloway's man o' men was I,
And chief o' Broughton's host:
So twa blind beggars, on a string
The faithfu' tyke will trust.-----

But now Earl Galloway's sceptre 's broke,
And Broughton's wi' the slain;
And I my ancient craft may try,
Sen honestie is gane.---

'Twas on the bonie banks o’ Dee,
Beside Kirkcudbright towers,
The Stewart and the Murray there,
Did muster a' their powers.---

Then Murray on the auld grey yad,
Wi' winged spurs, did ride;
That auld grey yad, a' Nidsdale rade,
He lifted by Nid-side.---

An there had na been the Yerl himsel,
O, there had been nae play!
But Garlies was to London gane,
And sae the kye might stray.

And there was Balmaghie, I ween,
I’ th’ front rank he wad shine;
But Balmaghie had better been
Drinkin' Madeira wine.--------

And frae Glenkens cam to our aid
A Chief o' doughty deed:
In case that WORTH should wanted be,
O' Kenmure we had need.-----

And by our banners march'd Muirhead,
And Buittle was na slack,
Whase haly Priest-hoods nane could stain,
For wha could dye the BLACK.--

And there, sae grave, Squire Cardoness
Look'd on till a' was done:
So in the tower o' Cardoness
A houlet sits at noon.--

And there led I the Bushby clan;
My gamesome billie WILL,
And my son Maitland, wise as brave,
My footsteps followed still.----

The DOUGLAS and the HERON's name,
We set nought to their score:
The DOUGLAS and the HERON's name,
Had felt our might before.-----

But DOUGLASSES o' weight had we,
The pair o' lusty lairds,
For building cot-houses sae fam'd,
And christenin' kail-yards.-----

And there Redcastle drew the sword
That ne'er was stain'd wi' gore;
Save on a wanderer, lame and blind,
To drive him frae his door.-----

And last cam creepin' Collieston,
Was mair in fear than wrath:
Ae KNAVE was constant in his mind,
To keep that KNAVE frae scaith.--------